Following on from yesterday’s post (sort of), I woke up this morning with a childhood memory that may amuse you.
This one revolves around washing powder.
Popular brands at the time were Fairy Snow (loved the smell but it made us all itch),
OMO and Tide.
I like to think I was a helpful child, keeping my room clean and tidy, helping out with the ironing with my own little board and light socket plug in iron, washing and drying up, you know the usual things to earn my pocket money.
So one day I offered to clean the bathroom.
I wasn’t very old, and we were living in the council house, so it was in the early ’60s.
I knew nothing about bleach or other household cleaners, and reached for Mum’s box of Tide and a sponge.
Dad heard my screams and came rushing upstairs.
I was crying and in my panic had broken the lock on the bathroom door and couldn’t get out. Dad suggested pushing the key under the door but I couldn’t do that either, so he had no choice but to get the ladder and come and get me from the outside.
In the meantime, things in the bathroom were getting out of control, the bubbles were cascading up the bath and over the rim on to the floor, and the more I tried to push them away with the sponge, the more frothy they became.
I was sobbing my heart out, crying that the bubbles wouldn’t go away, not realising that the sponge was actually making things worse.
Dad climbed through the window, nearly slipping in the bath in his haste, and took me in his arms until my sobs subsided.
He unlocked the door (I hadn’t broken it after all, it was just a temperamental lock) and carried me downstairs.
It’s a bit of a family joke the day Di’s Tide came in.
I’d used the whole box (a new one at that) as I wanted to do a good job.
This might have been around the time Mum switched to Daz, the one that washed whiter than white.