True gripes: magnus mills Through glass, darkly

Where have all the window-cleaners gone?

Years ago, when I lived in a small market town, the window-cleaner would come round on a Saturday morning and announce flatly: "I cleaned your windows on Thursday afternoon."

"Aha," I would reply, "that explains why I can see through them again." I would then hand over the paltry fee, and he would go on his way.

It was a handy little service, based on an unspoken contract of mutual trust. The windows got dirty, someone came along and cleaned them, you paid the bills and that was that. Here in the inner city, things are different. Unless you are the owner of a large-fronted shop in a fashionable street (which I am not), you never see a window-cleaner. Conditions are just not right for the kind of arrangement described above. For a start, anyone setting up a ladder at the side of a house would probably be mistaken for a burglar and end up spending most of the working day proving his professional credentials to police officers.

And if you decide to clean your own windows, but do so without informing your local Neighbourhood Watch committee, you are likely to get squads of coppers swarming over your back wall five minutes after you've started.

It can all get very unpleasant. When they see you waving that shammy-leather around, they are bound to think you are trying to wipe away fingerprints. They will have lots of questions, and the only way to get rid of them is to make everyone a nice cup oftea, by which time, of course, your bucket of hot, soapy water has gone cold.

That's the other side of the problem. Window-cleaning is a skilled business. Not everyone can do it. Get the wrong person at it and the windows will look dirtier than before.

It's all a question of equipment. There was this bloke down the market the other day demonstrating a "unique cleaning product" called the Waterbrick. (It was actually a sponge.) His sales pitch was: "You can solve all your window-cleaning problems with the Waterbrick, ladies and gentlemen ... you need nothing else."

Oh yes? What about a ladder, then? And a bucket, and an outside tap? Bit difficult if you live in a one-bedroom, third-floor flat. The only thing for it is to climb out on to the window-ledges. And, who knows, you might even like window-cleaning. After all, as the man said, for a nosy parker it's an interesting job ....