Condoms and Clattering

Thursday 8 September 2011 – Surprise, surprise, it’s hot and sunny once more; where this promised rain is I don’t know, even the locals are beginning to complain. Now it might seem a bit remiss to be moaning about hot sunny weather, when it’s occurring in a country I’ve chosen to come and live in, but it’s not like a two week holiday. When you’re on holiday, you sip cocktails by the pool, lie in the sun for a little, swim in the sea etc. Okay I can do all these things here, but if I did I’d never get any work done. And today’s job is my laundry, so with sheets, pillowcases and my white ‘Primark’ trousers, sloshing in the washer, I make my breakfast. (Yes I own a pair of white trousers)

Breakfast dishes washed up and Tears For Fears playing ‘Broken’, I set about looking at which features I shall be pitching today. I opt for one about choosing the right size condom, for Attitude magazine. The more I look into it, more I realise I know very little about what makes and sizes of condoms are out there.

Suddenly I hear a terrible clattering sound coming from the utility room, I rush to find that it’s coming from the washer – first thought is, ‘Oh hell, I’ve broken the washer’. The spin cycle stops, and the sound stops with it. I breathe again, then as the spinning starts again, what sounds like crunching cogs and a mad monkey with a tin can full of peanuts fills the room. I close the door and return to my e-mail account and press send, hoping the editor likes the pitch. But, no. I get it returned saying undeliverable, I check the address, that’s correct, so I try again. No joy, so after a failed third attempt, I send it to the sub editor. The clattering from the washing machine isn’t helping my now fraught nerves.

I send a quick e-mail to Max, he says there’s no problem at the magazine, so can I send it to him, I try and once again nothing happens, I get a failed delivery message. I give up and go, with trepidation to empty the washing machine. I pull the laundry from within, only to discover lots of coins inside the drum. Turns out this numpty, left a pocket full of euro’s in his trouser pocket. Relief.

Sheets hanging in the stillness of a hot midday sun, I return to my laptop, set up the e-mail once more, press send and, hey presto, (Now there’s a saying – wonder where it came from?) the electronic letter is delivered – technology, huh!