Whiter than white?

My plan was to change one thing per week. A kind of 52-step programme for carbonoholics. And being an addict, I have to admit that I picked a soft challenge for week 1: no tumble dryer. I mean, how hard can that be? Especially now that global warming, whilst wholly undesirable, gives us great summers, right? Well as you know, dear reader, we’ve been living through the landlubbers version of “The Perfect Storm” this week, without the compensatory presence of George Clooney (well not in my life anyway).

Results so far have been mixed – and that’s not just the colours. We’ve certainly used less laundry power overall, but that’s been largely due to that fact that the au pair went back home (by air; her choice, not mine) for a job interview. Not really a lifestyle change. But we did manage to get some washing done – at 30 degrees. After one particularly vexed episode, as we huddled indoors for warmth whilst watching the Quink clouds hover and finally dump their payload, I moved too late and got soaked as I brought in the two re-rinsed washes. I of course had to change, so the washing languished in its Ikea bag whilst I did. But it wasn’t long before I squeezed it into the airing cupboard, there to be forgotten.

I don’t think it would be so bad if the colour run had been limited to the clothes I’d washed that day. It’s really quite cruel that nearly half of the cupboard’s contents were similarly bruised. And of course I was forced to wash the lot with an effective, but no doubt thoroughly unpleasant, potion. I suppose I should have invested in an airer, but is that the real lesson? Or is the moral of the story actually to wear only white clothes?