(no subject)

One of the downsides of living in a garrett in South London is that you have to nip down to a laundrette instead of having the convenience of using your own washing machine. It is, quite frankly, a job I detest, so I wait until I have run out of clothes and then do a run stagger (for the bag is quite heavy by this time) the quarter-mile to the local laundrette.

The only good side of this exercise is that I get to catch up on my reading, or telephone calls since there's blessed little else to grab your imagination at the local wash-and-spin. (Other than the old bloke who stares at the driers in incomprehension for hours on end).

One of the benefits though, is that you then have a choice of freshly laundered bed clothes to put back on the bed. It is, of course, always nice to crawl into a freshly laundered pit having freshly laundered yourself to boot. The problem is that one of my many incompetences is actually getting the quilt back into its cover.

After ten minutes of cursing and struggle I normally end up wearing the quilt cover, and trying to drag several togs worth of quilt in after me. On the worst of days it means that should anyone wander into my room (a blessedly unlikely event at those times) they would encounter what could only be described as a fat floral ghost making free with with the earthier sections of our great language and appearing to watusi around the room whilst battling some invisible infernal horror.

There must be easier ways of making a bed....

(no subject)

One of the downsides of living in a garrett in South London is that you have to nip down to a laundrette instead of having the convenience of using your own washing machine. It is, quite frankly, a job I detest, so I wait until I have run out of clothes and then do a run stagger (for the bag is quite heavy by this time) the quarter-mile to the local laundrette.

The only good side of this exercise is that I get to catch up on my reading, or telephone calls since there's blessed little else to grab your imagination at the local wash-and-spin. (Other than the old bloke who stares at the driers in incomprehension for hours on end).

One of the benefits though, is that you then have a choice of freshly laundered bed clothes to put back on the bed. It is, of course, always nice to crawl into a freshly laundered pit having freshly laundered yourself to boot. The problem is that one of my many incompetences is actually getting the quilt back into its cover.

After ten minutes of cursing and struggle I normally end up wearing the quilt cover, and trying to drag several togs worth of quilt in after me. On the worst of days it means that should anyone wander into my room (a blessedly unlikely event at those times) they would encounter what could only be described as a fat floral ghost making free with with the earthier sections of our great language and appearing to watusi around the room whilst battling some invisible infernal horror.

There must be easier ways of making a bed....