Miranda the mention of your hi-rise washing line took me straight back to my childhood.
In our back garden the line was, I suppose at about head height for an adult, and stretched away from a little pulley high up on the wall of the the house to a pole just in front of the back fence. Below the line, on the ground, a path of neat square stepping stones were spaced along the full length, so feet didn’t get grassy or muddy even after wet weather. But what I was immediately reminded of was the pole that shot the washing skywards!
It was a square section, finely moulded at the corners and split into two along its length, the two halves being loosely held together by, I think two, wide flat metal straps. Along much of its length, at precisely spaced intervals, neat circular holes had been pierced, and at the top of one half a round peg, about two inches long, was attached with a little chain. The top of the other section had a V notch cut out of it, with a smooth curve to the base of the V.
When the washing was all pegged out on the line, the pole was taken to a point half way along the libe, and the V notch was poked upwards so the line settled in the curved base, then that section was pushed upwards against the other section, until a suitable height and a marrying of adjacent holes was achieved, at which point the peg was pushed through the holes from one side to the other, to ensure the pole maintained its new height, and the base of the pole, now at a rakish angle, would be stuck lightly but firmly into the lawn.
On very windy days the pole would swing with its base acting as a hinge, but mostly the washing would just blow freely above our heads, the sheets being my particular favourites as they puffed up like giant sails.
I don’t have the luxury of an outdoor washing line now, I don’t have the space, and I hadn’t realised until this very moment just how much I miss that high joyous and free flapping of clean bedding in a cool seaside breeze.
Hanging out your washing on the line in winter remembered me when I was a child my grandmother hanged out the wash even when it was freezing cold and so when I came from school the first thing I did was going out and ‘treated’ the frozen laundry as I loved the feeling and the ‘cracking sound’ haha so weird but I really enjoyed such a small pleasure , and today …as the heatwave is far gone and the Belgian weather is back I was superfluous and hanged out my sheets for drying , yes ‘drying’ but it seems the ‘weahtergods’ are not at all kind to me and it started raining cats and dogs , shall I wait till it is over hmm or shall I go out and get wet myslef to put them in the dryer ?
Thanks for making me chuckle. I hope you enjoyed that naughty cuppa and can wind down after such a busy day!
Miranda the mention of your hi-rise washing line took me straight back to my childhood.
In our back garden the line was, I suppose at about head height for an adult, and stretched away from a little pulley high up on the wall of the the house to a pole just in front of the back fence. Below the line, on the ground, a path of neat square stepping stones were spaced along the full length, so feet didn’t get grassy or muddy even after wet weather. But what I was immediately reminded of was the pole that shot the washing skywards!
It was a square section, finely moulded at the corners and split into two along its length, the two halves being loosely held together by, I think two, wide flat metal straps. Along much of its length, at precisely spaced intervals, neat circular holes had been pierced, and at the top of one half a round peg, about two inches long, was attached with a little chain. The top of the other section had a V notch cut out of it, with a smooth curve to the base of the V.
When the washing was all pegged out on the line, the pole was taken to a point half way along the libe, and the V notch was poked upwards so the line settled in the curved base, then that section was pushed upwards against the other section, until a suitable height and a marrying of adjacent holes was achieved, at which point the peg was pushed through the holes from one side to the other, to ensure the pole maintained its new height, and the base of the pole, now at a rakish angle, would be stuck lightly but firmly into the lawn.
On very windy days the pole would swing with its base acting as a hinge, but mostly the washing would just blow freely above our heads, the sheets being my particular favourites as they puffed up like giant sails.
I don’t have the luxury of an outdoor washing line now, I don’t have the space, and I hadn’t realised until this very moment just how much I miss that high joyous and free flapping of clean bedding in a cool seaside breeze.
Hanging out your washing on the line in winter remembered me when I was a child my grandmother hanged out the wash even when it was freezing cold and so when I came from school the first thing I did was going out and ‘treated’ the frozen laundry as I loved the feeling and the ‘cracking sound’ haha so weird but I really enjoyed such a small pleasure , and today …as the heatwave is far gone and the Belgian weather is back I was superfluous and hanged out my sheets for drying , yes ‘drying’ but it seems the ‘weahtergods’ are not at all kind to me and it started raining cats and dogs , shall I wait till it is over hmm or shall I go out and get wet myslef to put them in the dryer ?