When I was little Monday was the day for washing, my mum would get out the washing machine. She was posh like Eunice Price next door, they both had Hoovermatic twin tubs with *spin dryers* rather then a finger crunching mangle. Admittedly both machines seemed to spend more time leaking from perished rubber hoses rather then actual washing but it was modern.
The water would be boiled in the washing tub, together with the soap powder (or even new fangled detergent) and I'll always remember the clothes swirling in that steaming water(very like Go'ulds waiting to be implanted now I think of it) to be hooked out with wooden washing tongs bleached white with use.
The clothes would then be slurped out into the said spin drier which would then propel the machine around the kitchen with such violence it would terrify me. IF you were lucky the water would be spat from the curious shepherds crook shaped pipe into the sink. If you were not the machine would have developed another leak and it would be all over the floor.
The whole house would be steamy and smell of boiling soap powder and wet clothes.
I hated Mondays.
Which is why I always do the washing on a Sunday even though, lets face it chucking washing in the machine dirty and dry and getting it out again clean and dry isn't *quite* the same challenge. .
I seemed to spend the rest of the day putting junk (sorry treasures) on eBay to sell, I've been putting it off for ages so this will be a Sunday job for weeks and months.
That's what this post was going to be about, but I seem to have gone off at a tangent..