Washday Blues

by Judith Greenwood

My washing machine broke down. It wouldn’t spin.

It just went round with all my washing in.

It jumped about the floor on rubber feet,

My laminated floor, all new, all neat.


I tried to hold it steady, tried to pin

Its dancing down, but merely felt it jar

All down my spine. Defeated now, we are

Awaiting John the plumber. “Shan’t be long”,


He shouts into his mobile. “What’s gone wong?”

“It’s washing all the time – it just won’t spin,”

I say. “I’m on my way,” he says. “I’ve just a few

Small jobs to do, not far from where you live.”


What he says next makes me say something blue:

“It’s alright, love – I’ll bring a massive sieve!”

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