I had got up, been for a run, bought bread, gone back and showered, washed and dried my hair, put a load of washing on and hung it out - all that before breakfast. Then came decision time: was Phil going to go with me or not. In the end not, so I set off with plenty of time for a stroll to the bus station.
Then came a series of phone calls. I am no longer a teenager and so my phone was in my bag and needed fishing out. And then, also because I am no longer a teenager, dealing with my phone slows down mu walking. Taking advantage of a green man, I crossed the road. There, in a square that looks out towards the bay, sat an old lady with whom I have a nodding acquaintance, she called me over, wanting to know if we still had the flat in the tower block. She had not seen me for while and wondered. I used to see her walking a very old dog. She always referred to herself and the dog as two little old ladies - dos viejecitas. But she no longer has the dog. She had had to accept that the dog was too old and was suffering and had to have her put down. She was sad but she herself was getting along, still out and about.
So that took a good five minutes off my walking time, possibly more, but you can’t rush old ladies.
And I got to the bus station, as I said, with minutes to spare. I did not fancy waiting half an hour in Vigo’s insalubrious bus station for the next bus. The bus ride to Baiona is very pleasant, once you have got out of greater Vigo. And it proved to be a splendid day for a bus ride along the coast and then some lunch and possibly a bit of playing on the beach with the granddaughter. What more can you ask for?
The fine weather has provoked a rash of washing on my part. Everything dries so nicely in the sunshine. This is what women from the Northwest of England do - the sun shines, you hang out washing. Not just in the Northwest by all accounts. Here is a little gem/piece if nonsense I found in the Guardian last night:
“Name: The Laundry Revolution.
Location: Colyton, Devon.
Appearance: Festive. That sounds nice.
Yes, it has been a lovely revolution so far. Very few casualties. Although one Colyton resident will be feeling very anxious right now. Why is that? Please wiggle from side to side and play this harp while we go back in time to last Wednesday.
Like this?
Perfect.
So, it’s a warm, sunny day in east Devon and Claire Mountjoy has been making the most of the good weather by hanging out her washing to dry. Well, you would. Absolutely. Although, living in a pretty cottage on Dolphin Street, she has very little outside space. That’s the price you pay for living in a picturesque small town a short walk from the Jurassic Coast.
Um, yes.
Anyway, mindful of Colyton’s role in the Monmouth rebellion of 1685, Mountjoy has been hanging her washing in front of the house, rather than at the back.
I suppose there’s not much in the way of traffic fumes on Dolphin Street.
No, indeed. But there are tourists, especially in summer. And, on the day in question, Mountjoy received an anonymous letter, asking her to “please consider using a tumble dryer or hanging the washing indoors”.
Or what? There might be an unfortunate fire? Is the mafia very active in Colyton?
I don’t believe so. The writer just claimed to represent “local businesses and your neighbourhood” and asked her to “help us all keep Colyton a town we can all be proud of”.
Still, I understand why Mountjoy would feel anxious about that.
On the contrary, it’s the letter writer who will be worried now. Because, as soon as they heard about the message, other residents of Colyton began to hang their washing in front of their houses in solidarity.
Viva something or other! Absolutely. Now there are knickers in shop windows, pyjamas strung across the town square and even a bra up a flag pole.
And this would be the Laundry Revolution?
That’s right. “It shows the fabulous community spirit Colyton has,”
Mountjoy told Devon Live. I guess. Don’t you think it’s a beautiful thing? The whole town uniting to ostracise one powerless busybody?
It sounds more like a persecution than a revolution. You must admit it was snooty to write an anonymous note.
Sure. But I bet they’re glad it was anonymous now. They must feel like the target of a witch-hunt! A charmingly eccentric witch-hunt.
Revolutions are always charming. To begin with. Maybe so.”
The complainers should see the blocks of flats near ours in Vigo, the fronts festooned with washing. But then, the far end of Calle Aragón is not really picturesque enought to demand hiding the washing.
We had a lovely day in Baiona, with a splendid lunch!
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