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Dishes and Newcastle

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Days 107 and 108 produced a revelation about dishes and a talk with The Chronicle of Newcastle-on-Tyne. I was having a soap moment, or a soap day really - a day in which I finally announced at the table that everything tasted like soap. "Have you maybe not been rinsing the dishes?" I asked Dear One. I know he does things, sometimes, with less thoroughness than I might do them.

"I never use dish soap," he said, causing a round of laughter over the Lancashire hotpot, Esther's birthday dinner.

"You never use dish detergent?"

"Nope."

"You wash the dishes without any soap?"

"I use hot water and a cloth. It's one of my little secrets."

This confounded me yet at the same time it did not confound me. It fit in with other aspects of Dear One. "Just to confirm," I said, "for fifteen years, you have never used dish soap?"

"Never."

What can you say to a thing like that? "I guess," I said, "I'm still here."

The other new thing was that I got a call from my hometown newspaper, The Chronicle in Newcastle-on-Tyne, about the Orange Prize shortlist. They asked me for a photo of myself when I lived there as a kid. I sent them a few, including this one of me and Grandma Winter. I don't know how to make it not be sideways.



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On April 19th, 2011 06:12 pm (UTC), matildamagtree.wordpress.com commented:
Ha! Lovely post. (But if no soap, why did everything taste of it??) The plot thickens...
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