New light through old windows

It's a pun. Shorthand for two subjects I want to write about today. The inevitable and the inspirational.

Decorating
This, of course, is the inevitable. At least, it will be for the next few years as we traverse the house, repairing the neglect and damage wrought by the previous occupants and restoring the place to some semblance of habitability. In the case of the old windows, I refer to those in the new lounge, which have not seen a brush, mop, leather, squeegee or even vacuum cleaner in however many years it takes to build up a layer of dust and dead bugs several millimetres deep on the rails. There's paint to scrape off, dirt to wash off and broken catches to screw off, but sadly we can't stretch to a full refurb job on these lovely Edwardian sashes just yet, so they'll have to make do with a spit and polish.

So a spit and polish is exactly what I gave them yesterday. One of the hottest days of the year so far and I'm stood with both hands submerged in a bucket of hot sugar soap, with a scrubbing brush for the larger areas and an old toothbrush to winkle out the grime and grit from the lead work. As I've remarked before I'm not wedded to the idea of returning the house entirely to its original state. In 2008 I believe it should be comfortable, functional and benefit from the one-hundred-years of progress we've made since it was built. Even so I love some of the period detail and I would be sad to lose these windows. They may not be the most detailed or interesting examples of leaded lights you've ever seen, but I like their symmetrical simplicity.

Writing
And this is the inspirational. Eyes are the windows of the soul, poets have told us through the ages, and mine can certainly be classed as old, so I've felt ... well, blessed I suppose is the best word for it and, yes, inspired ... this week, to have some new light come in through these old windows in the shape of some fresh perspectives on my writing.

I have a colleague on TV Scoop who regularly bemoans the lack of feedback on his writing and it's true that blogging of any kind, unless you're one of those fortunate enough to appear on a "top 100" list somewhere, is a shot in the dark. With a few notable (and welcome!) exceptions among family and friends, you never really know who, if anyone, is reading your blatherings and from those, who is really enjoying it.

So here's a heartfelt thank-you to those who have felt moved to comment recently. Since childhood, I've never felt comfortable receiving compliments. I put this down to having it drummed into me by my mother that I would become "big-headed." Something, apparently, almost worse than being two-headed, at least in her mind. Whether I overcompensated or what, I don't know, but I've always been very... British... when it comes to compliments. Oh, no, seriously? You liked it? Well...thank you. It's nothing really.

It's nothing really. Why do I say that? It's my life. It's my heart and soul. It's everything, really. And I've already spent almost 50 years denying it. So, I must learn to accept compliments graciously and admit that, yes, your words of encouragement, enjoyment, and even enchantment with my writing have not only touched me deeply but also given me a new impetus. A work-free week stretches before me and I'll be spending as much of that time writing as I can.