THE
WASHING(WASHING POWDER)
What scandal for my mother, when one spoke to him(her), before 1914, certain Norman farms where the washing(washing powder) was made every three months !
" Keep(guard) of the dirty linen three months ! I keep(guard) him(it) one month, and it is already too much. If that was not such a duty, I would put myself in it every other week !... "
She(it) put itself it reluctantly Monday, to finish, if possible , on Wednesdays. It was at first necessary to fetch the dirty linen in the attic, where one suspended him(it) on a wire, every week so that it(he) is indeed in the dry and aerated well, between two attic windows which she(it) went(took) up to open every morning and so that she(it) closed carefully every evening. If the rain threatened during the day, she said to me: " That threatens ! Fast horsemanship to close attic windows. " And I went(took) up both floors by cursing the care that one took attic windows, attic, dirty linen.
So, on Mondays one lowered(went down) him(it) by armfuls to put dipping him(it) into both tubs which waited for him(it) in the buanderie. One had lit(switched on) the boiler one hour or two previously to have some very warm water, and my mother plunged the dirtiest linen into a tub, the least dirty in the other one to soap the collar and the wrists of shirts of my father, the cloths, the towels(briefcases), the underskirts, the masks - corsets, the handkerchiefs of Cholet so big with their small mauve and white stone floors. It was necessary to inspect everything, detail(room) by detail(room), to insist on spots, sometimes with a brush of couch grass, to obtain a water indeed mousseuse thanks to the big cube of household soap with which the smell soaked(filled) all the buanderie.
Then one waited for the next day by installing(settling) beforehand the vast cuvier on its high wooden stand. Quite at the bottom(really), one inclined "to transport("go too far") him(it) old sheet of very coarse linen kiss, surviving of distant bottom drawer of my paternel grandmother, which she(it) had even spun in the spinning wheel she(it). On this cloth(canvas) one paid(poured) a thick coat(layer) of wooden ash, that one as one collected in the big fireplace of the hurdy-gurdy house where one made(did) beautiful fits , in the evenings of the summer end, before the ritual move, every autumn, towards the new house, in about metres of the ancient(former). My mother spread(widened) then on the ash some branches of laurel which should perfume all the washing(washing powder). Then, she(it) folded up the edges of go too far to cover the whole.
The next day, the well dipped linen crossed(spent) tubs in the cuvier in floors scrupulously superimposed. When everything was piled well, covered with the another coarse linen, the water of the boiling and smoking boiler, one began the washing(washing powder) for check. Armed(equipped) with the versoir with length sleeve, my mother spread the boiling water on the linen, by spraying this one regularly, indefatigably. The vapor filled the buanderie. Under the boiler, the center sparkled thanks to the falls of very dry wood come from the workshop(studio) of my father. Bit by bit, the smell of ash and laurel perfumed all the buanderie. A wooden faucet " the cinnamon " opened at the foot of the cuvier, the water poured slowly into a bucket, having crossed the sédimentation thick of the linen. One knocked down then in the boiler the water of washing(washing powder) so collected ambrée and one waited for a moment which was again boiling to begin again the operation with the versoir, my mother sat down on a campstool, next to the cuvier, to repair socks or cloths, because she never lost of time. The evening, tired, she(it) fell asleep at table by sighing : " Oh ! This washing(washing powder) ! How I would give big person(main part) to be freed(cleared) of it! "
The next day, washerwoman arrived. Washerwoman, it was " the mother Augustine " , one specialist known well in all the village, and who went from house to house to earn the keep in knocks of battledore. She(it) was ugly as the seven major sins as it was said gladly, but honest and hard in the job. One day she had declared, about the another laideronne of the village : " We, one is not beautiful, beautiful, but at least, one is passable whereas she(it) … " One made(did) for a long time warm gorges(breasts) on this reflection.
The mother Augustine loaded(charged) so the linen in a tub and the tub on the wheelbarrow, that one invited the clerk to go down(fall) to the Seine, while she even concerned the other one " her(it) limps to wash " filled(performed) with straw, " the stand " and the battledore.
In ten minutes one was " at the edge of the water ", having lowered(gone down) " the rib(coast) to Vitaline ". Vitaline it was the farmer to whom every evening, I fetched the liter of milk for which it was necessary me to wait in the entrance(entry) of the cowshed, because she(it) had never stopped milking, and " the house Vitaline " was the last one before arriving at the Seine.
At the edge of the clear water, because, at that time, the water of the Seine was clear, the mother Augustine rested(posed) his(its,her) limps, both forelegs propped up well in the water the back in the dry, and in front of her(it) limps, four feet in the water, slightly tilted towards(as for) the river, " the low stand ", the wood of which quite cleared by so many washings(washing powders), had become smooth and satiny. Then she(it) knelt down in the straw and began to throw(launch) in the river big sheets that it was necessary to rinse there upholder of a firm hand, may return in plug on the stand and beat in knocks doubled with the battledore which made take out the washing(washing powder) which the current pulled(entailed).
Begun again several times, the operation eventually given a white and net linen, dripping with clear water. My mother took care then, at the house, to cross(spend) him(it) in the blue, in a big tub of appropriate(clean) water where she melted a ball of blue of ultramarine bought at the grocer of the village.
The summer, at the edge of the Seine, it was almost a pleasure to rinse the linen, safe when the sun typed hard and when arms became quite red and ardent. The head could protect itself with the big, straw hat kiss and rustic, but arms nothing to make(do). They roasted painfully, because at that time, there was no ambre solar energy, and the passion of the bronzing(suntan) was still unknown.
The winter regrettably ! One caught the onglée, in spite of the warm water of the tub. And then the winter, the Seine was "high" . Barges and tug boats passed on the right bank, that of the washerwomen of Pressagny, and the skippers enjoyed calling them: " Ohé ! Moorhens ! You save! ". It(he) arranged(settled) indeed to get closer to the bank in sort which big waves threatened to take linen and washerwomen who put off rashly all their material by offending them in full throat(breast) : " Heap of good-for-nothings ! Bandits' band(strip) ! ". The more they got indignant, the more the skippers laughed. The past barges, it(him) fallais to reinstall everything and to begin again jusqu ' in the next alert.
All morning long, one heard(understood) the noise of battledores, and when luckily, two or three washerwomen worked together, the languages went good train between two knocks of battledore. But it was necessary to finish, go back up(raise) the linen wet in the wheelbarrow, by starting again " the rib(coast) to Vitaline ". When the clerk was free one sent to look him(her,it) for Augustine and her wheelbarrow, little before noon. My maternal grandmother said to us then : " She(it) is very lucky! Of my time, it was harder than that, because, on the tray(plateau), one had only puddles. Not means to rinse the linen in the water of the puddle. Needed to lower(go down) in the valley in three kilometres, and to go back up(raise) the linen wet on the back in a basket. That it was hard, but ten minutes, with a wheelbarrow, it is nothing more. "
This(they) was better indeed still when, between both wars, my father imagined himself to make a washer. Where had it(he) suspected the idea ? I know about it nothing. However it was the first washer of the village. She(it) was wooden, and made(done) as a sort of big drum, filled(performed) with linen and with water of chemical washing(washing powder), turned on her(its) axis. It was enough to activate(sue) a crank. My mother was then able to to sit down and even to read her newspaper, while turning this crank. What progress ! One came from all the village to see her(it) making(doing) the washing(washing powder) … Sat(based) ! One was amazed.
And the ingenuity of my father was famous around, because it(he) had also imagined, in the kitchen an installation which allowed to my mother to do the dishes .assise !
Nevertheless it was the washings(washing powders) which hastened the end. The buanderie was the realm of drafts. Taken the winter enters the heat loosened(kicked away) by the boiler and the cold outside, my mother had contracted a chronic, degenerating bronchitis every winter in congestion of the lungs. Every time it was necessary to call the doctor, this one declared : " naturally, it is another continuation(suite) of washing(washing powder) ! " And my mother answered ! " But doctor, it is necessary that washing(washing powder) is made ! Moreover one washerwoman would not know how to use the machine. "
The doctor protested in vain. And my mother who lived until eighty-six years, would have probably become hundred-years-old if there had been no washing(washing powder).
Etiennette Parmentier
Citizen of Pressagny's honor the Arrogant.