Dear Diary,
I have just had the most extraordinary day! The cost of laundering my towels for the salon has simply rocketed, so I decided to try that new fangled coin operated launderette that’s just opened up in Queensway. What’s a fashionable gal supposed to wear at the launderette? I chose the blue gingham halter neck swing dress for it’s chic practicality. Oh, how I wish I’d opted for swimwear!
A helpful attendant chap showed me how to operate one of the machines as soon as I arrived at the ‘Central Wash’ in Queensway. I soon found myself becoming quite mesmerised staring at the washing turning around. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a handsome young man strip off to his underpants! Sure enough the cocky fellow just stood there as bold as brass, semi naked in a public laundrette! But who am I to complain? Just before he could get his clothes into the washing machine the angry attendant chased him out into the street.
Later, a tall gentleman arrived carrying two large bags of dirty linen. He appeared smart and attractive, introducing himself almost immediately. “Gerard Mordiller, enchanté mademoiselle” he said in the most sensual French accent, brushing his lips tenderly against the back of my hand. I quickly discovered that Gerard is a dashing restauranteur with a similar notion to investigate alternative laundry options for his table linen. Naturally, he invited me for a romantic dinner date at his exclusive ‘haute cuisine’ restaurant in Chelsea.
The attendant coughed loudly, pinning a note to the office door; ‘Out to Lunch’. Shortly after his departure, my washing machine gave a startled jolt and rumbled curiously. Suddenly, a plume of black smoke emerged and soapsuds began spewing out from the little round door! It wasn’t long before the floor was swimming with gallons of frothy foam. Gerard and I panicked, frantically trying to stop the machine by pushing all of the buttons and tugging at the handle, but the door was stuck. Gerard finally managed to force it open, followed by an ocean of rapid cascading water. We were both utterly drenched! Eventually the attendant returned to find us laughing hopelessly, paddling amidst a sea of soapy bubbles. Thankfully, our modesty was rescued with warm blankets whilst we waited for our clothes to tumble dry. The towels are ruined but who cares? I’m on cloud nine and looking forward to a date with Monsieur Gerard! But next time I think I’ll play it safe and order the service wash!
