Jun 3, 2020: Seventy-Five

Since lockdown began we’ve been enjoying a marked decline in the amount of washing we’re having to do. Work stuff, it seems, makes up a ridiculous amount of clothing but that’s the fact that they expect you to wear clean underwear every day and not be wearing a t-shirt with last week’s dinner on it.

I’m joking of course, I’m always wearing a t-shirt with some dinner on it. It’s a family curse.

But one thing we’ve really loved during these dark times is that we’ve managed to do the washing and not had to have a clothes horse up at all. The weather, for most of the lockdown period, has been lovely. We’ve been pegging things out, only bringing them in to prevent them smelling of barbeques and lighter fluid.

Having said all that, an erect clothes horse is nowhere near as annoying as a flattened one, propped up in front of the freezer because that’s a good place to keep it out of the way. Unless you’re in lockdown, in which case the freezer is a place you’ll be going into quite a lot of the time to freeze bread rolls or soup, or defrost bread rolls or soup or finally getting round to using that bag of fruit you got ages ago.

We’ve had to put a clothes horse up today because the weather has gone to shit. Gone are the undoubtedly good drying days of the last – let me just check the header of this blog – seventy-four days. Now there’s rain for however long.

Still at least it held off long enough for us to have finished (more or less) moving all the furniture around in the front room. Because having to juggle wet clothes on a metal frame and a number of strangely named Ikean products would be enough to push anyone over the edge…