“Are you sure that’s ok?” he asks.

“Of course it is,” I reassure him.

“Are you sure that’s ok?” I ask, in turn.

“No problem,” affirms Big A, on the other end of the telephone.

Relieved, I grab some of the most urgent washing and stuff it into a bin bag, before taking another black bag from the cupboard, trotting outside, and filling it with some spare straw for his chickens. It is neighbourly transactions like this that make communities go round. I scoot down the garden path, feeling all community-minded.

It occurs to me, as I am half way across the road, that I have no identification on me whatsoever. No credit cards, no driving license, nothing. And it also occurs to me that, should the worst happen and I am run over by a passing haulier, the police will be faced with the task of piecing together my entire life based on the profile of an unidentified accident victim found with one black bag of farmyard straw and one black bag of womans’ used panties.

I do not wish my life to be reduced to ‘Body – STRAW/PANTIES’ on a whiteboard in some anonymous police station somewhere. Thank God for the upcoming ID cards – I wish we could have them sooner.

Big A is waiting at his front door, and takes the straw gratefully. He shows me to his washing machine.

“How does it work?” I ask.

He looks blank. “Search me,” he replies.

26 Comments

  1. I meant to say (before the shock of being first knocked it out of my head) that in my mind’s eye I can see a whiteboard reading “John Strawpanties Doe.”

  2. Do chickens eat straw?

    How much is straw worth? It’s just long grass that’s dried, right? If that’s the case, I’m sitting on a goldmine. I’m going to grease up the strimmer now.

  3. Is that some sort of euphemism?!?

  4. Hah! Shackleford, I mock your lack of country knowledge. Long drass that’s dried is hay. Straw is left over from wheat.

    It’s not expensive if you buy it buy the ton. Its very expensive if you buy it by the bag in petshops.

    Jonny, clearly you should have your name and address tatooed on to yourself somewhere. Then,not only will the police be able to identify your squished corpse, but it will come in handy if you ever catch Amnesia and need to know who you are.

  5. You wrote “panties”. HA! Knickers would suffice – but not panties. Oh god, no.

  6. Is amnesia infectious then? Oh blimey. Most of my family has it already.

    My husband doesn’t know how to work the washing machine either. It’s the reason he has to keep me. I keep him because I don’t empty the kitchen bin. Of such things long marriages are made.

  7. Hang on, why’s Zed’s photo up and not the rest of us’s? Its blatant favouritism because she’s younger and prettier than I am, fair enough, but I bet Valerie and the others are gorgeous.

  8. You’re going to launder the straw and give the chicken knickers to wear?

  9. “Thank God for the upcoming ID cards – I wish we could have them sooner”

    So you can leave that at home too, no doubt.

    Don’t fret so over ending up as ‘Body – STRAW/PANTIES’ on a police whiteboard. There’s advantages to anonymity, especially when you are, well, you know, you. Just think of all the smack they’d be writing up there if they knew who you were…

  10. What about the laptop? Is it fixed yet? I guess it must be since you are posting. You are hilarious. I so enjoy your dialogue.
    ♥Rosemary

  11. Thank you Rosemary. Your logic is quite right. It was broken when I wrote the broken laptop post though however.

  12. most urgent washing … woman’s used knickers …

    Yet it is *you* have the tummy upset … i am concerned at this inference, jonny.

  13. …ooops, carnalis, now that you mention it…

  14. Are you wearing the LTLP panties now as there is no mention of underpants or are you down to only one pair since your holiday?

  15. Did you search him? Did he have proper ID?

  16. Perhaps if you and Big A were to try on the womans’ panties, the operating instructions for the washing machine would flow into your brains by way of…er…hormonal osmosis?

  17. Do you not have your name sewn in your pants? I fear that too will become a Government requirement in time.

  18. Thank God for Bagpuss. i couldn’t quite grasp how grass could turn stiff and yellow.

    It’s comforting to know that it isn’t just the men in my family who can’t use a washing machine.

  19. Pat, it’s definatley not just the men in your family.

    We didn’t have a washing machine for about 5 years and had to go to the launderette just like in Eastenders. You only have a choice of three different washes and my very own LTLP claimed to be confused.

    When we finally got a washing machine of our very own he then claimed he couldn’t make head nor tail of all the different numbers. So in a cruel to be kind bid to make him face his fears I stopped washing his clothes.
    After being smelly for a while he finally took the plunge. Now he uses it with ease. His solution is to playing a washing machine lottery using the lucky dip method to select the programme.

    Whoever said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks just wasn’t devious enough!

  20. Making him use the machine to wash his own clothes can be outflanked by his ‘helping’ you and putting your clothes in with his and other such larks.
    You wouledn’t want to stop him from ‘helping’ would you?

  21. I feel I need to admit something.

    Just called the washing machine repair man out. Washing machine was not working.

    Power button quickly disovered and selected by the repair man.

    Ouch.

  22. Sandy Path : but does he clean the drain screen?

  23. “Launderette – Best place for doing dirty washing in public.”

  24. Pat: Even I don’t do that!

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