when I’m drinking coffee (after George Formby)

It’s my fault.  I’m making coffee and Anniemay says “where do you want to sit?”  I choose the sitting room (the clue’s in the name really).  It’s the wrong choice.

We plonk ourselves on the sofa and look at the sun streaming through the windows.  Dirty windows.  

“They’ve just been cleaned” I say.  

“Not on the inside”.  

She can’t sit still for more than a couple of minutes before she’s up, squirting stuff and polishing like mad.  Luckily her camera is lying on the coffee table, so grab it for a quick blip.

I continue drinking my coffee and try to think - have I missed something - an imminent visit from her mother perhaps?   I can’t work out what the rush is - they’ll still be dirty tomorrow.