Yesterday I spent most of the day scrubbing away at the original quarry tiles in our 1920's house. This room is going to be our downstairs toilet, but in the house's youth was the larder, where food was kept cool. You can see in the photo where the little hatch was to open a vent and where the two big concrete brackets where that would be holding up a thick marble slab. On the floor there were two dark, practically black marks on it, which have driven me to distraction. Having spent £50 on 'specialist' floor cleaner products, it turns out that bleach, fine sandpaper and Cif do a better job!
Feeling absolutely shattered, I then realised that in days gone by, there would have been maids doing this probably on a weekly basis. I think I had it easy. It wasn't until 3 o'clock that I remembered that the television had been on and considering I couldn't see it from where I was and could only just make out what was going on, I decided I'd better turn it off. Well the walk into the living room would have had people questioning my sobriety. Seems scrubbing away at floors affects your ability to walk in a straight line.
Suffice to say, the stains are now gone. Robert came home and said I had a strong aroma of bleach about me. I suppose there could have been worse things to be smelling of.
Hugs, Sarah x