I’m only doing this for mum. I’m not accepting any money. My mum’s health hasn’t been great and what kind of son would I be than to leave her to own devices. I would rather be out there with nature, with the wild, with the spirits. But here I am cleaning this… ridiculously exceedingly unnecessary place.

How many cups does an increasingly immobile and socially awkward person that is my mum need? There’s at least 100 in this cupboard alone. My mum is one of those hard-working women that won’t hire help as she thinks she can do it herself. After my dad passed and left her this mansion, she let all the staff go and took it upon herself to look after the place.

I’m dusting the shelves with ornaments and I wonder what hell-hole and demented mind thought these should be firstly created and secondly displayed. They are surely the figment of nightmares.

Anyway, I can’t complain. Breathe. This is for mum. I can laugh, I can cry but I cannot complain!