November 18, 2011 Moments of Domesticity
I was sat in the taxi office, nosing around as I waited. The waiting area was as much backstage as frontstage; the place where the drivers came for their breaks. There’s a towel sqaushed over a rail, just outside the toilet door, and a reminder to keep on top on the domestic work.

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At a house-building site, the kettle was abandoned, as was the empty bottle of that Scottish staple, Irn Bru. Work is powered by hot and cold sugary drinks.
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Domestic appliances and accoutrements helped my carpenter-friend’s work A hot iron made stikcing things together much easier; cling film over the paint tray stopped it skinning over whilst he took a tea break, and dishclothes wiped up the spills and splashes of paint and varnish.
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In these three male worlds of paid work, there existed small moments of domesticity.






