Sorry about that darling

The quickest of quick Blips today; we've had a kitchen flood, three kids to pick up from three different locations, the lap top has died and I haven't taken a decent picture all day.

This just caught my eye as I rushed around. I like launderettes. If I was a better photographer with more time on my hands I'd like to do a series. Untouched by design, fashion or technology for decades they are timeless time capsules. Comforting, frustrating, essential. Do you dump and run, are you a service wash, or do you sit on those hard slatted benches, feeding your 20ps into the drier and waiting until every last sock and flannel is drier than ash, too hot to touch, but smelling of clean and a good job done?

They remind me of childhood, of living with first boyfriends, of life with really tiny children where the washing would overwhelm me and I'd sneak it down to the laundrette and get a service wash, and feel relieved and back on top of things when it was home, dried, folded and put away. They remind me that an awful lot of people don't have washing machines at home. They remind me of a sketch on Saturday morning kids' TV; 'we don't do duvets'. They remind me of the time my bag of holiday washing was stolen from the back of the car and the thieves strew the contents up and down our street. That was a strange day.

I pass this one every day on my way to work. The cat is always there. I'd never seen the sign on the drier door before though. Sorry about what? Sorry for getting cat hair all over your nice clean washing?

Happy weekends everyone x