A Washing Line Fiasco

Thought that the howling winds today would make excellent laundry drying conditions so headed out with basket after basket of washing. To say our washing line is tired, is understating the case. 
It is held, kind of in place by an old gardening trowel which means when it twirls, it twirls in a kind of wonky asymmetrical orbit, each section of washing being given the opportunity for a view over the fence before gently brushing the unmown grass beneath.
it also means that as the arms move through their upward sweep, you have to keep your eyes peeled, otherwise you get smacked in the face as it swirls round, or, for variation during a swift and surprising wind change, clipped smartly on the back of the head.
I am used to dealing with all this so was busily pegging out the laundry when to my dismay, a section of line suddenly decided enough was enough and pinged apart.
I ran frantically round and round, gathering line and washing together and desperately tying the ends off as best I could.
All pegged back on, ends tied, arms swirling asymmetrically. I am keeping a dispirited eye on the damn thing.

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