I once watched a washing machine from cycle start right through to spin.
It was a Wednesday afternoon and i should have had something better to do.
I got up of course to make a brew, and use the loo.
Then i returned and sat cross legged in front of well i think it was a Hotpoint.
I was there for a while, this was a rented flat in 80’s Nottingham and the washer was not young, but i didn’t want to take for granted not having to go the the laundrette.
The trouble is i had romanticised about going to the laundrette from an early age.
I remember thinking when i was 17 that i might meet a girl who cried on Wednesday afternoons in a laundrette.
In front of what i think was a Hotpoint i remember thinking that i might meet a girl who cried on Wednesday afternoons who would sit with me and watch the washer from the start of the cycle right through to the spin.
Crossed legged on the floor with a hanky and a cup of tea and an ever so slight grin on her tear stained chin.
I’m thinking about it even now x