I hated having my hair washed, and the jug of water pouring over my head making soap suds run into my eyes so they would sting,was a source of lament! Eventually I would learn how to hold my head face up so the water poured down my back instead. On becoming a teenager, it was my mum's turn to constantly tell me that "You wash your hair too often" and also "You shouldn't go out straightaway now you've washed your hair, you'll catch cold"! At what point we graduated to using the bath in the back bedroom I cannot remember, but here is a letter I wrote about it to the Rossendale Free Press, from Peter Fisher's archives. His sister Maureen kept them in a scrap book.
The last letter is one from our dad, and he is writing about his father-in-law Jimmy Westwell, who was known as "Jimmy Curly". Here is the transcript.
"East Street has featured in your columns recently.At number 12, there was a gas bracket in the wall in the attic for illumination.
When required, the arms were swivelled from the wall before the gas was lit. It glowed in an orangey-yellow arc.
My wife's father, Jimmy (Curly) Westwell, shouted from the attic one evening "Ethel! There's summat burning up here" She, (dad's wife) went to investigate. It was his own mop of hair that was singed. He was standing too near the fire .
Neither of them are with me now, but the memories linger on. "