I grew up in the era of Sunday baths. There were five kids in our family and there is no way each of us had a clean bath full of hot water so it must have been rather murky for the “last man in”. The baths were on Sunday so we were fresh for the new week. I don’t remember any smelly kids at school so presume we all smelt as bad as each other! After playtimes forty active kids had to create quite an odour, especially in summer.
Having a bath on Sundays didn’t mean we became grotty gradually, we were always playing outside and often in the dirt. One school morning I was all dressed ready for school when Mum noticed my dirty legs, they must have been beyond cleaning with a face washer because Mum made me stand in the washing machine. I have no idea why there would have been soapy water in it at that time of the day but there was.
The washing machine was a big, cylindrical tub on castors with a wringer attached. The wringer had two rollers which you could swing over the centre of the tub or back to the edge. There was a metal plate on the end that you hit to separate the rollers.
Mum never ever had what you would call, “lightness of touch” and even if she did have, dirty knees need a bit of scrubbing to clean, I suppose. As I stood in the soapy water her enthusiastic scrubbing caused me to overbalance and I dropped down into the soapy water. I was soaked and needed a complete change of clothes before I could leave for school but I guess my legs were clean!
You didn’t know that about Nana did you?