The Middy June 3 1999

Waste not, want not was the order of the day.

Spring cleaning involved turning out wardrobes and cupboards, re-lining drawers, washing paint work and curtains, removing and cleaning window blinds, beating carpets on the clothesline with a carpet beater and washing China ornaments in soapy water.

Ardingly villagers interviewed by historian Alex McLean bring the scene to life.

“Hudsons soap packet was used with soda – bits of household soap were saved and there was a gadget in the shape of a spoon with a wire cage at the end in which you put your soap and wafted it about in the water to make suds.

“All white washing was rinsed in water with a dolly blue that made it look whiter.”

No modern age were available.

Lux flakes dissolved in water were used to wash your hair.

Tuesday saw the remains of the joint minced and eaten hot with mashed potato.

On bath night hot water from the copper would be sloshed into a tin bath in front of the kitchen fire.

Shops closed half a day during the week and often at weekends but you could place your order with the local grocer and his boy would deliver by bike.

The more prosperous traders would keep a smart liveried horse and carriage for delivery to their customers and removal vans where the shape they are today but the engine power would be provided by up to 4 fine shires.

Were they the bad old days?

People told Alex McLean hardships included lack of money; oil lamps and candles to light the home; water from wells and lack of plumbing and sewage.

Food was plentiful but plain; homes were cold but your bed was warmed with hot bricks wrapped in a flannel.

If you wanted to go anywhere, you had to walk or catch a bus to the station.

There were no refuse collections; everything was burned, buried or composted.

In Wivelsfield, the village shop cooking tea deliveries in huge wooden chests and cheese in crates; the tea was weighed into quarter pounds and the cheese skinned and cut with a cheese wire to each customer is exact requirement.

Dried fruit delivered in bulk, sugar and rice and snacks and biscuits in tins were all weighed and wrapped before sale. Prices in the 1930s never varied.

The doctor held a weekly surgery at Wivelsfield post office. Patient queued in Thorps garden.

Local chemist Wilfred broadly collected prescriptions left at the shop, dispense them in Ditchling and returned them to Wivelsfield.

Two world wars insured housewives became expert at scrimping and saving.

Nothing was wasted, although kitchen gardens meant bread and meat rations could be supplemented with fresh vegetables.

Most folk tried to avoid the black market.

Posters graphically depicting the fate of merchant semen caught by enemy torpedoes acted as a stark reminder.

One grandmother – now living in Sussex – remembers how a local family used black-market petrol to escape hit-and-run raids on a Somerset coastal town in their car.

They were both killed by a direct hit: a vivid morality tale to pass on to the children.

Alex McLean says local folk acknowledge they are better off materially today although in the good old days they might have been poor they did not expect a lot.

Jobs were scarce in the 1920s and 30s which meant middle-class women– Not just the aristocracy – could afford to employ young girls for low wages.

During World War II Wivelsfield school took 29 evacuees from the south London area.

Doris Allwood took two brothers to the Old Cottage; the boys remember having a wonderful time and one brother came each Christmas to present a box of chocolates to her until she died.

After the war governments realised women would once again have to be pressed into the labour market to feed the employment needs of a growing economy.

Although families still curled up around the radio listening to Journey into Space or Uncle Mac’s children's requests on a Saturday morning by this time mum would probably have a part-time job.

This was made a little easier by the introduction of labour-saving devices like the twin tub washing machine and the vacuum cleaner.

Lucky families bought built-in kitchen units – as depicted on US imported sitcom shows like ‘I love Lucy’ – and stacked their 12 inch records on multi change record players.

Hassocks millionaire businessman Ray Horney’s career began when he rented washing machines to housewives from the back of a van; he charged 10s 6d a week for the privilege.

As car ownership increased and men increasingly relocated to find better jobs, many community ties broke down.

Mother no longer lived nearby so many working housewives found themselves needing to employ nannies or childminders; leading to a boom in domestic employment.

Today's nannies however expect their own car, bathroom and television and many do not expect to undertake routine cleaning.

Childcare has been elevated to professional status as working mums seek a safe, well qualified pair of hands to take care of their most precious possessions between school closing time at the end of the office day.

Cleaning itself is even more of a chore than it was 100 years ago; today's women find themselves washing clothes every day of the week, shopping at 3 am and driving children hundreds of miles to school.

The good old days can seem quite appealing to a Sussex mum of three on a dam February Monday morning when the car refuses to start.