ISN'T odd how simple jobs weigh down on you so much that you put off doing them for ages and then wonder why?

What is known as the back kitchen at Harcombe housed the washing machine, tumble dryer, deep freeze and a large, slimy Belfast sink, plus a huge quantity of horse equipment, old tins of paint and cat food dishes.

It was festooned with cobwebs which would make Miss Haversham's house in Great Expectations look like an entry in Ideal Home magazine and there was enough mould on the walls to start manufacturing penicillin.

It was so horrid that I could hardly bear to go in there but the need for clean clothes, food and riding kit and the cries of hungry cats meant that I had no option.

Until last weekend. Armed with a dodgy smelling spray which claimed to get rid of mould and mildew - and did - Beccy-next-door and I, clad in old cloths and wearing rubber gloves, set about that back kitchen and in less than two hours it was clean beyond my wildest hopes.

A further two hours' painting (using paint from one of those old tins) had transformed it still further and I spent the evening walking in and out to admire our handiwork.

Now all surplus saddles have been banished to the loft (I hope the mice don't nibble them).

Those in use are on saddle racks and any other spare tack is hanging from hooks on the wall. There's even a shelf for riding hats and boots.

How long it will stay like that is another matter, but it looks so nice and works so well that there's lots of incentive to keep it like that. And talking of incentive, I plan to tackle the cupboard under the stairs this weekend. There's no holding me now.