I fear I’m becoming a naturalised Pom because of my kitchen sink. I have always sniggered at the curious English practice of washing up in a plastic bucket placed in the sink. I always thought this a pointless and parsimonious little habit – a bizarre hangover from post-war bleakness perhaps. (Was Fairy Liquid rationed?)
You’d thank that it would be drought-dry Australia with this thrifty tradition of sparse water washing. It’s only recently however that grey water collecting and whiplash showers have become so widespread there. Surely if there’s one country that should be up to its elbows in luxurious suds, it’s England. With so much water falling down everywhere outside, showers should be lavish monsoon-like affairs, rather than these anaemic dribbles which are so useless at removing shampoo.
So when quizzed about the bucket-in-sink phenomenon, most English people murmur something about being able to empty leftover wine into the sink without tainting the washing-up water. Now it won’t surprise you to learn that I’ve never had a problem with leftover wine, but I have succumbed to the English method simply because my sink has a leak. So until it’s fixed, I’ll have to go native as I snap on my Marigolds and bend over my frugal bowl of bubbles.
Fortunately, before I become irreversibly anglicised (dare I say minogued?) I’m off to France and Italy for a few weeks of continental therapy. I’ll blog more on my return, I promise.
You’d thank that it would be drought-dry Australia with this thrifty tradition of sparse water washing. It’s only recently however that grey water collecting and whiplash showers have become so widespread there. Surely if there’s one country that should be up to its elbows in luxurious suds, it’s England. With so much water falling down everywhere outside, showers should be lavish monsoon-like affairs, rather than these anaemic dribbles which are so useless at removing shampoo.
So when quizzed about the bucket-in-sink phenomenon, most English people murmur something about being able to empty leftover wine into the sink without tainting the washing-up water. Now it won’t surprise you to learn that I’ve never had a problem with leftover wine, but I have succumbed to the English method simply because my sink has a leak. So until it’s fixed, I’ll have to go native as I snap on my Marigolds and bend over my frugal bowl of bubbles.
Fortunately, before I become irreversibly anglicised (dare I say minogued?) I’m off to France and Italy for a few weeks of continental therapy. I’ll blog more on my return, I promise.
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