Out on the Street

Mmmmph. Mrrrgggghhh! Ptuh! There!! I've finally dug myself out from underneath the avalanche of laundry that threatened to take out A Flat on Abbey Road.

Understandably, Hubster and TeenE gave the miniature washer/dryer a wide berth during my eleven-day absence. TeenE had two hampers-full, which I dumped into the empty bathtub, along with my post-trip washing and Hubster's usuals. I have now been back for four days, and am on the twelfth load. There is a colorful assortment of damp clothing draped artistically over the drying racks that grace several rooms. Opening the door to the flat releases an aroma of Fairy Liquid detergent and high humidity.

Having finally run out of the liquid laundry detergent that was purchased our first week here, I had to go out for a replacement on Friday. Who knew there were so many choices? The most puzzling choice of all was to decide whether to buy "biological" detergent, or "non-biological". What could it mean? I scoured the labels for a clue.

The ones marked "biological" stated "Do Not Use on Silk or Wool", which seemed counter-intuitive to me. Silk and Wool are both biological in origin, having been grown or extruded from a living creature. The non-biological had no such restrictions, but contained warnings of eye irritation. The biological formula also made vague statements about their formula being safe but that some individuals might experience skin irritation. There went my other hypothesis, that the biological formula was made from all-natural ingredients.

I looked around for someone I could ask. Several times I made up mind to just speak up to a total stranger, but they either avoided my gaze completely or just looked me in the eye and smiled. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Finally, after about ten minutes of re-checking labels, I turned to find someone right behind me. "Excuse me, do you know what the difference is between a biological and a non-biological laundry detergent?"

The attractive young woman laughed and said "Yes, and you've asked EXACTLY the right person!!!" I'm a nurse, so I do know the difference. The biological formula contains enzymes that digest the soil and bacteria on the clothes. If they don't get rinsed out completely, they can irritate your skin when they try to digest your skin cells." She went on to say that unless your clothing is REALLY soiled, for example if your son plays rugby (he has) or your Hubster, even (he hasn't) then you usually wouldn't need the biological formula. She exclaimed again about how I had asked exactly the right person, so I explained that I usually use the detergent made for sensitive skin without added dyes or fragrance. We decided together that the Fairy brand, good for baby clothes (they also make dish detergent, which I remembered from 1978) would make a good choice. I thanked her and went on to the checkout.

After leaving Tesco, I crossed two busy streets to get back to A Flat on Abbey Road. Just ahead of me in the intersection was the helpful nurse. I raised my jug of detergent to her and said "Cheers", which is a joke that I guess only Americans who do laundry would get. I'm afraid it was lost on her. She speeded up a little as she crossed the street so she would be well ahead of me.

Yesterday, after laundry load ten entered the machine, I decided to go out and do some errands. On my way past the Abbey Road Crossing, I passed a huge contingent of French-speaking teen girls. I actually had to step into the road to avoid ruining their photo opportunity in front of the Abbey Road Studio. Once across the street, I could hear an American couple planning their next move over a map. Should we have lunch now? I wonder where we could find a restaurant? I passed them, but something in their tone made me turn back and retrace my steps. "Do you need directions?" Yes, they wanted to know where they could find a restaurant nearby. I gave them detailed directions, and they asked me how long I'd been here. We had a nice chat. They were from Connecticut, etc. They wanted to know why we lived in London, was our daughter happy, did we like it, where did we live, etc. I told them that we lived in A Flat on Abbey Road, and that we thought that made us pretty cool. They agreed, it was cool.
Meanwhile, the gaggle of French geese passed by and they thanked the young couple for helping them. Apparantly they had been on a scavenger hunt, and the man had given them the answer to the question: What was the name of Paul McCartney's dog? Too easy, I said, and proceeded to provide the name and the breed of the dog immortalized on the White Album. The woman nudged the man and said "why don't you tell her why you're here?" , so he did. He was about to attend Rock Band Fantasy Camp, with tutelage provided by somebody from o the Rolling Stones, somebody from Pink Floyd, sorry, don't know any other living personnel's names that are NOT Roger Waters, and a visit to Pete Best in Liverpool. EXTREMELY COOL. I think he wins.

I told them I keep busy by writing a blog about living in A Flat on Abbey Road. I hope they remembered the address. So here's a shout out to Mr. and Ms. Cool from Connecticut: Cheers!