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London, stuff

England, that green and line-dried land…

One of the things I love about the UK is the smell of clean laundry. You get it less in places like Canary Wharf, I assume because bankers et al dry-clean, or their neutral-toned view flats are equipped with German-engineered washer/dryers…

Everywhere else, though, that lovely aroma turns up, cutting through the funk and fumes, often in the most unexpected places, and it’s a great equaliser. Hipsters, gangsters, OAPs, guys in string vests – they can look as tough or standoffish or over-the-top as possible. Pass by, and they’re betrayed by a waft of Small & Mighty or Downy Ultra. It’s hard not to smile at them, they smile back, everyone has a nicer day, etc etc. OK, sometimes you still get mugged, but you get the point.

I suppose I should like this because line-drying clothes is far more sustainable than using a dryer, as well as being good exercise and apparently patriotic, or lament it because it’s proof that in England, living space is cramped, electricity is overpriced, and living standards are about 40 years behind (do NOT get me started on plumbing). In fact, I just like that it strips away all the bullshit. And it smells nice.

Now if only the trend would spread in the US; at least they’re trying.



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