My Trip to the Laundry and The Sweat

Ola, Bonjour, Hello

Well ladies and gents, Summer is hereya!!!!! Well so methinks. I actually was forced to de-layer on Sunday because temperatures went up to a whooping 20 degrees Celsius. Oh babeeee, I can hear a tune coming on – from Will Smith’s Summertime Lyrics: ‘ Summer, Summer Summertime, Time to sit back and unwind.’

I didn’t quite do the laid back thing and unwind over the weekend, but it was good all the same, and after my laundry visit I was a able to take time out and have fun.
So here’s the tale...........My washing machine is now doing a permanent graveyard shift, since three months ago. One day it just refused to work, so I had to put it down. So once a week, I fill up my suitcase which looks about 5ft and drag her up the road, heavy as hell , whilst trying to look like I’m really going someplace other than to the laundry. Of course, on Sunday it was the same as usual. Got my stuff all ready to go, looking fresh and breezy in a pair of light brown cotton trousers, cool chic white top and my corduroy jacket on top. (I even think I put an extra top in my bag – you never know in these parts peeps, you get four seasons in one day).

But I sooo looked in holiday mode, as I heaved my suitcase of dirty washing down the long flight of steps from my flat, feeling as if my air supply had been cut off because the case was so damn heavy and trying not to look Vex (well after all to the onlooker I was going on holiday, and I had to maintain street cred).

So there I was all dolled up with my autumn jacket on and then the sweat started to pour half way up the road. Because I had the suitcase in one hand and a bag with the washing liquid in the other, I was hard pressed to take the jacket off. My hands were tied. As the sweat began to trickle down my forehead and into my eye, a voice cut through my torment “going on holiday?” I flicked my hair and sweat from my face and with as much grace as I could muster smiled rather meekly “no, going to the laundry.” I really should’ve lied but I’m not very good at that. “but you look like you’re struggling” came back the comment.

By this time I was perspiring rather heavily and trying to maintain conversation in between gasps of ‘my lungs are killing me, so please pisher off and go away’ – but I felt obliged to continue with the mundane politeness offering “no, no, it’s ok I’m fine” (whilst my mind was screaming ‘hit the road Jack and don’t you come back no more, no more, no more, no more.)

As I moved off into what seemed a very long and hazy journey which in reality was about 10 minutes from where I lived, but seeming much, much further, I was glad when I finally got to the traffic lights. This was an indication that the laundry was only two minutes away and it also gave me time to catch my breath. Dragging the suitcase across the road was my next challenge as by now, my arms felt as if they had been ripped out of their sockets and the chic look I had originally started out with was looking rather tired and worn and I was wearing on my face ‘this ain’t funny.’ By the time I reached the laundry, I felt some comfort to know that there were other people there who had arrived with what looked like barrels and their clothing, well, not one to gossip, but some of their clothing looked as if it hadn’t seen water since The Garden of Eden came into being, or if you don’t believe in that tale then, since the big bang occurred.

I managed to locate two washing machines as far away from prying eyes as possible and began to empty my dirty laundry into them quickly because to be honest some of my clothing really should be in a container marked rabid. And as always, it’s when you are trying to do things quickly that an item decides to flutter its wicked self out of your grasp to the floor, exposing itself to everyone and more embarrassing, it could never be something like a top or tea towel, it is always something like a knackered bra which looks as if it acts as a leash or a pair of dingy knickers which have seen better days. But by now my dignity had already gone out the window with the sweat.

Yet there are rewards to all these little challenges, methinks. One is the smell of fresh, sometimes, still dingy, grey clothing, but all now nicely washed and dried and folded (sometimes). I only fold the clothes because I see everyone else doing it, otherwise, I’d just dash it all in the suitcase. After all they still need ironing. But like I said, I had to do the street Cred thing and as they say when in Rome, do as the Romans do, or something along those lines.

As far as the temperature and the jacket wearing thing went for the rest of the day – I had to ditch it and an hour later left the house looking even more summery, a lot cooler without the jacket and singing Summer, Summer Summertime, Time to sit back and unwind. Didn’t quite unwind though as I then went for a lovely three hour bike ride and a game of Frisbee in the Park. More sweating and panting but for a more pleasurable reason methinks.

Auntie E
AKA Esther Austin
21st April 2010