It was a good, reliable washing machine. Weekend after weekend it swished, swirled and spun my clothes from dirty to clean. Which was infintely better than beating them on rocks to get them clean.

I could always depend on it to start and run and dispense its soap and softener as required. For over 20 years it was an integral part of every Saturday morning.

But then, a couple of weeks ago, it developed a severe weakness. It would swish and swirl as always, but its spin became sickly. The repair man said it would cost $350 for the major surgery to revive it.

Out it goes, to be replaced on Monday by a snazzy new number with buttons to press and lights and warning buzzers galore. Farewell, old washer. Hail to the new!

Ave atque vale!