Today I am taking my inspiration from a blogger whose writings I thoroughly enjoy, sliceoflife. I have especially been loving murphyslaw.  I had a little encounter that made me think of that focus on writing.  A little snapshot in time!

Remember  I said Ireland may be getting less sexist?! Fr Ted and nineties Ireland… Pardon me while I travelled back through time this morning, Marty McFly style, from a car park to the 1930s!

Myself and Betsy were in a small local town. Getting away from a tough few days Remember this? !. We parked in the convenient Mother and child space. Recently the supermarket acquired an outdoor self-service launderette. It now occupies most of the footpath so now the baby must be pushed out in the rain and back under shelter again!  It caused a nice stir when it arrived. Speculation. Who would want or need this facility? I reckoned tourists travelling on boats up the river would use it, as this town is a well known mooring location.

So there was a middle aged  gentlemen working away. I only observed him as I realised he was local and au fait with the machine. The first I had seen! I did think, fair play! No bother to him getting his laundry done. Forgetting all about him, I went into the shop.

Forty minutes later I was loading up the car. Same man was unloading a machine and packing up another. I barely registered only I was worried I might be in his way. He turned to me and declared in a rhetoric announcement, ‘Well amn’t I glad I never got married!’, turning to look happily at his towel wash spinning away. No answer required, he hopped back into the car (in a Mother/child space) and continued his cup of take out tea with a delicatessen roll from the supermarket. Satisfied smile.  Lunch and the washing done. No need for a wife when you have the local supermarket feeding your needs!

Once again the big chains are killing the small time sole trader!

I laughed. What else could I do? I do find it bizarre how contentedly this man assumed marriage was all about getting your chores done and your grub on the table. Emotional fulfillment me eye! Convenient contract more like. Here was I assuming he was a modern man. In his eyes, he absolutely was.