Tuesday 23 June 2009

Monday 22nd June 2009 – Origami at the Laundromat

Television here has just gone digital.  I can watch about 80 channels: if only I knew what was on.  Either there isn't an electronic guide, or the remote control I've got can't access it.  Channel-hopping doesn't work very well, because at any point in time, at least half the channels are showing adverts.  And even if I'm lucky enough to find a half-interesting program, by the time I've hopped round the rest, I've forgotten which channel it was on, or it's finished. 

I guess that's where specialised channels came from: I've made a note of the news and sports channel numbers, and I hop through them early evening, and the movie channels when it's late. 

But it does make the pub a much more interesting place to be.  I watched a man the other evening making a tiny little pair of boots out of two dollar bills.  And a barmaid who fired an earing across the bar (we couldn't figure out how she did it, but we're all anxious to know if she can do it with her buttons).

Another barmaid explained her sticking plaster by telling us she had cut her finger while making meatballs.  There followed an erudite discussion on the culinary art of the meatball.  She failed to explain how a knife got to be involved, but since the subject involved balls and barmaidly fingers, there was much lewd double-entendre (the principle qualification of a barmaid just has to be tolerance, doesn't it?).

 

But North Bend has developed a unique (at least in my experience) contribution to Western Civilisation: North Bend has a Laundromat with a bar in it.  A full-range bar, with pool tables, sports TV, and curtained darkness.

It's a truly brilliant idea.  "No, no, dear, it's my turn to do the washing.  I insist.  It's no trouble at all.  It will give me an opportunity to discuss my meatball recipe.  And practice some new origami folds on the empty detergent box."

 

When I get back, I'm going to start a chain of laundrettes.  I shall call them the North Bend, in honour of their origins.  As I see it, there is only one problem to solve: it might attract bushwhackers.  You would only have to find someone of similar stature, with roughly similar sartorial taste, and you could steal a week's supply of freshly-laundered clothes.

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