Day Two

The window’s life is a pretty poor one – we look straight through them, open and close without a thought and generally ignore them. And if you’re an American window life is even worse, because I’ve never seen anyone here clean their windows – Illinois, Wisconsin, California, Pennsylvania – is the rain different? Nor have I seen an ad in the local newspapers offering a window cleaning service - so I think it’s safe-ish to assume that the old and noble English profession of being a Window Cleaner does not exist over here. Shame. There’s brass in muck lad.

That is a fresh thought, because until 7am this morning I lived happily in a world where windows demanded nothing of me and me not a great deal of them. We were happy together.

Sunday morning, sunny in West Chester, internet and brochures spread out before me, I began with a spritlyish spring in my step, and quickly came to a halt with the mental equivalent of a hamstring injury caused by NFL language – double-hung, geometric and radius, casement, operating segment head, pocket replacement. Yeah, throw the ball kid and see what happens, except I couldn’t just throw the sodding ball, I had to understand the language to make a half decent decision on what windows we are going to install.

It’s like rudimentary French – everyone knows “Oui, Non, Parlez vous Americano?” – after 7 hours I have rudimentary “Windows”.

So, it’s off to The White House tomorrow to measure the windows, then later to Delaware to talk prices - and then floors, doors and decking. Only will bamboo will do. James.