The Irish Clothes Line

No one – and I really mean no one Irish – knows more about the importance of the washing line in culture and childhood. In Ireland, the rules and protocols are up there with the beloved immersion heater and fireplace.

 

Pass any row of Irish back gardens from the early twentieth century, even with the rise of apartment blocks (with front balconies) in the 1950s and daily you witnessed a sea of washing lines strung out with clothes to dry for the day.

 

They were, essentially, a host of lives exposed from early morning until sunset. There is quite no other symbol of putting your life, and the lives of your whole family on bare display.

 

Nosy neighbours, just on observation of the vista of clothes lines in the locale could extract fundamental details of family activities and behaviour.

 

Such examples of which might be – from neighbour to neighbour gossip over a garden wall:

 

‘’I see young Audrey at number 7 must be pissing the bed again during the night. Bed sheets out on the line for the 5^th day running! Jaysus, Mrs Murphy must be fed up with that one.’’

 

‘’And, number 43, your man- Mrs Brown’s husband, the brickie on the sites, must be pulling another long-term sickie from work. Haven’t seen his work overalls on the line for five weeks. Probably in the pub all day!’’

 

‘’I’ve said it before, Mary. I’ll say it again. That O’Toole one with the four kids, barely a year apart – too loose for my likin’ and she only three year married. And did ye see the frilly knickers on the line this mornin’? Five pair – black, red, purple and pink… Pink… mind you. Excuse us. What proper church-going family woman needs five pair for two days?’’

 

‘’Number 50, haven’t see a line out the garden in a week. Tumble dryer, I’d say. The likes of them, and in this street. Well for some to be affordin’ a tumble dryer and him only workin’ in a sweet shop. And well for some when me and Peter can barely afford the logs and coal for the fire of an evenin. Next, it ‘ill be a fuckin’ microwave.’’

 

‘’There he was in Dunne Stores, buyin’ pegs for the line, you know, for herself. Says I to him, plastic is it now? What’s the problem with a bit of wood peg for the line. Say he, oh, we’ve got one of those rotating-in-the-wind clothes lines – and says he, Linda thinks plastic coloured pegs are better. Says I, and does it make the fuckin’ breakfast, dinner and tea for ye as well, like Linda?’’

 

‘’So, I said to the Garda when he called to the house, makin’ enquiries. Nice young chap, from Donegal. I invited him in, as ye would, and we had a chat, a pot of tea and a half-pack of Garibaldi biscuits. I says to the Garda at the kitchen table, if Mrs Moore is missing nearly a week, no sight nor sound of her, then that Barney fella she’s shacked up with did away with her. Check the back garden. There’s been no washin’ or dryin’ in that house since last Tuesday. Mark my words. That’s not Mrs Moore’s way. She’d never miss a good dryin’ day, not with the weather over the past week.’’

 

‘’I watched her the whole time. I mean who hangs the whole washing out without the wipe of an oul cloth on the line? And them trees overhanging her garden and the birds shittin’ everywhere. I don’t know, some people!’’

 

‘’Three lines out. A whole week’s wash out. And the six of them inside watching Ben-Hur on the BBC of a Saturday afternoon. Lazy shits! I told them twice, it’s going to rain. Be fuckin’ ready for a military clothes line evacuation. Eldest and best skilled for the unpegging and youngest for the basket. Yiz had better be ready when I scream from the kitchen. 1 pm and the heavens opened. De ye think one of them would get up off their arses and lift a finger to give me a hand to get the washing in? Not-at-all. And the Laurence youngfella then starts moanin’ on Sunday because his football gear wasn’t dry for his match!’’

 

‘’So, the fella in the hardware says standard or rotary clothes line? I swear, Mar, I could have swung for him. My mam would turn over in her grave if she knew I went for rotary. She wouldn’t speak to me for three weeks when I switched from Percil to Johnsons washing powder.’’

 

‘’I said to George, I want those new pulley wheel lines. I’m fed up pickin’ clothes up off the grass because you stick a few nails up in the house wall to the garden wall and they come out after I put two blouses and three knickers up on the line. I let him go to work now in damp jeans!’’

 

‘’So, I says to her, it’s either a proper and traditional clothes line like me mam’s one and I’ll put it up tomorrow for you or an expensive tumble dryer we can’t afford. I laughed and went to the pub. Mind you, I learned that I’m going to the appliance shop today!’’