We’re not exactly sure who wants to read a blog about laundry (or dishwashing), but having one helps more people find us on the internet – so every so often we’ll post an update, maybe some detergent trivia, perhaps a joke about non-bio, sometimes even an ode to the dirty dishes. Welcome to a smol blog. posted.


a smolly jolly christmas

Posted by smol on

In the run up to Christmas we're here to remind you that lots of wrapping paper isn't recyclable... and a whopping 114,000 tonnes of it gets thrown away in the UK at Christmas each year😱😩 Brown paper, on the other hand, is recyclable and much cheaper! Plus, it can still look beautiful under your Christmas tree🎄🎄🎄 If you want to jazz up your brown wrapping paper a bit, you can always use paint or stamps to bring a bit of colour to your pressies! (And, this can be a great Christmas craft to get the kids involved in… what’s sweeter...

big is dead, long live smol.

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a smol refill

Posted by smol on

Did you know you could return your empty smol cases to us? Deliveries come and go here at smol HQ but we especially love receiving your empties that you return to us for re-use. Whilst they are 100% recyclable (including the label), some of you live in areas where the council doesn’t accept them (although 79% of UK councils do). And many more of you simply prefer to return your packs rather than recycle. Either option is more sustainable than the mainstream so pats on backs all-round. Once your empties arrive, we check and clean them before they are refilled....

big is dead, long live smol.

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ghostly goings on..

Posted by smol on

One spooky night in October,  I was walking back home alone, I was passing my neighbour’s house, When I heard a terrible moan. I looked around, frightened and scared, Then I laughed at myself and grinned, “You’re being silly, it’s nothing. It was probably just the wind.”   But that’s when I heard it again, A frightening, worrisome whine. It came from the neighbour’s garden. From a ghost on the washing line.   The phantom was pale and white, It fluttered and flapped in the breeze, So I screamed and ran to my door, Desperately clutching my keys.    I climbed...

big is dead, long live smol.

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