Feb. 2nd 1992
My dear son,
This is a little saga. Sitting here twiddling my thumbs I thought how nice it would be for you to know & to explain a lot of things that happen to us, so pin back your lugs. I should, as Alice said, start at the beginning, so here goes. I hope you won't be bored.
As you know I was the 12th child of thirteen, no contraception then, a woman's role was wife & mother, bed & kitchen & how woman like my mother worked, forever washing & cleaning, scrubbing, blackleading grates, doorsteps & window sills to the yellow or white stoned, & no modern gadgets, zinc bath in front of the fire, a boiler in the scullery with a coal fire underneath to heat the water, but we were even better than some others, we did have running cold water & our own lav., albeit at the bottom of the garden — jerry pots under the bed & Mother slopping out every morning & the trek to the midden, but cleanliness & respectability the order of the day. We knew nothing of the outside