Di.Poppitt
GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN
I was ironing some white muslin curtains today, and the steam iron spat dirty water all over them. I tutted a bit as you do, and then got to thinking of my gran. She might not have had muslin, and no steam iron either, but one that had to be heated on the range, and the handle so hot it had to be wrapped in cloth.
What would she have thought if she had walked through my front door just then. She died in 1939, so the phone on the hall table would be a talking point. She would have known of them, but I'm pretty sure she didn't ever see one. The box on the wall that leads to the door bell, a door knocker in her house was a fist rolled into a ball. On her way to the kitchen she would see the dining room, a room which you leave when you have finished eating. The kitchen and all of its cupboards, never mind what she would find in them. But there's no fireplace, no washing line or mangle. How do these modern women do the washing?
Ah well, across from the kithen is another little room, and here I would have to introduce her to a new word, the utility room. How to explain that the washing machine can do the weekly wash in a couple of hours. No need to lug water from sink to boiler to wash tub, I don't use starch and there is no blue bag to double up to ease the pain of a wasp sting.
The box in the corner of the lounge would be a shock, the pictures in your own home - who ever would have imagined that.
On down the hall to the study and the computer, I think we would have to close the door. How could this feisty little lady be expected to keep her hand off this strange bit of kit, she'd have loved it.
She would be happy that her grandaughter didn't have to cross a piece of waste ground to go to the loo, or take it in turns as to who get's the clean bath water. I'd love to show her round, but I've got a feeling she's been alreadyand looked for herself.
What would she have thought if she had walked through my front door just then. She died in 1939, so the phone on the hall table would be a talking point. She would have known of them, but I'm pretty sure she didn't ever see one. The box on the wall that leads to the door bell, a door knocker in her house was a fist rolled into a ball. On her way to the kitchen she would see the dining room, a room which you leave when you have finished eating. The kitchen and all of its cupboards, never mind what she would find in them. But there's no fireplace, no washing line or mangle. How do these modern women do the washing?
Ah well, across from the kithen is another little room, and here I would have to introduce her to a new word, the utility room. How to explain that the washing machine can do the weekly wash in a couple of hours. No need to lug water from sink to boiler to wash tub, I don't use starch and there is no blue bag to double up to ease the pain of a wasp sting.
The box in the corner of the lounge would be a shock, the pictures in your own home - who ever would have imagined that.
On down the hall to the study and the computer, I think we would have to close the door. How could this feisty little lady be expected to keep her hand off this strange bit of kit, she'd have loved it.
She would be happy that her grandaughter didn't have to cross a piece of waste ground to go to the loo, or take it in turns as to who get's the clean bath water. I'd love to show her round, but I've got a feeling she's been alreadyand looked for herself.
