the washing machine is dead.................deceased...................passed away.

We survived the storm.

The flood waters took the route intended , down the drain, and Bromley survived unscathed.

laundry service, kerala
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But the washing machine is dead.

I found it making a strange noise, and rang 'Houseproud', my friendly washing machine and appliance repair people.

There ensued something resembling a doctor's telephone consultation with the lady at the other end of the line.

I was asked the make and model of my machine, and how many children I had, thereby divulging whether I was a 'high use' user. 

I was told that if it was a Hotpoint, which it is, then it was inevitably the ball bearings that had gone and that is was therefore a 'terminal condition'. 

In fact, she said, it was almost certainly 'inoperable'.

I had never considered operating on my washing machine. Yes it has endured years of hard labour, and yes, I took the dog blankets to the launderette so that someone else got the benefit of all the black hairs that clogged up the filter. Yes, the fabric conditioner drawer was a bit mouldy and black, but a quick wipe down could hardly be defined as an operation.

But now it is 'deceased'....... 'no more'........ 'the late'....... or even 'passed away'

People do seem to have difficulty with the word 'dead'.

My washing machine is officially dead, and I have had the joy of choosing a new one for the princely sum of around £400.

Because I don't have a suitable river where I can spend time beating my clothes and chatting to my friends, which looks like a much more enjoyable way to get the job done.

And so I had to choose between the popular Samsung 'ecobubble' machine that plays a tune when it has finished its duties and that has an app for your mobile phone that deciphers the control panel without the need to phone your nearest engineer, or a Bosch, with its 2 year guarantee, sleek lines,  extra large drum and the much approved of 'reload facility' for those unfortunate people like me who always find a stray sock on the floor after the door is closed.

Sadly neither do the ironing.

Now that would have been a technological advance to be proud of.

Maybe one day they will, and I will then be the happiest person around.

The new machine arrives on a Sunday. Shock. Horror.

What is the world coming to.

Clean socks will abound, and I shall be able to go on my travels with clean underwear.