Extreme washing up

In marked contrast to most household chores, I've always loved washing up. Even with a dishwasher to hand, there's something just too tempting about rinsing and scrubbing a dirty plate or pan within moments of it's having been used, knowing how much quicker and easier it is to clean before the goo and gunge has a chance to set. In fact I find it therapeutic and even an aid to post-prandial digestion. Of course, like all "experts" I have my tried and tested techniques and my strict prohibitions (don't even think of dumping unrinsed dirty dishes into a sink-full of soapy water, do pre-clean with kitchen roll, make tactical use of the long soak and always think aeration when drainng !).

Such is my fondness for washing up that I sometimes have to be restrained, especially if there's a decent dishwasher on offer. But after my time here in SP, I feel that this little eccentricity has finally been vindicated and validated. My whole life has been one long training session in preparation for the current washing up marathon. Bob Dylan has his Never-Ending Tour and I have my Never-Ending Wash, Rinse & Drain. We're both equally committed to our art.

Have dishwashers penetrated Brazil to much extent ? Perhaps as part of the recent white goods revolution, but somehow I doubt it. After all, a country where hot running water is still largely unknown is a country where washing by hand must surely be the order of the day. No doubt for many people there is a human dishwasher in the form of a maid.

As I mentioned previously on this blog, we did originally have an electric hot tap in the kitchen, but after one too many "mild" electric shocks we asked our dear landlords for a replacement. Always keen to fulfill the letter of the law, they responded by fitting a new ... cold tap, albeit one located higher up than the first, so providing a certain degree of usefulness in it's sheer velocity. A hardcore washing up aficionado will always be fascinated by experimental tweaks, enhancements and innovations. So I soon began to assess the potential of water-only cleaning as opposed to water-and-soap. Probably a step too far, I concluded, but certainly a welcome new weapon in my armoury.

With an endless procession of baby bottles and other infantile accoutrements also needing to be cleaned (and that's before they go into the sterilizer), I have seen my enthusiasm for washing up tested to the max. I have felt the loneliness of the long-distance washer-upper. I have entered the world of extreme washing up and am now a potential player in the rarefied realms of Red Bull competition. If and when I return to a land with running hot water and dishwashers I may even dispense with these "unnecessary luxuries" in pursuit of my newfound sport: top-level, cutting-edge, competitive washing up.