In a lather over a washer

It was an anti-climax if ever there was one. Thirty-nine years without a washing machine and there I was last Friday night clearing space on the landing for my very own bottom-of-the-range model. It might have been the cheapest machine in the showroom, but to me it was everything - white knight in gleaming steel, a vision of loveliness, a saviour from a life of hand-washing and launderettes.

Yet, as I waited on Saturday morning for my dream machine to be delivered, I felt strangely sentimental about what I would be giving up.

The hours at the sink listening to the afternoon play on Radio 4 as I kneaded a bowl of whites or wrung out a sodden towel. The Sunday mornings at the launderette, where I'd read from a pile of gossipy magazines, chat to fellow washers about the weather and watch strangers' Y-fronts turning and tumbling in mid-air.

I didn't think it possible, but although I've always thought it a chore and crave the free time a machine would give me, I mourned the passing of my washing routine.

And I was doubly sentimental, because the introduction of automation would affect not only that, but the entire look and feel of my home.

No more would it resemble a Chinese laundry, with piles of grubby clothes spilling out of half a dozen wicker baskets placed at strategic positions around the house. I stupidly thought that having one in every room would guarantee my never having to pick anything up off the floor. But with a husband and two children, I should have known better.

In common with most visitors to the house, anyone reading this will probably want to know why I have never owned something that most people consider a necessity.

It's down to the houses we've lived in which have either not had the space or the plumbing, or have been blighted with plumbing in the oddest places - the attic or the toilet (that was only just large enough for the lavatory). In our present house it's on the landing - and we can't afford to adapt the kitchen.

So there I was on Saturday trying to keep the kids amused as I waited... and waited... and waited...

Eventually, I thought I'd check with the electrical store who - I won't say to my surprise, as blunders like this are common-place - had no record of the arrangements. A computer error, they said (computers take the brunt for a lot of things these days) and delivery would be on Friday.

My friends, who have for years watched me at the sink and nagged me to end my washer-free life, will be horrified to learn that although I was annoyed at the inconvenience I was secretly pleased. Another week of laundrettes and Radio 4 - yippee!

I'M full of praise for the innovative women from Rylstone and District WI for their now world-famous charity glamour calendar. It's a brilliant achievement to have raised £330,000 for Leukaemia Research. And it's good to hear they are about to launch a new version of the calendar to be sold in America.

But now movie plans are in the offing, and it's all starting to turn a little bit sour. The women are clashing over who should make the film, with six opting for one company - part of the Disney empire - and five preferring British comic Victoria Wood.

It's sad, but also somewhat inevitable, that when talk is of big movie deals and big bucks, people fall out.

To be honest, I would have thought this lot would have known better. The women didn't expect to raise anything near the amount they have - let alone be offered movie deals. Whoever makes the film they should look upon it as a bonus.

Before this dispute becomes a slanging match, the calendar girls should all sit down with a cuppa and remember why they started down this road in the first place - the cancer charity.

03/04/00

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Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.