The kitchen floor was reluctant to relinquish my feet this morning so I filled the sink with water and gave the floor a good wash. Now it's still a bit sticky (Persil's not meant for cleaning floors) but it certainly smells nice.
Which reminds me of the ultimate sticky floor, even stickier than the one at The Marquee: the stage at the Twelve Bar (soon to be sticky no more) which was so historically sodden with beer that even my relatively light frame made the stool that I was sitting on (when I was a sit-down player) sink about five centimetres into its mushy black surface.
More swamp than floor, it was an astonishing example of rock'n'roll seediness that was only rivalled by the makeover of the toilets that rendered them more smelly and 'flood-prone' than they had been in the first place.
O Twelve Bar, I love you.
Please don't go!