This drawing of the interior of a 1930s house shows some typical features (although not all of these would be in one room).
I lived in one from the 1950s, by which time some of the features had gone, but many I remember. I especially remember the fireplace. It seemed (to me as a young child) that the mantelpiece was very high, With it’s dark stained wood it was very imposing. Mum cluttered the top with pieces of brass. I remember a couple of brass goblets and a mini brass bell.
In one room the fireplace had green tiles (which my mum detested having lived through the common WW2 green paint decor) and in the other room it had red tiles, much nicer and warm in colour. Until we had gas fires installed in the 1960s this was the main focus of the room on winter evenings. Memories of crowding around the red tiled fireplace in the back room (the green tiled front room one was rarely lit) stay permanent in my memory. And that memory is always of a bright fire in the hearth, a cup of Ovaltine in a ‘moon face’ mug and the lights off. (Mainly because my dad was a skinflint and would save electric whenever he could. Although today he’d be regarded as a first rate energy efficiency ambassador ! )
The only dado rails we had were in the hall. By the 1960s these had been decorated with a bamboo design wallpaper above the rail and below was a thick textured, beige leather effect paper. A conscious shift from the original 1930s introduced by my mum who loved to try modern trends.
We had picture rails. In the front room a porthole,-style brass mirror was hung on a chain. The mirror had an odd effect when you looked into it. Think it was convex. Also hung from the rail was a French cafe scene picture and one of the Austrian alps, very common in the sixties.
The picture rail in the back room had nothing hanging from it except when mum did the ironing. This proved useful for hanging ironed shirts on until put away. And because there were too few plugs in the house (despite having a father who was an electrical engineer) she sometimes connected the iron up to the light bulb fitting. Horrifying, but it’s true. I also remember, more often than not, rooms where light bulbs were out of action for some time before they were replaced. Something I now have an over exaggerated reaction to when one stops working today !
I don’t remember any wood panelling, but I do remember wooden parquet floor around the edges of the room and hall, infilled with carpet. Having relations in the carpet trade in Yorkshire, we were never short of carpet. Mum eventually succumbed to removing the parquet and had fully fitted carpets laid.
We had bay windows. The upstairs one constantly leaked. Dad was forever up a ladder trying to fix it. He wouldn’t stretch to employing a professional to fix it. The windows were Crittall, which in those days were dreadful, they rotted around the frames from the condensation, then frosted in winter - pretty patterns appeared on the glass but it was very cold, because we only had one fire lit.
The kitchen, a box, had the minimal in it. No fridge or washing machine (well you’d be hard pushed to get either in there. But it did have a pantry (using the space under the stairs), with a side window to let in air. You couldn’t call it a kitchen, and certainly not by today’s standards.
So the drawing has rekindled a few good memories. But the reality is the houses weren’t always well built, and certainly not cozy. Well in my experience they weren’t. Viv.
I lived in one from the 1950s, by which time some of the features had gone, but many I remember. I especially remember the fireplace. It seemed (to me as a young child) that the mantelpiece was very high, With it’s dark stained wood it was very imposing. Mum cluttered the top with pieces of brass. I remember a couple of brass goblets and a mini brass bell.
In one room the fireplace had green tiles (which my mum detested having lived through the common WW2 green paint decor) and in the other room it had red tiles, much nicer and warm in colour. Until we had gas fires installed in the 1960s this was the main focus of the room on winter evenings. Memories of crowding around the red tiled fireplace in the back room (the green tiled front room one was rarely lit) stay permanent in my memory. And that memory is always of a bright fire in the hearth, a cup of Ovaltine in a ‘moon face’ mug and the lights off. (Mainly because my dad was a skinflint and would save electric whenever he could. Although today he’d be regarded as a first rate energy efficiency ambassador ! )
The only dado rails we had were in the hall. By the 1960s these had been decorated with a bamboo design wallpaper above the rail and below was a thick textured, beige leather effect paper. A conscious shift from the original 1930s introduced by my mum who loved to try modern trends.
We had picture rails. In the front room a porthole,-style brass mirror was hung on a chain. The mirror had an odd effect when you looked into it. Think it was convex. Also hung from the rail was a French cafe scene picture and one of the Austrian alps, very common in the sixties.
The picture rail in the back room had nothing hanging from it except when mum did the ironing. This proved useful for hanging ironed shirts on until put away. And because there were too few plugs in the house (despite having a father who was an electrical engineer) she sometimes connected the iron up to the light bulb fitting. Horrifying, but it’s true. I also remember, more often than not, rooms where light bulbs were out of action for some time before they were replaced. Something I now have an over exaggerated reaction to when one stops working today !
I don’t remember any wood panelling, but I do remember wooden parquet floor around the edges of the room and hall, infilled with carpet. Having relations in the carpet trade in Yorkshire, we were never short of carpet. Mum eventually succumbed to removing the parquet and had fully fitted carpets laid.
We had bay windows. The upstairs one constantly leaked. Dad was forever up a ladder trying to fix it. He wouldn’t stretch to employing a professional to fix it. The windows were Crittall, which in those days were dreadful, they rotted around the frames from the condensation, then frosted in winter - pretty patterns appeared on the glass but it was very cold, because we only had one fire lit.
The kitchen, a box, had the minimal in it. No fridge or washing machine (well you’d be hard pushed to get either in there. But it did have a pantry (using the space under the stairs), with a side window to let in air. You couldn’t call it a kitchen, and certainly not by today’s standards.
So the drawing has rekindled a few good memories. But the reality is the houses weren’t always well built, and certainly not cozy. Well in my experience they weren’t. Viv.
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