My mother was a good homemaker. Some of my earliest memories were of her hanging out washing on her long line held up by props. She used to boil up the copper and honestly, she had the whitest washing ever. She used Rinso to wash the clothes and Lux Flakes for delicates.
When I was really young, we didn't have hot water on tap, so Mum would boil up the kettle, fill the sink- a single sink- and she used a metal cage thing- pictured here with slivers of Velvet soap in it to soap up the water. Steel wool was the go for saucepans and the plates were washed with a foam rubber sponge.
Whilst she was washing the dishes, she would have the kettle on again to rinse them. Then we children would dry them for her. We had metered gas by way of a machine with a coin slot in it in the laundry. When the gas got low, Mum would put sixpence or a shilling in it...
We all bathed daily and our hot water was heated by way of a chip heater over the bath. I can still remember fighting over who was the child who was to be seated under it. It was scary to a kid's mind. In fact, I sometimes still dream of it- making sure the water tap was on before lighting the pilot light.
Pride of place in our living room was the clothes horse aka clothes airer. Mum was very careful to air all our clothes and she spent quite a lot of time arranging clothes on it daily.
Mum had it tough too because we four children were bed wetters. She worked very hard to keep up with it all.
With all her neighbours finishing their chores by 9am, poor Mum was still washing the sheets. In fact, when they called on her for a cuppa, she would be flustered because she was inundated with work.
Mondays Mum "did through". She vacuumed, dusted, cleaned the bath and toilet and ironed. She also polished the linoleum in the kitchen with her Hoover polisher. It was quite a chore, with applying polish, buffing it with the machine then redoing it with the lambswool pads. Her Monday routine was as regular as the sun coming up in the morning.
Everyday, she would also make the beds, do her washing, think about what was for tea that night, clean her kitchen and sweep the carpets with a carpet sweeper. Routines were written in stone.
Mum didn't have a car, in fact Dad didn't even have one. She would catch the bus into town and shop for groceries which were delivered to our house. No plastic bags: the bags were brown paper...
I remembered how hard she worked the day I held her gnarled hand as she passed. She certainly loved her home and family...
I am so glad that God honours the hardworking woman. In writing her eulogy, I included that well-known and loved verse from Proverbs 31 and when it was read, everyone of us nodded our heads in agreement and acknowledgement. She was blessed.
Memories of a well kept house we were never ashamed to call home will always be dear, along with the memories of a tired but diligent homemaker and her wonderful serving of our family, and then her second husband's.
Yes, they're happy memories of a vintage housekeeper
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