Mum’s wash day always used to be Monday, when she would get her machine out, attach the mangle to the top and line it up with the kitchen sink.
I remember that washing machine. It was cream in colour, square, and taller than me at the time. I recall her crying one day as she was doing the weekly wash, but I don’t know why. At just four years of age, I remember giving her a hankie, and holding her hand.
Tuesdays were ironing days. I had my own little iron that used to plug into a light socket, a small ironing board, and my own pile of ‘laundry’, consisting of hankies (ours were ironed in triangles, Dad’s and Bro’s were in oblongs), tea towels, and sometimes pillow cases.
Wednesday was housework and dusting day. The latter was my job, though I can remember cheating many times by just moving things around rather than taking everything off the mantle and doing the job properly.
Thursdays I think were shopping days. Just down to the local Mace store and butcher which were within walking distance for the things the grocery van (he came twice a week) didn’t deliver.
Friday was fish and chip night, but not from a chippie, we couldn’t afford that.
Having had a near fatal choking episode on a fish bone, I always had fish fingers or fish cakes, and didn’t touch ‘proper’ fish (other than smoked haddock (yellow fish) which was on very special occasions) for years.
Saturday mornings, us kids went to the cinema on the bus (tuppence).
It was sixpence to get in to watch the cartoons.
The tuck shop was accessed by a staircase from the lobby, and you could get an awful lot for a few pennies, which was just as well as we only had a shilling pocket money.
Saturday tea was sprats and winkles fresh from the harbour, and fresh crusty bread, spread with real butter (my Dad could tell the difference between Stork and Butter just by looking at it). The sprats were cooked over an open fire, but I would stick to the boiled winkles with my pin. I don’t think I could stomach eating them today to be honest.
Sunday was reserved for visitors, but regardless it would start with a cooked breakfast, church, traditional roast dinner, and sandwiches, jelly and cake for tea.
Tea time on Sundays was the only day of the week we could have our dessert (jelly/trifle or fruit and ice cream) first.
After tea, it was bath and hair wash time, then we would either watch Sunday Night at the London Palladium or have a game of cards or Monopoly before going to bed, thus giving our heads time to dry (none of this primping with a hairdryer, gel, mousse and the like).
Why am I writing something a little nostalgic today?
Because it’s Sunday, and things are all so different now as nothing is done on specific days anymore.
I’ve done the ‘house/boatwork’, which took me all of five minutes to sweep through and another five to tidy up and make myself a cuppa. This is done every day.
Hubby is up in the laundry room on site. The bag was heavy with dirty clothes so we added the towels to make up the load. We do the washing ‘by the full bag’ as it costs us at least a fiver a time. This is when I miss having our own machine and a washing line, but to be honest, it’s no big deal.
Maybe he’ll do some ironing, but probably not, as we perfected the ‘folded press’ when camping. When things came out of the dryer, we folded it neatly whilst still warm and presto. No ironing required. The weight of everything else did the job for us.
The dog is curled up against my hip, snoring gently.
The sun is coming out, and the day is beginning.
People are going up to have showers, a couple are walking their border terrier along the dog walk.
Other than the ducks and their morning choral greetings, it’s quiet.
Another peaceful day on the marina.