One’s washin mashin – see above – currently being held hostage in the Bung of Doom by the chatelaine.
‘Why?’ you chorus Dear Reader, ‘Why indeed,’ One replies through gritted teggies.
‘I am too ill to let anyone collect it,’ was the excuse for continuing to horde One’s possession.
One has been away for a whole month recuperating at the Manor with the A of the F tending to One’s needs in the manner of a person devoted to One…
Doing One’s laundry
serenading One in the evenings (when there’s bog all on the telly)
delivering delicious victuals and vino (we never made the ‘dry January’ after the car crash)
and just generally making One feel as spesh as One obv is!
So, Dear Reader, since One has come back to the Underground Lair and been here for four days, One now has mountains of washing to be done and One’s machine is being held hostage.
Still, One expects it won’t have had much use…
One month – that’ll be four pairs of shreddies and one set of sheets at that gaff!