Now, the rest of this may not make sense to some of you until I explain that you do things differently on your side of the pond. I realize that your washing machine only has one water input, and an internal heater that heats the water to the correct temperature, but that's not the way we do things here. On this side of the pond, washing machines have two water inputs. A red one for hot water and a blue one for cold.
Also, laundry rooms have two water faucets. A red one that supplies hot water and a blue one that supplies cold water. (If anything in that last sentence surprised you, please don't tell me. I do NOT want to know. My brane hurts enough already.)
There are also two water supply hoses. Although often identical, my set has a visual (but not functional) difference: one has blue bands on the ends and the other has red bands on the ends.
OK, so now you know what is supposed to happen.
In my innocence and naïveté I figured that I should connect the blue hose from the blue faucet to the blue input and the red hose from the red faucet to the red input. Yes, I know that it would have worked just as well to connect the red hose from the blue faucet to the blue input and the blue hose from the red faucet to the red input, but I have spent enough time tracing wires and/or cables in sound and electrical systems to know not to mess with useful color indicators when present.
I turned on the washer, and immediately noticed a problem.
(STOP. NOW. Ten points if you can spot the problem.)
The washer did not fill. After a brief contemplation of why my pipes might have frozen again, I realized that it helps to turn on the faucets. I did so. The washer filled up with warm water (as requested) and started washing my clothes. I took this to be a sign that I'd done everything correctly, and left the washer alone until it finished.
Then I took my clothes out to move them to the dryer. They were unexpectedly warm. My washer does one type of rinse. Cold. Cold water does not normally make clothes warm. In an attempt to determine the cause of this weird behaviour, I started another load. A cold load. The washer did not fill with cold water. In fact, it started filling with something that bore a remarkable resemblance to hot water.
Apparently, some idiot thot it was a plumber and decided to arrange my laundry room so that the blue faucet supplied hot water and the red faucet supplied cold water.
*sigh* Add something new to my list of things to fix. Does the stupid list ever get shorter?
 Redundant and repetitive, I know. Go away.
 Not unless said clothes contain decent concentrations of metallic sodium, metallic potassium, or similar.
A) This is completely off topic for this particular rant,
2) I was pretty sure I had not treated my clothes with either, and
III) There was no characteristic fire resulting from the reactions between the aforementioned metals and water.
 Anything stronger is practically impossible to get anyway, and even if it could be acquired, can be pretty much trusted to ignite spontaneously when exposed to air. Since my clothes were not on fire when I put them into the washer, I didn't bother to consider this option.
 I heartily endorse the definition that a "thot" is what bounces around in an idiot's head and masquerades as a "thought". (I do not deny that I have these on occasion.)
 To whatever extent "decided" and "decision" can be applied to what ever thot process (or lack thereof) was (or was not) used to make said "decision".
 So yes. I left out the step of connecting the drain hose to the drain pipe, and the step of connecting the mains plug to mains power. While the latter would also have caused the failure-to-fill symptom, the former would merely have caused Interesting Times (sorry, pterry) when draining. In either case, these tasks were both performed properly, so my failure to mention them serves no purpose other than to leave red herrings on the hunt for the real problem.
 Yes. Dale is in a self-referential mood today. Take it up with /dev/null.