- Grace Horak 20.08.1992-
Grandma's Wash-House . Hamilton
The wash house was really a long narrow room, part of the house in ballerat Road, just inside the back door on the right and opening into the kitchen. there was a wood -fueled copper in the far corner in a soild brick stand, and beside that two large wooden troughs smelling of a dampness. To the right of these on a support of wooden slats stood the pig bucket. There was no pig of course as the home and land were inside the town boundary, but the hens were glad enough of the kitchen scraps for variety. All this milk based mess was poured into a wooden trough with a cloping sides out pst the wood shed.
On Mondays a wonderfuly satisfying smell of boiling clothes in sudsy water filled the place. The corrugated wash board and bar soap were constantly in use , and blue had been added to the rinse water to the clothes would not look yellow. The huge old wicker clothes basket was very heavy when full of clothes and it was a very long walk down the steps, past the separator house through the hand gate, past the little old frowning wood shed and round to the cow's water trough, to start oegging the clothes on the line propped up with long props made of saplings. There as abother line at right angles to the first as everything was washedon one day because of the hot water.
The very large wood box stood on the left side opposite the pig bucket and it was my job to fill this box every day after school. It took many trips to the wood heap about 70 steps away from the box, The red gum wood marked and hurt your arms and it seemed a super human task. Reg had to cut the wood, but I thought I had the worst of the deal.
Past the wood box there was an ancient metal washing machine with a conical top amd bottom. No one ever spoke of it ever having been used to wash clothes, but the top lifted back and all the bread was stored there., white high tin loaves. The stale bread use to get very hard and then perhaps it could be used in a pudding.
Clarrie Porter delivered the bread daily. He drove a lanky bay horse that pulled the smart bakers cart. All the tempting types of bread were displayed in a rectangular basket he bought to the back door. It was a happy event meeting the baker who was always very cheerful and friendly greeting us. We gazed longingly at the neat little brown loaves and womdered if one day in the future we might just possibly have fresh brown bread. They looked so absolutely tempting. If only Mum would realise it was a good idea, if only one day.
There was a door at the far end of the wash house but it was never used as it was high up above the ground and no one had ever built steps there. When you walked out of the kitchen down the steps and round to the left past the corrugated iron water tank, you could see the lovely old untended purple bougainvillea blooming on the trellis. It was completely unchanging, always presenting a cheerful aspect, and perhaps it grows there still.
Grace m Horak 20.08.1992.
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1924 - 