The mountain of washing that accumulates in my house is gargantuan.    Like the famous Forth Bridge; by the time it is completed, it needs starting again.   We own two washing baskets one for the children’s bathroom and one for ours; magic baskets that fill and overflow without any visible signs of help.  I can empty them; sorting them both into piles, colours dark and light, whites, woollens and special wash items, return the baskets and by the end of the first wash I guarantee one at least will be full to overflowing.

I have a theory; one of course disputed avidly by the rest of the family.   I wash and return the clothes not quite to the inner sanctum of their rooms; where I dare not tread for fear of never coming out alive, but to outside their rooms.    The clothes then dutifully disappear inside the room away from my watchful eye.

Cries of, “I have no socks, boxers, jumpers”, resound around the house regularly, despite the pile that was left ready and waiting outside their rooms.   Finally another clear out of baskets reveals, socks amazingly only one of a pair at a time.   Also boxers, jumpers and all manner of trousers, shorts and shirts miraculously refill the baskets.     Items of clothing which I have just washed and we haven’t actually had the opportunity to wear.

My theory is that outside the bedroom is only one step away from being thrown back in the wash bin.  I have on occasion, actually emptied out still folded and ironed items of clothing.  Naturally none of my boys would dream of such a thing ; so I am in ownership undoubtedly, of a washing imp.  The antithesis of my more hallowed kitchen pixie who appears early in the morning and clears away the debris left from the night before when I am often too tired to contemplate it.

In a household of sports loving boys, along with the washing machine, constant supply of washing powder and conditioner the other can’t do without equipment to keep this never ending task from backing up; is the tumble dryer.   Understandably not everything can go in the tumble dryer but with winter fast approaching and the mud and wet of sports kit more caked on and needing re-wearing on an alarming regularity, there is a large proportion of my washing that needs to be tumbled.

For weeks now my little tumble dryer has been on the blink, literally.    It tumbles with no problem however the heating element has been completely temperamental, only working when the door is firmly shut or it is completely empty of water or when there is a T in the day of the week.    It will tumble and turn the washing for hours without actually doing any good but having used huge chunks of electricity, not to mention swear words under my breath.

This weekend it finally died on me once too often and I was left with no heat at all, no matter how carefully I patted, encouraged or gently co-erced the stupid machine.   Nothing would happen.

The house was beginning to resemble a clothes factory with items of attire adorning each and every radiator in the building.  The banisters make a fabulous bar to throw skirts (mine of course) or trousers over and the shower rail is ideal for hanging pre ironing on.  Added to which the heating has to be running constantly and the children complain of the heat, not required against cold but to get the clothes dry.  Bedding, towels and anything that can be delayed was piling up into an insurmountable peak in the bathroom.

In a fit of desperation I advertised on freecycle just in case anyone had a spare.  Well if you don’t ask you don’t get.  I am very well aware that tumble dryers are the kind of thing you only replace when one is broken.  Just maybe, I conjured the scene in my mind’s eye; someone had one that would limp through the winter until the January sales offered me a never to be repeated, once in a million, incredible saving on just the perfect tumble dryer for me.

For all cynics in this world; there is a god.

I had a phone call last night from a friend of a friend; checking there definitely was not more than one of me in the area.   I could assure her there is only one of me. Apologies for calling you at home but did you place an advert on freecycle for a tumble dryer?

I have a second hand one that works fine but with all my children, and she does have a lot and much younger than mine, my mother has just, for my birthday, bought me a new all singing all dancing super fast model to keep up with my washing.   I was about to offer my old one on freecycle and recognised your name.

What could I say.

Her husband brought it round and fitted it last evening with Sexy Sporty Dad; I sent back a bouquet of flowers which I hope she will enjoy looking at more than the utilitarian gift of the tumble dryer her lovely mother treated her to, which will last many years longer than the flowers.

Four loads of washing later I am delighted to report; it works a dream and there are radiators visible once again in my house, I can pull myself upstairs using the banister and no more balancing on the edge of the bath to take the hangers down before climbing in to shower.     It doesn’t take much to make me happy.

Writing

Apologies for the lack of posts just lately,  I have been a little busy.

Here is a speedy update on the latest novel “Scrum Down” .   I have uploaded just over 22,000 words,  I have another 8000 possibly 9000 written awaiting typing but only 9 days left to do the final 20,000.  Having got most of the story down, am flagging a little with interruptions like work and family life, not to mention catching up on washing.  There are still a few gems of wisdom I hope to be able to find to finish off this week.   No promises.

Tiggy