Not My Beautiful Laundrette

Too much reality

There must be a whole sub culture of people who have to take their washing to a launderette to get it dry in winter. The last few dryers in my nearest one in the Cowely Road (2* internet rating) have all finally died. So I had to take the wet washing on the bus to another one down the Abingdon Rd. (1.5* rating) All the driers were cold. While I waited I read the handwritten signs - the does and don't s. Strange and existential experience waiting in an empty

launderette on a cold grey winter afternoon. I got the drier going – it stopped rather too soon though -must be £1 for five minutes -that's double the price of the deceased Cowely road ones. It was set up to eat money. Used up my £4 to barely get my stuff dry – I finished it off at home. I don't have a garden. A summer's windy day is a joy for drying clothes even indoors.

I don't leave wet washing hanging about; I did once. It tumbled dried nicely and freshly but on wearing the clothes – things started multiplying and for a bit I wondered where that horrible smell was coming from. My brother would be horrified – he's always thought of me as a bit scummy; ever since he caught me doing some washing in the bath at home – which seemed to disturb him greatly for some deep Freudian reason and I don't think he has recovered. Once we get a reputation in family life it will stay with us for ever.

I googled “the death of the launderette” to find out more. But I got a gruesome list of launderette related deaths which is worrying. I learnt however that the first self-service coin-operated launderette opened in Bayswater, west London in 1949. obviously the launderette has declined from a peak of 12,500 peak 30 years ago there are now just 3,000 left, with one in five of them – around 600 – in London. I see some beautiful launderettes on line – doubling up as bars and coffee shops with sofas and many social possibilities. They are in foreign lands.

Back in the mid-1980s the launderette became fashionable; what with the Levis commercial and the film My Beautiful Launderette, that captured the London mood of the time; with it's cultural tensions, economic change and sexual possibilities. It has a scene in which a crowd of customers gathers outside, impatient to be let in. This did happen in reality at The Washhouse in Manchester. It's website now makes it clear that it doesn't offer: service washes, duvet cleaning, blanket cleaning dry cleaning, alterations and repairs.. and so on. This is because it is a BAR; but it did oversell the irony when it first opened and people turned up to do their washing which is in fact not possible. It's like a post-modernist concept launderette. It is a launderette of the mind. The website says - “We don't cater for all of your laundry needs and more. Our friendly staff wont take care your washing and it's probably best not to let them near a washing machine. But....drop in and give us a spin.”

At least I have access to a washing machine in the house. But it took me a few months to discover it. Having lugged my clothes to the laundrette on the Cowley road over six months, I discovered the washing machine behind a door on the downstairs landing . I hadn't opened this door because it said “Fire Door Keep Locked” and had a brass plaque on saying “PRIVATE”. It was actually a very small space with a shiny machine in it. Go figure?

When I originally moved in the elderly Serbian landlady with very little English hadn't explained the house facilities. she had only said “No Visitors” Which seemed rather harsh. (I think in retrospect she meant -don't shack up with a girl. Anyway I have been no trouble and my two rooms (with a bath) and a nice view over to Boars Hill have been a pleasant place to live – very quiet. I lived in Barnes one of the most expensive parts of London in a bedsit by the river and then I “took rooms in Oxford.” Oh to live in that world of “taking things.” - “I took tea at the Grand Cafe.” ….. “My valet announced that the water was hot, so I took my morning bath”

I am sorry that I have no Launderette stories to share with you but I can honestly say that nothing memorable has ever happened to me in a launderette. But I did have a freaky accident on my second night in my property after I moved to Oxford. Arriving home in that warm and muggy, early October evening I went to use the toilet. I flicked the latch open on the bathroom window meaning to let some air in. There was no sash cord in the window. The heavy old upper window frame dropped like a guillotine behind the bottom window taking my finger in with it. My finger wash crushed between the two window frames.. not that there was any space for it. I nearly passed out for a moment.

I was trapped. I've just made the great move to Oxford and I'm trapped in a window. Oh why am I picked on by the Universe? I had visions of being stuck like this for ever. I couldn't shout for help since the window faced from the side of the house. I imagined the fire brigade being involved but how could I get help. I had nothing to hand to help prize the frames apart. This is difficult to explain -I did think of doing a photo set up with a carrot as a stand in but I mustn't get carried away.

I stood on the toilet seat and tried pulling upwards but my finger wouldn't budge – I hesitated to put all my weight behind this effort for reasons I'm sure you'll understand. Anyway I took my toilet which was my plan from the beginning -might as well while I'm here, I thought (Yes which number? - I know your thinking; Use your imagination.)

As long as I stayed still the pain wasn't so bad. But I wasn't going anywhere. In the end I managed to put enough pressure on to the window frame and slowly managed to jiggle and ease my finger free. Amazingly it wasn't broken; just crushed. It was only maybe 30 minutes out of my life. I would post a photo of the finger – but sadly I've lost it, (the photo, not the finger.)

For my next drying experience I do look forward to visiting the one in Headington - it has 3.5 stars! I may even report back if anything of interest occurs.

How it should be.