Unwashed and somewhat slightly dazed

Here’s the deal. I went to the laundrette. I made soup. I hoovered. I dusted. I mopped. I cleaned bathrooms. I listened to the Manic Street Preachers played very loud.

At the allotted hour I returned to the laundrette to collect all the bed linen. My friend the laundress was po-faced and sullen. I said, ‘Why are you so po-faced and sullen’ (in French), and she said, ‘Because of your washing!’ (in French). I said ‘What about my washing?’ (in French) and she pointed up to the top corner of the laundrette window and said ‘There! Look!’ (in French). I looked (in French).

‘Ooh la la!’ I said (in English). There was a man in overalls up a ladder fiddling around with a pair of pliers and the overhead power cables. ‘No power!’ she said shrugging (in English). ‘Ooh la la!’ I said (in German). ‘Are you soft in the head?’ she asked (in Mongolian).

Well the upshot was there had been a power cut and all the bed linen was sodden, and some of it was quite wet too. I took a few deep breaths and counted to ten (in French). It didn’t help, the washing was still wet. ‘I will return at seven,’ I suggested (in French) with a flourish (in Italian). ‘Do I look like I give a fiddler’s fart?’ she said (in sign language - quite effectively I thought). I left, whistling the theme tune to Rhubarb & Custard in a jaunty manner.

Michael most graciously drove me to Bergerac International Air Shed for the arrival of mum and dad. We met N,K&D in the bar and I numbed myself with alcohol. Guess who was last out of the arrivals hall? Mmmhmm. We got the car (always use Avis, never ever use Hertz – ever) and dad drove us back to town in reverse.

Champagne, roast dinner, Pecharmant, Monbazillac. It’s all a bit of a blur. I do remember Carmen on the stereo. She’s a great DJ, and available for weddings and barmitzvahs I’m told. Lovely hat. Fruity you could say.