Lavaropas: Scene 2

Scene 2

Enter Jordi wearing grubby white shorts, black vest top, hiking books with greying socks poking out. He is wheeling 4 bulging carrier bags on one of those wheel-lifts removal and delivery men often use. He fills machines 4 and 5 and perches down next to Quinn. Quinn continues to type rapidly but starts shifting unconfortably. He looks up angrily:

Quinn: You stink man!

Jordi: Sorry?

Quinn: Stiiiiiiiinky (waving his hand like a fan)

Jordi: Sorry?

Enter Elderly Señora wheeling a small shopping trolley with sheets and knickers semi-trailing on the ground. She is wearing a paisley-patterned housecoat and slippers, ankle tights protruding in dull orange. She pauses in the doorway, panting slightly and taking a moment to shift her teeth back into position. She surveys the room with beady eyes, nodding in approval and the whirring machines. With regulated gasps she fills machine 1 which is nearest to her, closes the machine door and sits down next to Jane.

Quinn shifts across to the far side of his seat, Jordi's mobile rings and he moves to the doorway and offstage to answer it...we hear him talking in muffled Catalan. Simultaneously Quinn's laptop announces a Skype call -he lets it ring out as he scuffels with his rucksack to find a headset.

Jordi: No. What? No, later...
Quinn: Hey man. How you doin?...
Jordi: yes, at the laundrette. ...
Quinn: So you heard?... yeah...
Jordi:Round the corner... he's not there anymore...
Quinn:Her cancer's kicked off again...
Jordi:Right next to the the snail restaurant...nono..
Jordi:.you know...next to the sex shop... What sort? ...
Quinn: No...In hospital since Wednesday...
Jordi:Which one?... Ill go there now...
Quinn:No way man, he's an effin piece of...
Jordi:later...where... I don't want to talk about last night ... no... (voice fading off)

Elderly Señora begins to look round anxiously, apparently wondering why her machine has not started the wash cycle. She shuffles over and bending down, peers inside, taps the glass mystified

Quinn:I don't give a ... what? No...
Quinn:Do I look like a retard to you? ..
Quinn:I can't do it man...

Elderly Señora bangs the top of the machine with suprising strength

Quinn:I'm effin crying now man...
Quinn: no way man...
Enter Consuela, the Elderly Señora's Bolivian carer:

Consuela: (panting slightly) There you are Mrs Fernandez, My dear lord god, I thank you, that I have found you. You scared me beyond my wits. What have I told you about not running away...

Lavaropas: Scene 1

Lavaropas


Scene 1


Set in a small laundrette on a small side street just off the infamous tourist-infested rambla. On the back wall there are 2 tiers of 3 dryers, and to the far right on the wall there is a seemingly complex payment machine, mapped out by uncertain diagrams and codes. There is something resembling a breakfast bar dividing the dryers from the washing machines and chairs – 4 washers left and 2 larger washers right. 2 sets of 3 chairs facing each other centre stage. Small bench next to door which is far right. The sound of a single washing maching moving into spincycle. Lights up on a solitary traveller (Quinn) in his late 20s, empty rucksack under his feet, unkempt beard and dark rings under his eyes- he is semi-hidden behind an apple mac laptop screen. Irritable fingers type anxiously. He doesn't even glance up as Jane arrives. She is also in her late twenties, white enough to be a tourist for sure. She heaves her full red ikea bag onto the floor next to machine 3 on the left hand side, shoves the dirty washing indiscicrimately inside and fumbles inside her handbag for her laundry card -cash might be simpler but using the card is 15% cheaper. She can't find it and in growing frustration she moves over to the bench by the door where she unhesittingly tips out the contents of her bag and triumphantly moves to the payment machine a the back with the card key. She prods away at various buttons, returns to machine 3, does some more prodding and finally the machine lights up -27 minutes to go – and the water begins to run. Jane signs, picks her book off the floor, where it fell in the bag-emptying venture – and after retrieving lip-balm and tishues from under the bench she settles on the chair opposite Quinn -who has continued to type frantically since she entered – and opens her book – an argentine play called Little Red Riding Hood.