Nothing beats an old scrubber

Braving the cobwebs in ‘Grandad’s Shed’ looking for an alum key yesterday I discovered my scrubbing brush which has been missing for weeks.

Armed with a bowl of soapy water, a pair of Marigolds and a rush of adrenaline I tackled all those grimy jobs that involve pulling out washing machines, getting into nooks and crannies, and ending up with soggy knees.

That old brush was so much better than all these wipes and sprays and what-have-you. Plus I worked up a good sweat and performed some great stretches and contortions worthy of a yoga guru.

This might become my new keep-fit routine!