The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll, (the third hour of drowsy morning name). Shakespeare

There was a sound that carried straight to my room where I waited, in the house gone suddenly quiet, as the other members of the family industriously disappeared to the various remote tasks they could find, so as to remove themselves from any  involvement in what had occurred and what was to come. The sombre (but certainly more dreadful sounding to me), foot-falls of my father as he climbed the back steps, echoed on the concrete, solid and unyielding. The sound as dreadful and foreboding as a battle drum. That sound fell upon my ears, as the tolling of the bell before a battle (hence the reference to Henry the Fifth). He approached the back kitchen door. Passing the small laundry, in which sat the just as scarey standing wringer tub washing machine, with the hand mangling rollers.

Yes, several of us had lost a certain amount of skin off the back of our hands and received more than a few bruised fingers from the crushing hard rubber rollers, when trying to feed in the sheets or other wet washing. The rollers, once engaged with a flip of the small trigger handle, would crush the excessive water out of the material in preparation for hanging out on the Hills Hoist® washing line. The Hills Hoist® was a very clever Australian invention (hey, credit where credit is due). For those not familiar with the name or reading this in a country foreign to Australia or New Zealand. The Hills Hoist® is an outdoor four-armed multi-line, height adjustable rotating drying device – also made a great swing, so long as your parents didn’t see you. But could only handle children of a light weight as any children over 40kg (multiply that by four – one on each arm) tended to cause a slight downward deviation of the poles. Lets be honest, it was designed for washing of around 25kgs in weight, not 160kgs of children having a great time. The cause of such downward bending could quickly be diagnosed by any parent and recriminations always followed.

But that is sufficient attention to the drying side of washing. It was the terrifying, tissue eating rollers which caused the real pain when washing. (unless the rotating hoist pole caught you on the back of the head, which occasionally did happen). The rollers did not distinguish human flesh from fabric when engaging with their full pressure squeeze. It took at least two crushings to discover there was a quick release on the far side of the swivel roller arm. Usually on the side furthest away from where you were standing or just out of reach and angle to be able to release it. Besides, usually you were too busy trying to pull your hand out of the roller with your other hand, screaming in the meantime for help, before the rollers gathered in your entire hand, then arm, then shoulder… it was terrifying to get the hand caught.

(continued tomorrow).