Which inevitable would that be I hear you ask? (Hint: a dust-bunny scuttles under the sofa and sunbeams bounce off the dog nose-prints which adorn the glass door.....)
The inevitable post-festive tidy-up that's what - because as everyone should know: 'After the Lord Mayor's Parade goes the man with the brush and shovel'. It seems that only short hours ago I was primping and preening, bedecking my halls with boughs of holly, setting the perfect Christmas scene in fact. Now my visitors have all been and gone, we're partied out, tired and weary - and so is the house. I feel it has the interior decor version of a hangover.
Today I am the equivalent of that man with the brush and shovel - after the pomp, pageantry and glitz somebody has to clear up the crud. I wonder if today's slightly less familiar 'well-known phrase' has its origins in Victorian times? A quick Google obligingly came up with 'The Great Horse Manure Crisis of 1894' - and a number of interesting facts; that the average horse produces between 15 and 35lbs per day - in the Times of London in 1894, one writer estimated that in 50 years every street in London would be buried under nine feet of manure. It all has got to go somewhere.
I ponder this as I dust and vac and remember that old chestnut:
A little boy goes up to an old gardener and says 'what do you put on your rhubarb?'Yes. Well.
'Usually well-rotted horse manure' replies the gardener. 'We have custard on ours' says the boy.