Of course, I made a fundamental mistake with my list. I didn't put anything simple down - well, one thing for the Sage to do, but everything else is a two-person job at least. I won't bore you with the whole thing (though I have bored darling Martina, who is much too nice to admit to it) but here are a few items to give the flavour - 'Fence the vegetable garden for the chickens', 'dismantle old greenhouse' (this is sad, but it's not worth repairing it, especially with two other greenhouses that we don't fill), 'take down summerhouse.' Oh, and 'gather up all metal junk for scrap metal merchant.' I've got a deadline for the end of this month for disposing of this and other junk, otherwise I'll order a skip and fill it (this is my compromise, but I'm a fool to have made it). I prolly should add to the list the things I can do myself, to encourage me. And add a column to mark each job's priority (ok, this is getting nerdish, I won't do that).
It was much colder this morning, so just as well I was going to a Nadfas lecture and not planning to work outdoors. This afternoon, I had typing to do ... so faffed around doing not a lot except read the papers and play my current favourite iPhone game. Yes, I know. Well, I like games and if I want to waste time, it's my own. In a few minutes my alarm will go off, reminding me that I have a date with the hairdresser. I'm afraid that I smell of woodsmoke and probably have a lot of grit in my hair, but I didn't wash it this morning - h'm, probably have a pillow smelling of woodsmoke now. Oh well. I'll turn it upside down, not changing the bedclothes today.
Do you remember, you who are my sort of age, that we used not to wash our clothes and towels constantly? Before the days of electric washing machines, when I was a child, when clothes were hand washed, *you* (your mother) sponged off marks and washed what was actually dirty. In our case, we sent sheets and towels to the laundry, but we were very lucky to be able to afford it, it was much more work otherwise.
A few hours later
I had my hair cut. I like going to the hairdresser and it was pleasantly relaxing. I should get my photo taken for my new passport before I wash my hair and it goes to hell in a handcart again. If hair can do that without me, that is. Hell in a handcart sounds quite fun, but probably is a bit more rollercoaster than is pleasant.
I'm booked to play the organ for another funeral next week. It's all making me ever so introspective. This is a friend, actually, or he was until he withdrew into himself and didn't really want to see anyone. I'll be glad when Andy is able to play for funerals again.
Oh, and we had a letter from the cleaning agency saying that they came and couldn't raise us. Sorry? We were here and waiting. I'd spent quite a long time tidying in preparation and stayed in all afternoon in case they were late. No, I don't know and I can't be bothered to talk. I'll email.
Darlings, I've foolishly drunk the third glass of wine (I only half fill the smallish glass so that it's a unit at a time, but all the same) and I'm tired because I don't sleep, so please ignore the short paragraphs and bitty nature of the post. Tomorrow, Weeza is coming over with the children and we're looking forward to that, but the forecast is jolly cold so we're not sure what to do.
Oh, and Ro and Dora have booked a holiday in France which is very good, but sadly and without realising, they will be away for the blog party. Ro (we didn't see Dora yesterday) is genuinely disappointed. He would have loved to see you.
It was much colder this morning, so just as well I was going to a Nadfas lecture and not planning to work outdoors. This afternoon, I had typing to do ... so faffed around doing not a lot except read the papers and play my current favourite iPhone game. Yes, I know. Well, I like games and if I want to waste time, it's my own. In a few minutes my alarm will go off, reminding me that I have a date with the hairdresser. I'm afraid that I smell of woodsmoke and probably have a lot of grit in my hair, but I didn't wash it this morning - h'm, probably have a pillow smelling of woodsmoke now. Oh well. I'll turn it upside down, not changing the bedclothes today.
Do you remember, you who are my sort of age, that we used not to wash our clothes and towels constantly? Before the days of electric washing machines, when I was a child, when clothes were hand washed, *you* (your mother) sponged off marks and washed what was actually dirty. In our case, we sent sheets and towels to the laundry, but we were very lucky to be able to afford it, it was much more work otherwise.
A few hours later
I had my hair cut. I like going to the hairdresser and it was pleasantly relaxing. I should get my photo taken for my new passport before I wash my hair and it goes to hell in a handcart again. If hair can do that without me, that is. Hell in a handcart sounds quite fun, but probably is a bit more rollercoaster than is pleasant.
I'm booked to play the organ for another funeral next week. It's all making me ever so introspective. This is a friend, actually, or he was until he withdrew into himself and didn't really want to see anyone. I'll be glad when Andy is able to play for funerals again.
Oh, and we had a letter from the cleaning agency saying that they came and couldn't raise us. Sorry? We were here and waiting. I'd spent quite a long time tidying in preparation and stayed in all afternoon in case they were late. No, I don't know and I can't be bothered to talk. I'll email.
Darlings, I've foolishly drunk the third glass of wine (I only half fill the smallish glass so that it's a unit at a time, but all the same) and I'm tired because I don't sleep, so please ignore the short paragraphs and bitty nature of the post. Tomorrow, Weeza is coming over with the children and we're looking forward to that, but the forecast is jolly cold so we're not sure what to do.
Oh, and Ro and Dora have booked a holiday in France which is very good, but sadly and without realising, they will be away for the blog party. Ro (we didn't see Dora yesterday) is genuinely disappointed. He would have loved to see you.
15 comments:
I remember only having one bath and hair wash a week before showers became common in all bathrooms.
And I loved the wooden laundry tongs my Mum used... but that's going back some!
Sx
"'gather up all metal junk for scrap metal merchant.' "
In case you don't know... you legally now have to produce a passport or photo driving licence and a utility bill from within the last 3 months when taking anything to a scrappie. They legally have to photocopy these and keep it with a line by line account of everything you've taken in. They then give you a copy of the list and pay you by cheque, even if it's only a couple of quid.
It's the thieving chav's fault.
And, unless it's a lot of money's worth, it's just not worth the time it takes. It used to take me 2 minutes to take our aluminium cans and other scraps in twice a year. It took nearly and hour the other day. For £10. And, round here anyway, scrappies aren't known as the most honest of people - they then have a copy of two official documents of yours. Wonderful scheme, what?
He'll come to us and we know him, he's okay. If it's not worth his while, he needn't come, we don't want anything for it. I know about the requirements, it's because of all the church lead, copper pipes etc being stolen. Otherwise, it'll all go in a skip - I don't mind, I just want rid of it.
I went to a convent school and well remember the smell emanating from the laundry and feeling sorry for the nuns who spent their working lives there. My mother washed the clothes in the bath and the sheets, towels etc went to the laundry. Spoiled, we were.
I don't remember how many loads per week of laundry Mom did when I was a child. Only dry cleaning was
sent out. Bath/wash hair once a week at that time too. We must have been a stinky lot!
Z-the list didn't bore me, just made muscles develop sympathy aches considering all of that hard work.
I was just four when a washing machine arrived - along with sister no3. That must have been late 1959 as we were both October babies. It was such a big event, we lived way out in the middle of nowhere and my mother saw few people during the week, that I remember the washing machine salesman and his girlfriend being invited for cocktails! So funny, everyone dressed in evening dress as the machine did its first washload.
We sent a whole big basket of laundry to the ... um, laundry, plus dry cleaning, and my mother did a big load of handwashing every week. I remember hankies being soaked in salt water, what a nasty job washing those must have been.
We didn't have a washing machine until the late 60s. I love the thought of the party!
What's a shower, and what's hair?
A shower is one who shows, John dear. And hair - you've been in need of hair of the dog in your time, haven't you?
I suppose as a small child I never gave laundry a thought - except the mysterious concept of the 'bag wash'.
But being 'sponged' was a daily occurrence. I think we only had a few clothes - those for school, a set for play and something for parties which was too big one year, the correct size the next and too small the year after. And probably only worn 3 times.
Hello, Mountaineer, you're very welcome. Clothes for me were often my sister's cast-offs. Since she's five years older than me, it's just as well that I was indifferent to fashion.
Oh yes, I remember not washing clothes and towels constantly. I do it all the time.
I discovered my first iPhone game a couple of weeks ago. I find it quite soothing.
I'd be interested to know how itinerant scrappies are dealing with the new regs.
If they are allowed to collect from houses without needing the official documents, or if they know the person, I can see a huge loophole and lots more delayed trains and roofless buildings as a result...
The sort who knock on your door and offer to take stuff away? - yes, being asked for ID before they'll take it will prove a problem! We're perfectly willing to have our details kept as a record by him - and if he can't manage the paperwork then we'll have the skip after all. It doesn't matter to me.
Receiving my grandmothers old wringer washing machine around 1954-55 and watching my Mom using it is still a vivid memory.
Post a Comment