Name a chore....

Ooh yes, turning the mangle and being satisfied at the amount of water that got squeezed out. Chucking stuff out of the washer into the drier these days just doesn't have that sense of satisfaction

I got to clean the family silver in the summer holidays. I felt very important being allowed to do it and took pride in my work

Cleaning out the grate and resetting the fire was the dirtiest job but the job I hated most was having to sit with skeins of wool. I was a fidget and sitting still for that long was excruciating. Your arms ached. Shelling peas. Taking the pop bottles back. Then my mother died when I was 8 but my eldest sisters had the most difficult job of running the house. I remember that although we had a twin tub, I was once sent to the launderette with sheets and a glass jar of washing powder that fell out of the big plastic bag as I was crossing the busy main road. I was too frightened to go home thinking I would get smacked. I was only 7.

When my father remarried we didn't get any pocket money. So from the age of 11 I had a paper round 7 early mornings a week in all weathers. If I didn't get up immediately, my father would tip the mattress up so I fell on the floor. At 14 I still had the paper round but then got a job Saturday and sunday mornings in the 'sweet shop'. So I returned my bag and went straight behind the counter. I did that until I had to leave school at 15, and then left home just before my 16th birthday as it was awful at home. I went to evening classes to continue my education (my father forced me to leave even though he was called to the school and pleaded with to let me stay on). I ended up with a good career considering I slept rough for a short time aged 15 then went into a tiny bedsit for £5.75 p.w. and a meter that took shillings I didn't always have.

Reading the thread though I think I got off lightly. Some of the jobs grans had to do when very small were horrendous.

We don't appreciate how lucky we are in so many ways now with all our mod cons and yet I would go back tomorrow if I could as so many things have been spoilt. I think somehow we had more when we had less.

My children have had it easy really. Few chores to do. Maybe because of what I went through I've been soft on them. They've turned out well after a few 'blips' but my father would turn in his grave if he saw the dust in their rooms! He used to run his finger over the top of the doorframe if he saw you idling and god forbid he ever found any dust!

And it was always sunny back then wasn't it?????

Heavens, Saggi, I thought that I was badly done by, but you were slave-driven! Did you keep your wages, or were they absorbed into the housekeeping? I remember being very proud to contribute when I started work at 16. Half my wages to Mum, and the rest went mainly on bus fares and lunches at work. Many children contribute nothing when they start work these days.

Although times could be tough for children, in our day, it taught us life-skills and fortitude. I don't think, on the whole, that it did us much harm.

I remember holding skeins of wool while my Nan wound them in to big balls for knitting

Every Saturday morning sister and I had to go round most of the house dusting the sideboard etc and cleaning the mirrors. Hated this with a passion. One of us had the 'applying' duster and the other the 'buffer'. Obviously the applier had the best of the job so we took it in turns with much arguing as to who'd got the rough end of the wedge. Remember that lavender polish that came in a flat round tin? Eventually it was replaced with an aerosol. We had to take all the ornaments off - we weren't allowed to cheat and go round them. Then we got pocket money.
We didn't do elder brother's room as he was still in bed (he went to work) and younger brother wasn't asked. The latter would sometimes go on an errand to a shop (and got to keep the change) which gave him the life-long attitude of 'what's in it for me?'
Am I bitter and twisted? Not too much - but it gave me a life-long hatred of dusting.

From 11 year old I had a Saturday morning job. 4.30 rise and a walk (. 2 mile) to local dairy farm with ‘the milkman’ where we would load up the milk float( 400 pints ) and do our milk round . We would finish the round about 12 midday and he’d walk me home. Then my chores for mum began...sweep down the stairs with a stiff brush and sweep the carpet runner in the hallway and wash down paintwork at sides of stairs including banisters. Run to local shop to buy a piece of meat for Sunday lunch ( about 8/-)...beef or pork. Chicken I seem to remember was more expensive than these meats ..oddly. Then home to help mum with washing . Then ironed all school clothes for Monday ( 6 kids). Bite to eat and by 3 pm my time was my own and I was out playing in Street. If my mum ever caught me reading a book she would ‘find’ me something to do. I don’t blame her really ...she had six of us and three cleaning jobs for five days a week ....my sick granny to look after and a sick husband ( my dad) two years later. My childhood ended at 13. But it taught me self reliance...resilience... and fortitude in face of life’s crap!

I forgot one chore which I am ´sure no child does now: Tidying the waiting-room after the afternoon surgery and before the evening one, and after the morning one on Saturday. Daddy was a GP with his consulting-room and waiting room in our house. I also opened the front door at 6 p.m. on the dot to let the patients in.

Going to the shops from an early age, about 5 and 6 to buy the newspaper, a packet of woodbines and bread. I was also expected to wash or dry up the dishes after a meal and always from an early age make my bed.

Getting off track here: our Co-op didn't have a Lanson Pneumatic Carrying Cash System, but Cochrane's in Paisley did, and it absolutely fascinated me.

Same as you *MawBroon” the stairs every day and also the ironing. I had one brother a bit older and one a bit younger who had no chores and I resented that fact, particularly ironing their school shirts. I had to use an ironing press machine for the sheets, a big heavy thing which I was too little to lift on to the table and I hated the job. Hard work and so boring.

Oh yes, and turning the mangle for my Gran on wash days.

Going to the corner shop for my dad's 'quarter of coco nut mushrooms' when he came home from work (might have got a penny for me too !) and having to go to the other corner shop (we had three in our small road) to ask for 'a loaf of bread till Friday'......when my dad got paid and my mum would send me to pay the bill ! .oh and to the newsagent on Saturday early evening for the #Green Un' (the early football results newspaper !

jaylucy 50p a week!!!? How old are you? We never got any pocket money nor got paid for our chores. When my wealthy Uncle David visited us once (very rare) he gave me half a crown. My dad asked me "How much did Uncle David burp up for you then? " I told him and he nearly fell over.

I cleaned silver, brass and copper too, from about age six, washed up long before that, and remember washing Daddy's woollen socks in a basin of lukewarm water on wash-days when I was three or four. I think one of the grown-ups checked they were clean and all soap rinsed out.

Rolling newspapers for the fire, yup. My sister hated it, I didn't mind.

Made the beds at weekends and during school holidays since I was nine.

Collected eggs in the henhouse when we kept hens.

Surely, some children these days still do some of these tasks?

Nearly forgot - beating rugs on the washing line with a cane beater.

Mine was sweeping down the stairs with a hand brush and dustpan, using a duster for the uncarpeted sides.
That was my job too. As well as Brassoing the letterbox, numbers and big brass doorknow on the front door.

Rolling long thin paper 'spills' for my grandfather to light his pipe from the open fire.

Also blackleading the fire grate every Saturday morning. I loved seeing it shine.

I had a magical childhood, we lived in Fiji and had a house-girl who did all the chores and looked after us while our mother played mah-jong and bridge. We returned to the UK when I was eleven and lived with our grandparents where I loved to shell the peas, put the clothes through the mangle and help clean the brasses, it was all a wonderful novelty. Then my parents bought their first house when I was thirteen and mum went out to work, everything changed. Every Saturday my sister and I had to polish all the furniture, sweep and wash the linoleum floors, ewbank the carpeted sitting room, wash the front step and prepare the vegetables for the evening meal. Our father worked abroad and the garden became my responsibility, every Sunday mowing, hoeing and edging while my sister helped our mother with the baking. We were never given pocket money but all our needs were catered for if not our wants.

When I was very young I scrubbed the front doorstep for hours. When we moved to a different house I would wash the coal - it gave my mother some peace and quiet!

I think I was pretty lucky. That fetching the meat on Saturdays was the only chore I remember being given.

Oh gosh! What a lot of unsuitable jobs children used to do. I remember polishing silver and brass, helping wash up, using a floor polisher as we had wooden floors, not carpets as we lived in South Africa. My worst thing was having to look after my baby sister, nearly 10 years younger than I was. Giving her a bottle, rocking her in her pram until she went to sleep... When I complained, Mum said "Its your duty, you are older than she is."
Why was it my duty? I was just a kid, I was not responsible for her birth, was I?

But nannypiano, don't you remember - when the paper caught fire it used to get sucked the chimney. ?

I used to clean the brass ornaments with Brasso. My mum was no fool and also had me clean our money (coppers) with Brasso, and the sixpences with a similar silver cleaner. My brother and I loved how the coins shone. Of course it was just a way of keeping us occupied on a rainy day.

This has brought back so many memories! DH and I have just spent a very pleasant half hour reminiscing! My favourite chore was being sent by my grandmother to get half a pound of orange pekoe tea. I loved to see the assistant pour the loose tea onto a sheet of paper, make it into a package and tie it with string. And I remember the lovely smell of coffee in the shop.