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When the kitchen was also the bathroom.


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First flat we had (Ealing, above a ladies hairdressers, late '70s) was the other way round - the 'kitchen' (kitchenette, really) did not have a sink - you had to go do the washing up in the handbasin or bath in the bathroom.
 
Why did they use letters as well as numbers?

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Before STD it was normal to dial the Exchange and the Number of the person or organisation you wanted to talk to; and it was a lot quicker than dialling the Operator and waiting for someone to answer!

Imagine the effort to dial Whitehall 1212 which everyone knew was Scotland Yard!

Enjoy!
:hat:
 
If things carry on the way they are we may be seeing these scenes again.



Britain 1947: Poverty, queues, rationing - and resilience.
Women look happy to take home coal and coke after waiting in long queues.

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Remember when many of us wore hand knitted clothes.
The sales rush begins and eager housewives crowd around the counter in a Liverpool wool shop in 1968.
Image credit Corbis Press.

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Remember when many of us wore hand knitted clothes.
The sales rush begins and eager housewives crowd around the counter in a Liverpool wool shop in 1968.
Image credit Corbis Press.

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I once asked my Mam for a bag of rags so that I could get a goldfish like the kid next door. (*) Looking back, I was probably wearing most of the rags!

Back in the day it started as a skein of wool that youngsters held as Mam turned it into a ball. (My arms and shoulders ache at the memory of sitting there with the skein draped over my wrists!)

The ball of wool then became a sweater (which was pulled down when it was outgrown or holes appeared), then a pullover (ditto above), then a pair of socks (remember how cold those three knitting needles were when you tried them on for size?) or mittens, or gloves, or a scarf, or a hat? (I still hate Tam o’Shanter hats!)

Oh, let’s not forget that most holes were darned. Mam even included a Darning Needle and Mushroom in my Ditty Box when she packed me off to sea!

Happy Days!
:hat:

(*)
The Rag & Bone man didn’t have any goldfish left and gave me a thrupenny bit instead!

I didn’t agree ‘cos I knew I would never see the money again, but he just slammed the back doors of his van shut, said something like “Get used to it.” and drove off.

I handed the money over to my Mam (never to be seen again) and attempted to cut the Rag & Bone man’s head off the next time he came! Long story, probably a bit extreme for a nine year old and anyway, I failed!
:D
 
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