A quick glance through the archives of this journal will confirm that I am not afraid of a bit of dirt. When your hobby involves working on steam railway locomotives then getting oil, grease, soot and coal dust on your hands and clothes is something you accept. Earlier this week I found myself in a totally different situation and a level of grease and grime that I found surprising and more than a little worrying.
I am sure there are plenty of other parents out there that have had to clean up the kitchen in a student house. It is a grim task but in the back of your mind there is a bit of re-assurance that having lived in such horrid conditions for many months your offspring and their friends have probably now got quite robust immune systems.
To find myself standing in a commercial catering establishment (that was awaiting the arrival of new tenants) thinking “Yuck” was a bit of a shock. I was also wondering what level of Food Hygiene Rating it previously had (minus five in my opinion). I was not there to comment on the cleanliness of the place or to clean it. It was time to be professional put on the “blinkers” (plus boots, overalls and nitrile gloves) and get my task done.
I went home with the odour of stale chip fat in my nostrils. The clothes I had been wearing went straight into the washing machine and I took a hot shower. It was then time for relaxing cup of tea and get on with the paper work.
I understand that a deep cleaning contractor will be commencing work in those premises in a few days time – rather them than me.
Fifteen Flatout 