Dreadful Conditions… Even Today

Down and Out in London and Paris by George Orwell (1933), was a wonderfully informative, horrifying and brilliant introduction to what kitchens during the depression era of Europe were like. The only thing it reminded me of, or that I would consider similar, was the work of stable hands in the horse racing industry (but even today they go through much the same hell in many stables, as they did during the last century). The book highlighted the constant abuse, by most senior staff, the rigour of the long hours, the very hard work and dreadful wages (yes, even today that hasn’t really changed for either industry). The suffering, by many working in those appalling conditions, whom, in most cases, did the job because they loved the subject (or the animals). It was the dreadful subsistence of the worker, for the pleasure of the wealthy (Yes, even that hasn’t changed). But this was a time, when any work was valued. For those who know their history, post war (WWI) and the conditions then in Europe were pretty dreadful. There was massive unemployment and the value of any currency was very low (just like today’s currency in Europe). The dreadful climate of the time which was affecting the growth of all crops, and the related illness’s, including, the post war Spanish flu pandemic which had killed some 50 million people in just 18 months. Yet if there was work, you took it, there was no welfare to allow people to sit around and take handouts. Even for a handout, they would have to queue for hours, and it may be only mothers, or only adult men permitted, waiting for hours in all conditions for a single meal (if they were lucky) or piece of a bread.
I could certainly relate to the conditions Orwell wrote about. Being from a large family, we were certainly aware of the cost of everyday living and the need to have a job and to do a job properly. One of my first jobs, apart from a newspaper run, holiday pet feeding jobs, or grocery packing job, when I was younger, was as a bottle washer and delivery boy, for a chemist shop. It involved soaking the glass pill bottles that had been brought back in for refills, to loosen the labels. Then after properly washing them clean, loading them into a warm air-drying cabinet. This part of the job wasn’t too interesting, and there were a couple of young chemists working on the same upstairs level making some product (?). I was always wandering over to talk to them (not what I was supposed to be doing). Then, when I was supposed to finish for the day, the chemist was getting me to ride out and do the home deliveries. Can you imagine that happening today? A twelve year old being given multiple orders of prescription drugs to ride around the surrounding suburbs on his bicycle, delivering the medicine to those needing it. Some nights after finishing, the delivery took an hour or two to finish (unpaid). And in Dunedin, it was often dark by the time I finished, in the winter months.
(continued tomorrow)