Memories

[AlanHo]

Remember?

You have to be a certain age to appreciate this. I can hear my mother now ...

THE BASIC RULES FOR CLOTHES LINES:

(if you don't know what clothes lines are, better skip this)

1. You had to wash the clothes line before hanging any clothes - walk the entire lengths of each line with a damp cloth around the lines.

2. You had to hang the clothes in a certain order, and always hang "whites" with "whites," and hang them first.

3. You never hung a shirt by the shoulders - always by the tail!. What would the neighbours think?

4.. Wash day on a Monday! . .. . Never hang clothes on the weekend, or Sunday, for Heaven's sake!

5. Hang the sheets and towels on the outside lines so you could hide your "unmentionables" in the middle (perverts & busybodies, y'know!)

6. It didn't matter if it was sub zero weather ... clothes would "freeze-dry."

7. Always gather the clothes pegs when taking down dry clothes! Pegs left on the lines were "tacky!"

8. If you were efficient, you would line the clothes up so that each item did not need two clothes pegs, but shared one of the clothes pegs with the next washed item.

9. Clothes off of the line before dinner time, neatly folded in the clothes basket, and ready to be ironed.

10. IRONED?! Well, that's a whole other subject!

A POEM

A clothesline was a news forecast

To neighbours passing by,

There were no secrets you could keep

When clothes were hung to dry.

It also was a friendly link

For neighbours always knew

If company had stopped on by

To spend a night or two.

For then you'd see the "fancy sheets"

And towels upon the line;

You'd see the "company table cloths"

With intricate designs.

The line announced a baby's birth

From folks who lived inside -

As brand new infant clothes were hung,

So carefully with pride!

The ages of the children could

So readily be known

By watching how the sizes changed,

You'd know how much they'd grown!

It also told when illness struck,

As extra sheets were hung;

Then nightclothes, and a bathrobe, too,

Haphazardly were strung.

It also said, "Gone on vacation now"

When lines hung limp and bare.

It told, "We're back!" when full lines sagged

With not an inch to spare!

New folks in town were scorned upon

If wash was dingy and grey,

As neighbours carefully raised their brows,

And looked the other way .. .

But clotheslines now are of the past,

For dryers make work much less.

Now what goes on inside a home

Is anybody's guess!

I really miss that way of life.

It was a friendly sign

When neighbours knew each other best

By what hung on the line.

[MANEMAN]

Yep ! I do remember.

Left out of course was the omnipresent "Mangle" with it's rubber rollers, gradually tightened together by means of a wrought iron "tap" on the top.

Items would sometimes be passed through up to four times before being deemed dry enough to hang on the line.

Chimneys belched out black smuts, and some items of the wash were returned from the line straight back to to the sink for a handwash, or if bad enough, - the scrubbing board.

Ladies actually replaced the inside of shirt collars that had been too many times to the scrubbing board. (Often with fabric taken from the shirt tail) It was a happy "Make do and mend era."

Well, I was happy, never did ask Mum !

A hole in a sock soon saw Mum sitting with a little wooden mushroom darning the offending orifice. Months were spent hobbling around on this intricate piece of needlecraft which felt like a bloody pebble in one's shoe.

The scrubbing board doubled up as a musical instrument and complemented the piano at party times."Nowt was wasted."

If you couldn't scrape up enough money for a Mars Bar, a quick run around the turnups of Dad's trousers in the wardrobe usually made up the defecit.

I recount these stories to my wife to no avail.

Still this Christmas she complained of the gift of labour saving devices, both Blowtorch, and Metric Wrench Set.

[AlanHo]

Yep ! I do remember.

Left out of course was the omnipresent "Mangle" with it's rubber rollers, gradually tightened together by means of a wrought iron "tap" on the top.

Items would sometimes be passed through up to four times before being deemed dry enough to hang on the line.

Chimneys belched out black smuts, and some items of the wash were returned from the line straight back to to the sink for a handwash, or if bad enough, - the scrubbing board.

Ladies actually replaced the inside of shirt collars that had been too many times to the scrubbing board. (Often with fabric taken from the shirt tail) It was a happy "Make do and mend era."

Well, I was happy, never did ask Mum !

A hole in a sock soon saw Mum sitting with a little wooden mushroom darning the offending orifice. Months were spent hobbling around on this intricate piece of needlecraft which felt like a bloody pebble in one's shoe.

The scrubbing board doubled up as a musical instrument and complemented the piano at party times."Nowt was wasted."

If you couldn't scrape up enough money for a Mars Bar, a quick run around the turnups of Dad's trousers in the wardrobe usually made up the defecit.

I recount these stories to my wife to no avail.

Still this Christmas she complained of the gift of labour saving devices, both Blowtorch, and Metric Wrench Set.

Bloody 'ell - you know how to spoil a woman..................one present would have been quite enough.

[andsome]

Yep ! I do remember.

Left out of course was the omnipresent "Mangle" with it's rubber rollers, gradually tightened together by means of a wrought iron "tap" on the top.

Items would sometimes be passed through up to four times before being deemed dry enough to hang on the line.

Chimneys belched out black smuts, and some items of the wash were returned from the line straight back to to the sink for a handwash, or if bad enough, - the scrubbing board.

Ladies actually replaced the inside of shirt collars that had been too many times to the scrubbing board. (Often with fabric taken from the shirt tail) It was a happy "Make do and mend era."

Well, I was happy, never did ask Mum !

A hole in a sock soon saw Mum sitting with a little wooden mushroom darning the offending orifice. Months were spent hobbling around on this intricate piece of needlecraft which felt like a bloody pebble in one's shoe.

The scrubbing board doubled up as a musical instrument and complemented the piano at party times."Nowt was wasted."

If you couldn't scrape up enough money for a Mars Bar, a quick run around the turnups of Dad's trousers in the wardrobe usually made up the defecit.

All rings a bell.:lol:

[Gandalph]

Very familiar memories in that Alan.