Members Stories
Washdays in the 30's

Who in this day of automatic washing machines and driers would spare a thought for my generation. Just think of the time and energy which went into this very essential task. Every week on Sunday night, the whites were soaked in a tub. On Monday morning, rain, hail or shine, guess whose task it was to light the copper. Yes, you’ve guessed right. From around aged 12 years, that was my job. First the copper had to be filled with cold water, and then it took around one hour to boil. Then finally cut up velvet soap, a small packet of I.X.L. washing powder and a handful of washing soda and it then was all go. First the whites had to be transferred from the tub to the copper. Imagine frozen hands in winter – but the smell of the copper full of clothes boiling away is something I’m sure will linger in my memory. Then the awful job transferring the clothes on the washboard to the tub. Horror of horrors if the board slipped, which it did occasionally. Then the clothes were put through the hand wringer into the rinsing water in which a Reckett’s Blue bag had been dissolved. The awful backbreaking job was to come – handwashing the coloureds. These had been painstakenly graded from light colour down to the heaviest and dirtiest while the copper was boiling. Then the starching. It was my job to make the starch which on occasions turned out like porridge, or thick and lumpy, or thin as water. What a worry that was. What a joy it was on a nice fine day pegging out the snowy white sheets – no coloured ones in those days. I well remember learning morse code while pegging the towels to spell S-O-S and wondering if the little plane buzzing overhead would recognise it. Everything had to be pegged together – sheets, towels, teatowels, etc. No higglity-pigglity would suit my mumma. The clothes were all drying beautifully on long straight lines running from the house to the bottom of the yard (No sections in those days, I don’t think the word was invented). The lines were pushed high in the air by teatree props bought from the prop man for 6d. Dad decided to make some by joining lengths of wood together. It wasn’t long before we bought new ones 1/6d or not. So to the end of the day bringing in the washing – folding, stretching the stiffly starched long, long tablecloths, one pair of hands at each end. My day being a pastry cook wore long white aprons and of course a high white hat. All these had to be starched stiff. I well remember my job as a little girl (hardly able to reach the table) was to straighten out very painstakingly all the tapes on the aprons. Then of course as I got older having to iron all the ghastly aprons and caps. Woe betide me if they weren’t perfect. Thinking back to those days, wash days lasted at least three days before they were finished, almost time to start again, washing, drying, damping down starched things. Then ironing day. No just folding up and putting away anything, everything had to be ironed.

Oh Well, enough of those good old days. I’ll just turn on my automatic washer and make a nice cup of Instant Coffee and read the paper.

Ho Hum, life’s not so bad after all.

Kaye Bland 1991