Washing lines#1

Fine Lines a celebration of clothesline culture  by Cindy Etter-Turnbull doesn't appear to be available in UK but Canadian and US readers can get it here. I was lucky enough to win my copy at Letters from a Hill Farm.  It is a highly entertaining as well as informative book and well worth the effort of tracking down a copy. Each section had me reminiscing, remarking on the changes in our domestic habits over the last 60 years or so and frequently laughing aloud.

I was surprised  to learn that in some parts of Canada and US clotheslines are banned! I haven't heard of that happening here yet but we all know that where America leads England tends to follow. I'm getting my "Hands off my washing line!"  placard ready, just in case. My first thought on a warm, breezy day is how much laundry can I get washed and out to dry? It would be a brave official who would try to stop me!

You might wonder, as I did, at the idea of a clothesline culture. Don't people just put their washing out to dry in the sun? Believe me, after reading just a few pages of Fine Lines, I realised that the how and where of laundry drying is embedded in our cultural identity. I don't intend to spoil the book for would-be readers but I am going to pick out a few aspects of clothesline culture to explore here over the next few days. Do join me with your own memories and observations.

Nappy drying service at Butlin's holiday camp 1955

My mother always had two long washing lines made of rope and supported by wooden props. She would have approved of the rows of nappies blowing in the breeze in this picture from BBC archives. However, she would not have had that tattered nappy on display for the neighbours to see! Less than perfect items were dried on an indoor rack in the kitchen.

 There were more wet Mondays than dry ones in Lancashire, so this ceiling clothes rack was in constant use along with the 'clothes maiden'

I think this was a northern name because when I moved to the south of England I could only buy this type and it was called a clothes horse:

I didn't see any props in the southern gardens, all my neighbours had pulley lines. My Lancashire soul needed a prop so a friend made one for me, a little more sophisticated than this one, but not much!

My cottage garden is too small for a proper washing line so I now have a rotary line that can be packed away in the garage when not in use and I have a tumble dryer and the Aga for those wet days.

 

Modern appliances are useful but not nearly as satisfying as the old ways of doing things. As a young mother, I loved to look out on my rows of terry nappies blowing in the wind. I loved the fresh outdoor smell of the dried laundry and was really surprised when one of my neighbours told me that she never dried her washing outdoors because she hated her clothes to smell of the sea.

My mother had very precise ways of hanging out the washing. It was sorted and folded and put in the basket in the order it was to pegged on the line. The basket was carried out into the garden with the bag of pegs and a damp cloth for wiping the line - skipping that would lead to trouble if she found a dirty mark on a shirt or sheet. Next time I'll look at pegs and how the clothes were hung out to dry.

Uplifted by birdsong

When my friend D and I met up yesterday, we exchanged belated Christmas gifts. We share a love  of garden birds and D gave me this book and CD of birdsong:

I have been playing it in the kitchen this morning while baking, making soup and generally pottering. It created the most relaxing yet uplifting environment and I achieved far more than I had planned. The birds in my garden are  busy eating to ward off the cold at present and their singing won't begin until the spring weather arrives. Thanks, D, this has brought spring and summer into the house!

One of my favourite poems is Siegfried Sassoon's Everyone sang. He wrote some of the most powerful poetry of WW1 but this poem is full of hope or, as he himself described it, release.  Like the birdsong, I find it very uplifting:

Everyone suddenly burst out singing; And I was filled with such delight As prisoned birds must find in freedom, Winging wildly across the white Orchards and dark-green fields; on--on--and out of sight. Everyone's voice was suddenly lifted; And beauty came like the setting sun: My heart was shaken with tears; and horror Drifted away ... O, but Everyone Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.

With cheerful voice

It is probably far too late for New Year greetings but this is my first post in 2011, so here goes: Happy New Year!

Where have I been and what have I been doing? Well, the days have been full and have flown by but there is nothing terribly exciting to report. I've been quite preoccupied with some difficult situations among family and friends, where cancer is affecting far too many people who are dear to me.

Then a few days ago, I had an email from my long-time blogging friend, e, who said she was missing my 'cheerful voice.' That made me realise how deep into despond I was sinking and that I really ought to shake myself out of it. I have been reading some of my favourite blogs and finding that many of you have been writing about things that make you cheerful and grateful and this morning the postman brought me a package from Nan at her Hill Farm; it was a book that has had me chuckling all day.  Thank you all for kick-starting my optimism. I'm now ready to think of my own reasons to be cheerful.

I have plans for writing about the book that arrived today but that is for later in the week. In the meantime I will just remind myself how lucky I am:

My three lovely grandchildren

 

Living by the sea

 First signs of Spring

A lunch date with my dear friend D at the Exeter Inn tomorrow

Now that I have started, I can think of hundreds of reasons to be cheerful. I must be out of the doldrums at last!  I've been in something of a royalist mood since seeing The King's Speech last week so here is a clip from the celebration of the 50th anniversary of the Queen's coronation in Westminster Abbey. It is undoubtedly "with cheerful voice."
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