Tapping my newly manicured pearlescent grey nails on the bar and throwing back my glossy red vixen hair I missed so much, I feel like the old me once more. I sit gracefully sipping the red wine I poured myself and patiently watch the cleaners running around with buckets of solution and cloths, as they wipe down every surface in sight. They have apparently been at it all day and this place stinks of bleach and cleaning products, so much so it's stinging my eyes, but it's a whole lot fresher and I can actually see, now the new lights have been installed overhead.
The bar is gleaming, and every chrome fitting in sight is mirror sparkling. Somehow, with the switchover of bulbs, the room feels cosier, less stale and musty, and the man who came to inspect for mould has treated a couple of areas
