Uncannily like Sunday

Because we went on trips on both Saturday and Sunday, life caught up with us today and we had to do the chores that we usually reserve for Sunday. Tigger had a day off today so we treated it as a second Sunday.

The day started pleasantly enough with breakfast at the Daisy Cafe, in White Conduit Street off Chapel Market and from there we went to Sainsbury’s nearby. It was a strange sensation because this pattern of activity made it feel like Sunday but the atmosphere was like that of week days. For example, Chapel Market is closed on Monday so the place seemed eerily quiet.

Marchmont mirrored (see above the door)
Marchmont mirrored (see above the door)

The major chore of the day was yet to come: the monthly trip to the launderette. We managed to put it off until about 2pm, then packed everything in the wheelie suitcase and the shopping trolley and set off. The launderette we use is in Marchmont Street. While the washing was going round and round in two machines, we went for coffee on the terrace of the Valtaro Snack Bar where I took the above photo.

So far everything was going well. A bad sign, surely…

Back in the launderette, the larger machine was on the final spin… and then it stopped. We stood and watched it but it just glared back at us. I tried the door, knowing it would still be locked. Whether tugging at the door handle had an effect or whether this was quite irrelevant, the machine started turning again.

“Phew!” we said, believing the problem solved.

But it wasn’t: when the machine stopped and I opened the door, the washing inside was soaking in a pool of water. What now? We could hardly put soaking clothes into the dryers.

Tigger came up with a plan. We tossed the small items like socks and pants into a basket and carried them to a dryer. They would just have to go round and round until dry. We tried to wring out the larger items over the well for soap powder. Even when we had done our best, everything was still heavy with water. So we put it in a smaller machine and paid for another wash, without washing powder, so that at the end of the cycle it would be spun nearly dry.

This meant that our washing session was longer than usual and cost us more money than usual. I suppose we should complain to the company and try to get some of the money back but by the time we had finished the job and got back home we were more inclined to put the whole thing out of our minds.

As I sit here writing, it still feels uncannily like Sunday. Strange, isn’t it? But at least we’ll have a shorter working week as a result.

About SilverTiger

I live in Islington with my partner, "Tigger". I blog about our life and our travels, using my own photos for illustration.
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