The Reluctant Launderer

Once upon a time I had three very small, very energetic children, and a blog which chronicled my ineptness in parenting same. (You can find it here. I reread it occasionally, and cannot actually believe that I am still functioning. An acquaintance once expressed disbelief at the sheer horror of my daily life and accused me of exaggerating; in fact, if anything I dumbed the stories down.) I lived in London, where I did a LOT of laundry, then upped sticks and moved to Singapore, where I did none. At that point the blog became just as much about the strange new world I found myself in – a world with maids and 100% humidity, and 100% crappy hair – as it did about my parenting “skills”. And then it sort of… fell away. (Not the crappy hair however – that remained.)

Now I’m back in the Old Country, permanent relations with the washing machine and the iron have been re-established, and any activities outside of (the very very short) school hours have to be planned and managed and accounted for. (My hair is once more flat(ish) however, and for that small mercy I am thankful.)

I have no time for anything any more other than drudgery and gin, and so of course it is timely for me to dust down the Reluctant Launderer moniker and breath new life into the old blog.