Washing Day

When I was a little Clayna, only knee high, my favourite doll was my Rageddy Ann. She was life size, with a beautiful patchwork dress and red wool hair. She went everywhere with me. No one was allowed to touch her nor clean her.

One rainy day (I remember it well) my mummy wanted to wash her. After the tears and a good fight she succeeded. I cried throughout the whole cycle. We BOTH (what mother's do) stood outside in the rain. Me waiting, hands cupped, to save Rageddy Ann from when she shot out of the drain pipe, and Mummy trying to reason with me.

After the tears (from me) and the screams (from my mum) a very soggy us came in and I sat by the window of the washing machine watching Raggedy go round, and around, and around. Tears and tears and tears.

Eventually, she did come out - albeit damp and shrivelled. She wasn't the same again. Her hair was a mass of knots, but thank goodness it didn't felt! Her stuffing became all nobbly, but thank goodness it didn't escape.

So, after visiting the dry cleaners on Saturday with my sheepskin and faux fur lined coat.

And having them refuse to clean it.

And being told to do as the label says.

Wash in a large capacity washing machine on a 40 degree cycle.

Flashback. Raggedy Ann.

It wasn't raining, but yes, I sat by the window for approximately 57 minutes during a delicate wash cycle.

How did it come out - Ach you don't to know.

P.S if anyone knows where I can purchase this mirror...