For today’s #throwbackThursday blog, I’m off for a washday wander down memory lane. To the days of washboards, starch and twin tubs!
Ironically, we wash on a Thursday in our house, although thankfully it’s not like it used to be. Washday for us is sorting the clothes out, putting it in the washer and walking away from it. Then we put them in the tumble drier (or drape them about indoors to dry overnight). I do still like to hang washing out to dry, although our back garden is in the shade at this time of year. Old habits also die hard, as I’ve never been one for having washing hanging about the house. I like to get them ironed after lunch, and sad though I am, I feel quite satisfied at the sight of my clothes horse groaning under the weight of freshly pressed clothes.
It’s not like washday when I was a little girl, far from it. When I was young, I would come in from school and find my mum in the kitchen ironing away while listening to the afternoon play on Monday on the radio. This was her once a week pleasure, and I had to be quiet while she listened to the end of the play. Ironing was done after a morning of hard work washing everything in her small twin tub.
Washday wander down memory lane…
Can you remember when twin tubs were new technology? It sat proudly in our kitchen with its grey formica top that doubled up as work top.
My parents didn’t have the luxury of a fitted kitchen in those days, and used whatever available space there was. Looking at how today’s generation have fully fitted kitchens with lots of space, it makes me wonder how on earth my mum managed to get meals ready and do all the things you do.
I’m also old enough to remember my mum using zinc tubs in the kitchen and scrub boards, back in the days when washing machines hadn’t been invented. When she finally did get her twin tub she was in seventh heaven.
I found this picture (above) in a magazine, showing a woman standing with her mangle, zinc tub and posser which is what people had to use in the days before washers were available. When they did become available they were still out of my mum’s reach price wise. So we were still subjected to the torture of the house and kitchen ending up looking like a Chinese laundry, as it took her so long to do.
Starchy washing
She had to fill one zinc tub with hot water (which is no mean feat when you think how heavy water is) while the other was filled with cold water to do the rinsing. Then there was a bowl of starch – all gooey and horribly slimy that nearly everything had to be stiffened in, even hanky’s. It wasn’t much fun when you had a cold and blew your nose, as if it wasn’t sore enough, it certainly was by the time you finished with the starching. The washing always looked like it had turned into stiff boards, pillowcases, shirts, you name it everything had a dunking in the starch bowl. Thank goodness she didn’t starch the knickers and underwear, imagine what fun that would have been!
My mum spent all day Monday washing, with clothes, water and gadgets all over the kitchen. It took her so long to do that she spent the full day washing and on Tuesday she ironed them. So then we had ropes strung round the kitchen ceiling where she hung her ironed washing to air, and they stayed there till Wednesday. Thank goodness she saved it all for Mondays is all I can say, at least it only happened once a week!
I can see her now, furiously scrubbing at the collars with soap and a scrubbing brush on the ribbed glass board that she hung on the zinc tub. I can only say I was glad I wasn’t the shirt collar as it didn’t half take some pounding. Todays shirts would probably have disintegrated if they got the scrubbing my mum did.
Moving into the modern world
She then progressed onto a small top loading washing machine, and was that a red letter day. Not as bad as when the house was full of zinc tubs and all the things she used, but still bad enough. I got the job of turning the mangle which I loved to do as I loved to see the flattened clothes come out with the water wrung out of them, but when she got her twin tub she was away.
Have a washday wander down memory lane with this video clip. If you’re too young to remember, this is a twin tub!
[arve url=”https://www.facebook.com/sixties.timemachine/videos/1542559485798354/” title=”Twin tub washing machine” description=”Twin tub washing machine” /]
She used to push it up to the sink, connect its hose to the sink taps and fill it with hot water straight from the tap. There was no more back breaking bucket lifting for her, but now the water slopped everywhere because the hoses always leaked. But she still wasn’t happy when she moved the washed things into the adjoining spin drier, no she had to also have a separate freestanding spin dryer which looked like as round pedal bin.
Only then when she’d spun everything to giddy heights was she satisfied, but oh the mess she made. There was water everywhere. Down the front of the sink unit, everywhere and still piles of clothes – waiting to be washed and the been washed – and so it went on.
The kitchen was like a tip, with heaps of sorted washing, a bowl for starch, another one to scrub the shirt collars with a scrubbing brush. I can see her now, up to her arms in suds, her whole body swaying like some kind of rhythmic dance, and boy could she scrub.
Hard work
Whether it was a floor, the sweeping brush or shirt collars, she certainly wore her calories off. My mum was a very small person, but she certainly wasn’t afraid of hard work. She put all her effort into everything she did. She must have slept well at the end of wash day as it was sheer hard work, not like us soft lot who put it all in an automatic. Then freshly ironed clothes were all put back up on the clothes lines to air in the heat of the kitchen.
Next in my washday wander down memory lane, I never could understand why she dried clothes to within an inch of their life, only to dampen them again. She had a bowl of water on the ironing board, to wet them through to get the creases out when they were ironed. Very odd. It was a practice I used when I first got married, as was using the starch bowl, until Derek complained of a sore nose with his starched hankies. We always copy our parents don’t we. Then I learnt more sense!
She had her twin tub for donkeys years until she was in her early seventies. After a lot of persuading might I add, I at last got her to come into the labour saving modern world and have an automatic washer.
I did get lots of earache at first as to how to use the ‘blooming thing’ as she called it, but when she did finally get used to it and saw how easy and tidy it was she became converted with her precious twin tub a mere memory.
You’ll catch your death
My mum would have a fit if the clothes weren’t snuff dry when she put them away, convinced we would catch our death of cold if they weren’t. It’s funny how little things come back to you when you least expect it. Forgotten memories, and the wish that you could see her once again, just to talk to her.
When my mum ironed and I was poorly, she would pull the settee up in front of the fire and lie me down on it. I remember well the feeling of safety and contentment, hearing my mum listening to her radio play while ironing, and hearing the swish of the iron going backwards and forwards. Now it’s me on my own watching TV while ironing, with the dogs for company, while the rest of them work in the office.
Childhood memories
Even so, Jane’s told me before, that she had exactly the same sense of safety and love when she was ill, hearing her mum dodging about doing her jobs. So my mum passed on her love and skills to me, as most mums do. Parents never die, they live on in our hearts, and pop into our heads with little things that remind us of their love and presence. That’s how it should be, that they’re remembered for all their little ways.
I still see her to this day doing all the things she did in the ‘good old days’ as they were called, but as she said they were very hard work days with everything very labour intensive. I used it once when my washer broke and was exhausted by the time I’d finished.
I wonder what I will do next to remind me of my past, it’s never far away anyway, with the rest of the things we mothers do. And what do we all do to finish off our ironing, whether it’s with a twin-tub, washboard or an automatic? Yes that’s right, a nice cup of tea!
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