How to wash clothes

Dishwasher tablets left; Washing tablets right. It's that simple.
Dishwasher tablets left; Washing tablets right. It’s that simple.

Yesterday’s preoccupations had a longer tail than I realised when I was bashing out last night’s post.

There were scenes of mild panic bordering on hysteria when, soon after Katie Derham and Eleanor Oldroyd introduced the simultaneous broadcast of the first ever Sport Prom on 5 Live and on Radio 3, I discovered that the washing hadn’t come out clean. Oil stains remained fast to the shorts I want to take on holiday to Cornwall and the baggy white t-shirts which hide the sagging waistline still seemed a little grubby. This would have a grave impact on my tightly drawn-up schedule ahead of departure tomorrow.

I must have been imaginging things. I was talking nonsense. I was needing sleep. I probably needed tea. Still, at least I didn’t make a mistake over how to use the words ‘bear’ and ‘bare’. I turned my attentions to the next task and put the mystery over the dirty washing to the back of my mind. I filled up the dishwasher with dirty plates and cups, reached into the under sink cupboard and stuck my hand in the bag of dishwasher tablets. That’s when my short term memory kicked in. I had reached for exactly the same bag of dishwasher tablets yesterday .. when I put the washing machine on.

So, life lesson kids. Put dishwasher tablets in the dishwasher, and washing tablets in the washing machine. That’s all there is to it.

This sudden necessary change to my schedule was why I ended up listening to more of the Sport Prom than I expected to. I’m glad I did too. The end product – a mix of sporting-themed music with on-stage guests ‘interviewed’ by 5 Live presenter Gabby Logan – wasn’t anywhere near as contrived a concert proposition as I feared it might be. The carefully prepared running order uncovered a hitherto overlooked technique in introducing classical music to audiences who might have assumed it wasn’t for them.

Anecdote after anecdote from the sporting guests revealed to what extent music and music-making had been in their lives. But, on the periphery. There was something rather inclusive about that. They weren’t telling us it was OK to like classical music, they were saying that for the majority of us it often doesn’t play that big a part in our lives. And that’s OK too, by the way.

The message seemed very simple: these people are relative celebrities and they are a bit like the majority of us, therefore if they’re here and happy, you could be too. That may sound trite. The point was that listening to the on-stage elements and that from the commentary box I didn’t at any point feel patronised when I assumed I might. Quite the opposite in fact, I felt included.

You’ll Never Walk Alone; We are the Champions. Quite the most amazing arrangements. Rousing performance by the Crouch End Festival Chorus and the Sunday morning audience. Real lump in the throat stuff.

 

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