On My Hands and Knees
There I am, on my hands and knees, just out of shot. I’m always just out of shot; everyone wants to see the glittery exhibits, no-one wants to know about the mug with the duster who has to clean it all.
School holidays are the worst time of my life, the place is full of kids rampaging around in their muddy shoes with their sticky hands, not giving a damn. The security guards are useless, I keep nagging them not to let the little buggers sit on the throne or press their noses up against the glass cases – they leave fingerprints on everything and it triples my workload.
The museum is fussy too. You can’t use the usual products, the modern stuff that cuts straight through the crap with a good old blast of strong chemicals and gets things sparkling in no time. Well, I used to actually but I got a written warning once and I had to stop. Using these anti-corrosion products, all gentle, natural stuff takes twice as long. Life’s too short for faffing about with beeswax, so sometimes I stick a bit of vodka on the cloth, that really cuts through greasy fingerprints and gives dust the heave-ho and it’s quite natural, isn’t it? Made from potatoes. So I don’t think it can be doing too much damage. A swig for the duster, a swig for me – that’s my normal routine, in the school holidays anyway.