.............As I hung out the washing I looked forward...

Two pigeons on the damp bare table pecking furiously at the last specks of seed. Must feed them asap.
The sky, a washed out bleached blue. Not a trace of anything warm. No cauliflower clouds or swooping screeching starlings just faded silent lifeless space.
My hands looked daft wrapped in yellow washing up gloves.
And as I pegged jumpers to the line cold water dripped down from my wrists skirting its way to my uncovered elbows.... I was glad though..... Always feel satisfied after completing a full sinkload.
Inside.
Mum...... warm in the front room. Monty luxurious, on the shaggy burgundy hearth rug coiled like dead fox fur around the shoulders of a grand lady.

Mr Hairy Suit brows very furrowed figuring out glitches on his laptop.

All is still. Like a painting.