Geoff Stead of Kendal, recalls Washing Day in years gone by.

ALAN Lord's article about washday (August 31), reminded me of the Monday routine when I was young.

First, the gas boiler was filled with cold water, then lit by means of a match applied to a hole in the side of the boiler.

The gas supply came through a rubber tube, and an anxious moment of waiting followed, until Mam heard the satisfying 'plop' of ignition.

Once heated, the water had to be ladled into the peggy tub, using an old pan. The really hard work then began; possing the clothes with a long-handled implement, rubbing them on the rubbing board which stood on legs in the tub, and using plenty of elbow grease, as Fairy Soap, in a green block, was plentifully applied.

Then, after a final rinse in the kitchen sink, the mangling process began. The mangle was an impressive piece of equipment with thick wooden rollers on a cast-iron frame, turned with a large wooden handle.

Sometimes, if Mam was feeling a bit weary, I was called upon to turn the handle, keeping fingers well out of the way of the rollers, of course.

Finally, if it was a fine day the washing was hung out to dry on a clothes line at the front of the house, and if wet, on lines in the kitchen, which Dad had fixed up on a series of hooks just below ceiling level. One had to climb up on the kitchen table to load them up.

All these precesses took up most of the day. Although we were a family of five, maybe there was not as much washing as might be expected, since we only changed our shirts, socks, and underwear once a week.

Mam followed the above routine right up to her death in 1986, not trusting washing machines which, she maintained, 'knocked your clothes about summat shocking'.

Ironing took all day Tuesday, but that's another story......