The prospective next tenant of my flat, an American woman, came round unannounced to view it while I was finishing my breakfast. I showed her round and filled in all the details. She didn't like the way the landing separated the living room from the bathroom and the kitchen, and she didn't like the kitchen, but she didn't intend using it anyway she said because she never cooked. She thought the living room was rather small and the carpet didn't have a very thick pile. She was sure the flat would be cold. I said it was the warmest flat I had ever lived in. She thought the bed looked too soft and might be bad for her back. I said it was the most comfortable bed I had ever slept in. She thought there would be a separate bedroom. I said I was afraid there wasn't. She asked what were the arrangements for cleaning and laundry. I said, "No problem, dust and mop the floors every now and then, clean the windows inside, and take the laundry over to the King's launderette, the cheapest in town; it's a cinch." Her mouth dropped open in genuine shock: "You mean I would be expected to do those things myself? Oh no, I couldn't possibly, I wouldn't know how. I would have to have a bedmaker, a cleaner and a laundress." I said: "You mean you've never done any of those things?" She said: "Why no, I never have while I've been in Cambridge, and before I came here I was in Africa and always had local servants." She must have seen the expression on my face, for she quickly added: "You see, over there they are so inexpensive."
Ian Breakwell, Diary
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