It was a good job that I was given this short moment of pleasure as the day could not have continued more frustratingly if it had tried.
Laundry used to be one of my favorite duties. Much more preferable to a full dust vac of the boat, detailing a cabin or of course the dreaded bleaching of the wooden shower grates with a toothbrush.
Today every technical thing that could have gone wrong did. It was a busy day with two uniform changes among the thirteen crew, one set of guest bed sheets to wash, roll and iron, four sets of crew bed sheets, guest and crew clothing, napkins, rags, teatowels and towels. Every time that door opened one of the deckies would be throwing yet another towel to the pile in the middle of the floor that was close to reaching the ceiling (or overheads as they are called in the boating world). To make matters worse the towels are orange. This has become the colour of evil for me. After four months working in an orange packing shed in South Australia; I now cannot bare the sight, smell, taste or feel of oranges, satsumas, clementines, mandarins, juice and the colour orange in general. Unfortunately it just so happens to be the owners favourite colour. It looks great for the decor of the boat but an ever-growing pile of orange towels taking up the entirety of the laundry room just brings me back to those days in that shed. Once they are washed I put them in a towel carrier (we still haven't found the real name for one of those baskets) in the crew mess, ready to greet me at the end of the night to be folded into their tightly rolled, edge perfect fashions.
Napkins wait by the roller to dry enough to roll, but despite the Bahemian heat combined with the heat of six washers and dryers: they remained soaking wet. The stacks of uniform pile up on the worktop as nothing can be returned with so many of our crew having their sleepy time at different intervals throughout the day. One of the machine floods the entire floor of the laundry where three loads of CLEAN, DRY towels sit waiting in the basket. After we get that machine up and running , the one next to it follows and remains out of action for the rest of the day. I imagine its like having twins when you finally get one to stop crying and the other one starts.
Rolling : definitely one of my least favourite activities. We have to roll king size sheets the size of a yacht into a roller the size of a bath toy boat, all while trying not to let any of the white sheet touch the floor, interact with any of the dirty washing or overflowing machines. You can imagine my dismay when after hours of rolling I am at the next stage : ironing, with our new super-iron Laura. I had heard so much about Laura, a stewardess' dream. Laura was so skill full that the girls even referred to her as our 5th stew. Well, NOT for me...Just about to get to my last fold of a pristine, white guest bed sheet when Laura spins out of control, burning my little finger, zig-zagging across the sheet before flying onto the counter... I grab her before she drops, burning my thumb and in the seconds that I lift her to her home at the side of the iron board she poo’s all over my sheet.
After cleaning her all out, flushing her and returning the stained sheet to the washer, I start again with the duvet cover. She smears brown all over that one too. This is going to be a long night.
Laundry used to be one of my favorite duties. Much more preferable to a full dust vac of the boat, detailing a cabin or of course the dreaded bleaching of the wooden shower grates with a toothbrush.
Today every technical thing that could have gone wrong did. It was a busy day with two uniform changes among the thirteen crew, one set of guest bed sheets to wash, roll and iron, four sets of crew bed sheets, guest and crew clothing, napkins, rags, teatowels and towels. Every time that door opened one of the deckies would be throwing yet another towel to the pile in the middle of the floor that was close to reaching the ceiling (or overheads as they are called in the boating world). To make matters worse the towels are orange. This has become the colour of evil for me. After four months working in an orange packing shed in South Australia; I now cannot bare the sight, smell, taste or feel of oranges, satsumas, clementines, mandarins, juice and the colour orange in general. Unfortunately it just so happens to be the owners favourite colour. It looks great for the decor of the boat but an ever-growing pile of orange towels taking up the entirety of the laundry room just brings me back to those days in that shed. Once they are washed I put them in a towel carrier (we still haven't found the real name for one of those baskets) in the crew mess, ready to greet me at the end of the night to be folded into their tightly rolled, edge perfect fashions.
Napkins wait by the roller to dry enough to roll, but despite the Bahemian heat combined with the heat of six washers and dryers: they remained soaking wet. The stacks of uniform pile up on the worktop as nothing can be returned with so many of our crew having their sleepy time at different intervals throughout the day. One of the machine floods the entire floor of the laundry where three loads of CLEAN, DRY towels sit waiting in the basket. After we get that machine up and running , the one next to it follows and remains out of action for the rest of the day. I imagine its like having twins when you finally get one to stop crying and the other one starts.
Rolling : definitely one of my least favourite activities. We have to roll king size sheets the size of a yacht into a roller the size of a bath toy boat, all while trying not to let any of the white sheet touch the floor, interact with any of the dirty washing or overflowing machines. You can imagine my dismay when after hours of rolling I am at the next stage : ironing, with our new super-iron Laura. I had heard so much about Laura, a stewardess' dream. Laura was so skill full that the girls even referred to her as our 5th stew. Well, NOT for me...Just about to get to my last fold of a pristine, white guest bed sheet when Laura spins out of control, burning my little finger, zig-zagging across the sheet before flying onto the counter... I grab her before she drops, burning my thumb and in the seconds that I lift her to her home at the side of the iron board she poo’s all over my sheet.
After cleaning her all out, flushing her and returning the stained sheet to the washer, I start again with the duvet cover. She smears brown all over that one too. This is going to be a long night.