Lift floor wet. Mopped.
Out at the fifth floor. Fifth floor, from lift to laundry, wet. Mopped.
No caretaker. No one in the laundry. Except me.
It’s quiet. A note on my right hand machine: SORRY - OUT OF ORDER.
One machine is enough.
Wash done, extractor for all, dryer for all but trousers for which I want no shrinkage.
Folding my dried clothes standing at the folding table where the bench used to be overlooks the city. The sound of washers on spin. Sunlight through the four south facing windows of the laundry. Hot air rising from vents on rooftops.
The D texts: I’ll be in between half 3 and 4. My train leaves at 12.12 from leeds. You around or am I busing it?
Reply: You’re bussing it. You want me to meet you somewhere?
Reply: Bus stop in town? So you can carry a bag? Bout 4ish? You not got a car?
Reply: yes got car, rather not drive. See you at bus stop 4ish
Reply: Cool, ok
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