Autumn; the season of damp and stinky mouldiness

It’s really hot today. So hot, in fact, that I’m resisting the urge to complain. I am not too hot. I just haven’t chosen the right clothing for the conditions. I can never manage that.
But the point that I am coming to is that, soon, when these hot days are but a vague memory, it will be cold, dark, wet and sometimes even bleak.
We will have to wrap up (so, naturally, I will stand in the playground without a coat and freeze). The heating will need to be turned on, if it still works, after a few months off.
Frost may appear, and yes, possibly even the elusive snow.
All of that is normal, and whatever way you feel about winter, it is as it should be.
And there are, of course, benefits.
No bikinis to worry about getting into. Sun cream and all the associated faffing is forgotten. The grass doesn’t need mowing as often, and there are bonfires and Halloween to look forward to.
But there is one thing that is inevitably going to happen in my house that I am not looking forward to. There is no up-side – no hidden benefit. It’s just a bad thing.
Soon, I’ll taste autumn in the air. With all this heat, it hasn’t really happened yet, but it will, and soon.
And then I’ll know it’s coming, The Bad Thing. In fact, it’s there already, just waiting. But it’s dormant at the moment, kept at bay by the magic of summer.
Alas, not for long.
Every corner of my poor old bungalow harbours cultures of some kind. Rot, mould – possibly even fungus. It’s all there, and soon, it will grow like old boots, and make pretty coloured colonies all over the walls.
Last year, it was bad. I regularly took a cloth and some bleachy, boiling water to the many problem areas. I moved children out of bedrooms, and sprayed stuff about to discourage it.
Every winter, it’s worse, and so, this year, I am anticipating an even bigger battle. More bleach, more boiling water, more swearing and scrubbing in the corners. More marvelling at how nature can produce such pretty colours, whilst at the same time, wishing she wouldn’t do it where my kids sleep.
But the Mould Army has a shock coming. What, I wonder, will it do in the winter of 2017, when the very walls themselves will have been anihilated..?
It’s drastic, but it might just work.