Tales from the wash-house
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Finish work at the Victoria Mill, five thirty. Mum would have a cup of tea and a bun ready for me. Then off I’d go, pushing my old pram with the family washing piled up. Full of steam and the smell of soap. This was our weekly chore at the wash-house. We’d sit for a while chatting until a place became vacant in what was called ‘the scrubs’. This was a tank of boiling water and two sinks. It was hard work scrubbing dad’s shirts. He worked in a foundry. Washing all done, dried and folded I pushed the pram home wearily.
Ethel Connor.

Every Saturday morning I had to take the washing, all of it, to the wash-house. The baby was in the pram, my three year old sister sat on top of the pram, the pillowcases full of washing were there too, one on top and one underneath. It seemed a long walk when I was nine. I took it every week till I was twelve. It wasn’t so much the washing, it was more the kids, though the baby wasn’t too bad. He slept a lot of the time. The whole escapade took three or four hours. The women talked to each other and laughed a lot in the wash-house, but not to me nor I to them. I don’t think we had much in common as I was a bit younger. All I really remember is the smell of the soap and the warmth, always lovely and warm in winter.
Jacqueline Goodwin.

My mother used to go to Barmouth Street Baths about three times a week with my old pram full of clothes and bedding. When I went with her I was told to sit on top of the washing to stop it from blowing away. The funniest thing that happened to me was when I was about seven. One day we met a friend of my mothers. She was wearing a fur coat. I said to my mother, “Why is your friend wearing that fur coat on a hot summers day?” My mother told me her friend’s summer coat was in with the washing, and the fur coat she was wearing was called a camel coat, so I said “Where’s the hump?”
Malcolm Rigby.

I went to the wash-house occasionally for my mam, when I was younger. I remember my mam was ill in hospital at the time. At first I used to meet my Aunt Lydia who showed me what I had to do. One time, I was at the sinks scrubbing away and the woman at the next sink started her scrubbing. She was very quick, obviously well practised. Before long I noticed my soap had disappeared. I felt around in the water for it but couldn’t find it. Then I noticed the woman at the next sink was using it.I was annoyed by this and took a few minutes wondering whatto do about it. I decided this woman was very cheeky ‘pinching’ my soap so very snootily I said to her,
“Excuse me that’s MY soap!” She looked amused and handed me my soap back with a mumbled “Sorry”. Then started searching her sink full of water for her soap.
When I look back on the incident I wonder how I had the cheek to be so bold. I was only about fifteen years old, a bit of a kid really!
Anne Pickering. (Nee Beatie)

The most useful thing we owned was our wash-house pram. Monday morning was my wash-house day. 9-30am was my booking time. I had machines 5&6. With two machines you got two sinks to wash your woollies in and two tumble dryers. Nobody had dirty clothes in Miles Platting. All the children looked spotless on Monday mornings going to school. I washed with the same gang every week. We had such laughs. At Christmas we took sherry and mince pies in. It was a great community spirit. I remember the day they took the drying racks out and put tumble dryers in. I had my picture taken in front of them. I wonder if the Town Hall still has the photos. I remember one day my friend’s
husband came in. He had left all his money in his jeans pockets. Harold the wash-house attendant had to stop the machine and bring his jeans out. We got all the money. Wet £1 notes, twenty of them! He’d told his wife he had no money so she hit him with the wet jeans. We all laughed when he went running out. They were good days at the wash-house. The only thing wrong with the place was the glass roof. On a hot summers day we all sweated cobs! Has anybody else got any stories of those days?
Doris O’Neill.

I lived in Miles Platting on Tripe Colony for fifty years. My mother and myself went to New Street wash-house weekly, my mother had to queue from 6am in order to get her ticket for a washer. She went for years and saw all the changes, from scrubs to electric washers, from racks to tumble dryers. I myself went for many years it was lovely coming home with the weeks wash all dried and ironed-but what I enjoyed was the sense of community, we would see familiar faces each week and have a good old natter..... (They were the good old days) Mrs. E Watson. (Nee Pendlebury)