Wandering Through The Land Of Nod.

A 1970s washday and how it resonates down the decades and into a new century.

The cold March wind whipped around corners and between houses and bit into my bare knees and face when I walked home from school for my dinner. 

That day, I guessed the house would be empty, and I guessed right.  I went through the back gate and looked into the garden to see towels flapping in the breeze and mam wrestling bed sheets onto the clothesline.

It was Monday and Monday was washing day.

Do you know why Monday was washing day?

Factories didn’t work on Sundays, so by Monday the air was slightly cleaner and better for drying clothes!

I rushed to help get the sheets on the line and before I went back to school, I would get them in and hang some more out.  The sky was bright blue, with little white clouds scudding along, so it promised to be a good drying day and in our house that meant a good week.

What were Mondays like when you were at school?

The Twin Tub.

The Monday kitchen was a humid, damp place smelling of washing powder and long green bars of soap, used for scrubbing shirt collars and cuffs.  The height of washing luxury for my mam was a twin tub, which was dragged into place and filled by a hosepipe from the kitchen tap.  Laundry went into the soapy water in a strict order; whites first, progressing to towels last.  When each load was done, mam used a pair of wooden grabbers to lift everything into the spin dryer, which she filled with cold water.  When the dryer lid was pressed down, it switched on the motor which rinsed and spun water out through another hose pipe which we held over the sink.  If it wasn’t loaded properly, the whole machine jumped around the kitchen floor. 

Thus, once a week the whole family’s clothes and all the household linen got washed! 

Strange that with all our labour-saving devices, nowadays the washing is never finished!

Monday Dinner.

Everywhere was dominated by washing.  There was nowhere to sit, no empty surfaces and no towel to dry our hands on.  Monday food was tasty and predictable.  We ate cold meat left over from the Sunday roast with bubble and squeak – fried up left over potatoes and cabbage -followed by rice pudding.  Rice pudding was quick and easy to prepare and could be left cooking in the oven without needing any attention.

Comfort Food echoes down the ages.

When I was six, mam went into hospital and I was looked after by my eighteen-year-old sister.  Every day she cooked rice pudding for me.  That was the only food I said I liked and it’s real comfort food!

When our children were young, every Monday we ate baked potatoes and rice pudding.  This wasn’t so that I could concentrate on washing, but so that we could go swimming after school and get home to ready cooked hot food!

Washing dominates.

When I was a student nurse, I was irritated by older women who spent their breaks fretting about if their washing would dry.  Is that all they care about? I thought, I would never get like that, but I grew up into just such a woman!

About forty years later, I was walking home to the Vicarage.  It was a beautiful, bright day and I hoped to put some washing out before my next appointment.

Because I was thinking about washing, imagine my surprise when I opened the door to find a parcel.  A gift from a friend.  It was a book called Washing Lines, a collection of poems collected by Janie Hextall and Barbara McNaught.  My friend’s mum was having a clear out and they thought I would like it.

It’s delightful and here’s a favourite poem of mine: 

I stop writing the poem

to fold the clothes.  No matter who lives

or who dies, I’m still a woman.

I’ll always have plenty to do.

I bring the arms of his shirt

together.  Nothing can stop

our tenderness. I’ll get back

to the poem.  I’ll get back to being

a woman.  But for now,

there’s a shirt, a giant shirt

in my hands, and somewhere a small girl

standing next to her mother

watching to ssee how it’s done.  This is written by Tess Gallagher.

Here’s a quote from “Laundry” by Ruth Moose, which is so good!

There is joy in clean laundry.

All is forgiven in water, sun

and air.  We offer our day’s deeds

to the blue-eyed sky, with soap and prayer,

our arms up, then lowered in supplication.

What memories of washing day do you have?  I’d love to hear about them!

Wander well,

Mandy.

Things I love:

• The smell of breeze dried washing.
• A very good rice pudding.
• Having an automatic washing machine.