I used to hate going with my mum. She'd fallen out with the manageress of the closest one so we used to have to go to one that was a two-and-a-bit mile walk away with washing in my old pram - she couldn't drive and refused to get the bus. I don't know why, we had enough money for the fare.
I now realise we also had enough money for a bloody washing machine and my dad was always offering to buy one but she thought it was extravagant and he was scared to overrule her 
. She did everyone's washing, except for blankets and sheets by hand, so I can't complain.
I think she didn't think it was worth getting the bus for three stops. As a result I was a very fit child because we walked nearly everywhere, so I can't complain about that either
I don't remember how long it took. It seemed like hours. I think she must have taken me for company but I can't remember talking. I used to take a comic and when I finished it, it was so boring. And the trudge home in the dark on a winter Sunday evening when it was drizzling...
She wouldn't waste money on the driers either so depending on the season the house would be a freezing bog or sweaty tropic for days as her '70s bubble-gum pink acrylic blankets slowly dried on the backs of kitchen chairs.
My dad did manage to convince her to buy a washing machine in the end. But when it broke down about 10 years ago she didn't bother replacing it. She could hand wash the little stuff and liked going to the laundrette for the big stuff because she liked being with people. Not that she was a lonely person. I don't think I will ever have so many friends as her.
So damn you, you've made me cry, OP. Don't worry. I'm joking. It's been nice to talk about something as silly as going to the laundrette 