Throughout the night the wind howled. Unsecured shutters on windows in nearby empty holiday homes banged against the walls and every now and then a crash made us toss uneasily in our sleep as furniture blew over on nearby balconies. At one point I woke up and, listening to the screaming wind, remembered that there was still washing hung out on the line. But I fell back asleep again without doing anything about it.
The next morning the sun shone and there was an autumnal coolness in the air. The wind was still strong, too strong for kite-flying, I thought glancing at a kite on a shelf. I opened the window to haul in the washing, and found that there were only a couple of pairs of knickers and a lonely sock flapping around on what, yesterday had been a full washing line.
I craned my neck out the window looking for my escaped washing while trying to remember exactly what it was that I had hung out the day before. There was nothing on any of the balconies nearby, nothing that I could see caught up in the trees or in the riverbed far below. I racked my brain to remember what I had washed. The duvet cover! Yes, that was it, an enormous white duvet cover. Now, where had it gone?
Eventually I spied it, hanging off a drainage pipe that jutted out over a dangerous precipice which plunged down into a rocky riverbed. Well, I certainly wasn’t going to risk my life trying to get it back. Although, it was a perfectly good duvet cover, it would be a shame to just leave it there. What should I do?
If I tell Carlo, he will insist on clambouring around the cliff-face, risking life and limb, just to save having to buy a new duvet cover. Although I know he would jump at the oppurtunity to show off about how big and strong and unfearing he is, and expect me to fawn all over him with admiration for the rest of the week.
Maybe I’ll just leave it. At least it will free up some space in the airing cupboard…