All washed out

Father and I went on an expedition this morning. We walked down to the local electronics store and bought us a washing machine. Yes, it has become as simple as that in this country now, and has been for some time now, as long as you knew where to get whatever it is you wanted. Today, you can trot yourself over to the local corner shop and buy everything from the newest candy in the market to a microwave oven that practically buys the veggies for you before cooking them to the perfect turn that you demand. Be all that as it may be, this is about something else altogether, so don’t distract me.

Our first washing machine, Father says – but I have some difficulty believing him – was a stick and a bar of soap. From there, we graduated rather rapidly to a maid, who hung out the clothes in the designated space behind the house where we lived at the time. I was also in her charge and would be stood on the wall while she did her work. And, I am told – and I really do not believe this at all – she also hung out the baby to dry when she was damp around the edges which, considering the age I was then, was fairly often. And then we went off to live in Germany, bringing back a very efficient washing machine when we returned to this country, so eliminating all need for that bar of soap, stick, maid and pruney hands. And when the television did not work, or there was nothing to watch, we could always gaze fascinatedly at the clothes going round and round in the machine – and our household help often did that, finding the spin of the drum far more riveting than the chores that she was hired to do.

Meanwhile, the washing machine, like us, got older and more rickety. It had occasionally to be taken apart and fiddled with and seemed to like the attention, because after a stint of tinkering, it worked well for a while. Until one day, finally, about nine years ago, it just gave up. We gave it a decent send-off and acquired a new machine, which never had the same cachet. It seemed to gradually develop deep psychological issues that, in the end, could no be resolved. And today, with due ceremony, it will get its final farewell. The new machine is to move into its place in a few hours and, hopefully, will be as dedicated to duty as the others have been.

This could be a good time to consider the phrase ‘rest in peace’.