Friday, 28 November 2008
It All Comes Out in the Wash
Handy I'm not. It seems my DNA is programmed for faff and frippery. Throw in any bit of math, financial management or DIY and my head spins like Lynda Blair. Cut to: my washing machine hissing and spitting yesterday Exorcist-stylee. Not good; not least because half of my wardrobe lies wet in those steel Bosch jaws. Most of all my banjaxed Midas touch is sure to anger the machine. But I want my clothes back so I call for back up. Colum the handyman arrives and handy he is, forcing Ms Bosch to cough up dust, debris and....my underwire. Mort! Yes, it would appear the only ghost in the machine was that of a well chewed bra. Nice.