Domestic Life

In the early part of the twentieth century life was hard for the housewife and the word that governed was ECONOMY. Nothing had to be wasted and all that could be recycled was. Large families (sometimes including and infirm granny or granddad) and low wages determined that you had to "get the good of everything". To feed clothe her man and bairns, to keep then warm and clean, was the mother's raison d'etre even though she herself might be holding down a full-time job in farm or mill.

The typical living room usually had a bare floor of scrubbed boards or linoleum (probably made in Kirkcaldy). In front of the fire there would have been a rug either made of cast-off pieces of cloth stitched in rows onto a jute backing, or cut wool in contrasting colours and designs worked by the family members on winter nights. At the side of the fire which was a range comprising oven, bars against which to 'finish off' bannocks or toast bread and a swey from which to hang the broth pot was faither's chair, sometimes the only comfortable chair in the room.

Since the fire was the only heat source in the house, it was often 'banked up' at night using ingenious methods of economy briquettes moulded from coal dross, cement powder and water or parcels of wetted newsprint wrapped around dross mixed with vegetable peelings. In the morning the fire would be reactivated, by poking through to let air to the embers.

Every housewife's kitchen gear included a girdle for bannocks and scones, a large deep-sided frying pan with a lid to strain off bree or fat, a broth pot and a porridge pot.

Additional items would have been smaller pans, a jelly pan for jams, sets of enamel pie dishes and various stoneware utensils for storage.

On one day a week the range was allowed to die down and it was cleaned and black-leaded. The rugs were taken out and hung on the line or fence and given a good beating.

Cleaning cupboard staples of the time were paraffin, vinegar, meths, Fullers Earth, bees wax and bleach. Cold tea was used to good effect on dark linoleum and also to tint lace curtains a creamy shade.

Washing clothes was no easy feat either. Monday was traditionally wash day. Fires in the washhouse were lit early and the laundresses with hands wrinked like prunes rubbed fine items on washboards. There was a dolly or beetle to pound the clothes as they seethed, and a zinc scoop - the lifter - to shift water from the hot source to the sink. Huge wooden pincers allowed the laundress to move boiling clothes to the depp sink to rinse, and a very neat Acme wringer, would have been the latest thing to squeeze the excess water out.

A packet of Reckitts Blue would have been used to whiten, a packet of Robin Starch could have been used to stiffen collars and petticoats.

If the washing did not dry outside it was dried indoors draped on wooden clothes horses with canvas hinges set as near to the fire as dare and the house would be wreathed in warm damp air and soapy smells.