Is there anything, anything at all, more scrumptiously homely than Laundry Monday on a sunny Spring day?

After spending most of the morning sitting in the hospital waiting for blood tests, I have rushed home full of domestic vigour, ready to take on these four walls and go into glorious, sudsy, lavender scented battle with a mile high pile of laundry. Darlings, this is your housekeeper reporting from her very own state of bliss. The sun is shining, I have strung out a brand new pink washing line, filled my peg bag with new clothespins, land I’m ready to go.

Now it has been said that I have more washing than most people. Not because I have an army of children, or because Finley is a particularly grubby kid (he is), but because of the way I launder hand and bath towels. In fact do me a favour right now and settle an argument for me won’t you please? Because I seem to be in battle with almost everybody over this matter: namely  a best friend who wishes to remain anonymous but is renowned for her exacting standards in housekeeping. And almost everybody else, except my Mum, who I am pretty sure is with me when it comes to washing towels.

You see in my bathroom I have been doing the same thing for years: when someone takes a shower or bath, I request that the towel is then put in the laundry basket for washing. Then at the end of the day I take the hand-towel by the sink, replace it with another and pop the one people have been using all day into the laundry basket too. Then I wash them. This then is the modus operandi causing disconcertion among those who love me, for it is I am told, both unnecessary and a bit bonkers.

For apparently, in houses across the land, people are drying themselves from head to foot with a bath towel, then hanging it up dry and using it again (And again. And again, again and in some cases, again and again!), on the premise that as they are drying clean skin it is perfectly fine to then allow it to air and then use it again. And they go on to tell me, hand-towels can go on doing grubby duty for more days than they care to share, in case I allow my opinion of this domestic misdemeanor to sully our relationship for ever more.

So yes. I wash a lot of towels. And here’s the thing: I thought everybody else did too! Certainly my own Mum is often to be seen walking around with arms full of towels either wringing wet of fluffy from the dryer. It is what we do. We wash towels when they are used and certainly had no clue at all that other people where lightening their load by only washing towels as and when the mood strikes them.

Am I mad? A glutton for laundry punishment? Am I single-handedly contributing to a national water shortage and the cause of our annual hose-pipe bans with my crazy penchant for fluffy, fresh towels? Or are they the crazy ones, for choosing to wrap themselves n dry in towels coated in dead skin cells and the fragrance of Eau-de-damp?

Do put me right won’t you Housekeepers? I am eager to settle this argument once and for all…