Tag Archives: v.m.sang

Goldilocks Reimagined: A Darker Story Unfolds

I have been writing a few stories based on fairy tales. I’ve completed two. They aren’t exactly retellings, but stories inspired by them.

I thought you might like to read one of them. It’s too long for a single post, so I’m serialising it. I hope you enjoy it.

This story is inspired by the Tale of Goldilocks and the three bears.

But first, a brief reminder of the story.

You will remember that Goldilocks was walking in the forest and entered a cottage.

It belonged to three bears, mother, father and baby. She tried all their chairs, and only baby bear’s fit. She ate their porridge, but one was too hot, one too sweet and the last just right. She went upstairs and tried their beds. One too hard, one too soft and baby’s just right. Here she fell asleep.

When the bears came home, they found someone had been sitting in their chairs and eating their porridge. When they went upstairs, they found Goldilocks asleep in baby bear’s bed.

In the story, Goldilocks jumped out of the window, landed on a passing hay cart and was taken home.

Image created with Bing Image Creator

I’ve set the story inspired by this fairy tale in Victorian England.

Now read on.

The little girl woke as a loud voice called, “Come on, you lazy bunch of layabouts. Time to be working.”

She struggled to a sitting position stiff from sleeping on a thin mattress on the floor.

A lad of about twelve thrust a piece of stale bread into her hand. “Get your water from yon bucket.” He passed on to the next child.

Yesterday, a woman who called herself Annie, brought her here, but where ‘here’ was, she had no idea. Annie found her crying and shivering in the street. She had been nice to her, told her she would take her somewhere where she would have a roof over her head and something to eat.

There were five other mattresses on the floor, and children were slowly getting up from them. The boy with the bread was handing a slice to each child.

She took a bite from her slice. It was hard and tasted slightly mouldy, but she was hungry, so she swallowed it. She rose and wandered to the bucket. There were some chipped cups next to it and she dipped one to fill it, gulping the drink down.

She gazed around the room. The ceiling sloped and had wooden beams. The floor was bare wood and apart from the mattresses, there was nothing else.

The man who had shouted at the children stood next to a door. He pointed at the little girl. “You. Come here. What’s your name?”

She looked around to make sure it was her the man was talking to, then tiptoed towards him.” M-m-my n-n-na…” She burst into tears.

“Stop that.” The man scowled. “I’m Mr Smith. You will call me ‘Sir’. Got that? If you can’t tell me your name, I’ll call you Goldie. Now Goldie, how old are you? Do you know? You look about five.”

Goldie nodded.

Mr Smith looked down his long nose. “When Annie found you on the street yesterday, you were alone. Do you have any family?”

Goldie shook her head, still snuffling.

Mr Smith nodded and smiled. He looked at Goldie out of the corner of his eye. ” I’m going to help you, Goldie, and you’ll help me. You’ll get shelter and food from me, and in return you’ll work for me.”

The door opened at that moment and a woman entered. “Oh, I see you have a new child.”

She strolled up to Goldie and lifted a lock of her hair. “What a lovely colour. Like spun gold. She’ll make a good candidate as one of my girls.”

“Not until she’s much older, Mary.” Mr Smith laughed. “Undesirable as many of your clients are, I don’t think babies are on their list.”

Mary shook her head, smiling. “You’d be surprised what some of my clients want. I can supply most things, but even I draw the line at very young children.”

“Most noble of you. But you aren’t getting Goldie. She’s much too valuable to me.”

“Begging? Yes, I can see such a pretty child would make the punters feel guilty and then they’ll give more.” She gave a short laugh. “But bear me in mind when she gets old enough to join my establishment.”

“What do you want? You wouldn’t come up here for nothing.”

“Oh, I heard about your new acquisition and wanted to see if she is as pretty as rumour has it.”

Mr Smith shook his head. “Annie only found her yesterday, and already everyone knows about her.”

“Well, you know what it’s like round here. I’m off now I’ve seen her. Remember me when she’s grown up enough.” She flitted through the door, leaving Mr Smith scowling.

He turned to Goldie. “You’re to go with Jack. He’ll teach you what to do. Now get out of my sight.”

A boy of about ten with scruffy dark hair stood and came across to her. “I’m Jack.” He pulled Goldie towards the door as Mr Smith reached for a cane standing next to the bucket of water.

“Come over here, Peter,” she heard him say. He swished the cane, and it made a buzzing sound as it passed through the air. “I’ll teach you to keep money back. You need to hand over all you get.”

A snuffling boy of about eight years old dragged his feet as he walked across the room.

To be continued.

Did you enjoy this? Comments in the comments box, please.

Would you like to read more of my writing? You can buy any of my books by clicking on the cover in the side bar. It will take you to a page where you can buy from your favourite online store.

Horselords: Kimi and Davrael’s Romance Unveiled

Another novella in my Wolves of Vimar prequels. This one is number 4, and is called Horselords. It tells of how Kimi and Davrael met.

It went for editing, but the next thing I knew, I heard that it was being formatted. I can only assume that the edit went well and there was nothing untoward found. That’s amazing, but I must thank the people on Scribophile who helped by critiquing it.

I accepted the formatting, and today received the suggested blurb and cover.

I rejected both!

The blurb mentioned nothing about the romance between Davrael and Kimi and the difficulties they had. This is mainly what the book is about so it should be in the blurb.

The cover showed a girl looking much younger than Kimi, who is 16 at the beginning. Her clothing is wrong, not what she would have worn, and the horse isn’t the piebald Kimi rides. So I can’t actually show you anything.

Apologies for that, but as soon as I get something suitable, you will be the first to see it.

I have a review to post, but I wanted to tell you where we are with the publishing.

We Will Remember Them: Reflecting on WW1’s Legacy

Today is Armistice Day. World War 1 ended at 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month.

I wrote a poem to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the end of WW1. I’ve published it before on Dragons Rule OK, and make no apologies for re-publishing it now.

For those of you who haven’t seen it before, I hope you enjoy it and that it makes you think of the futility of war. And to those of you who remember it, similarly.

War is evil and should never happen. It’s always a result of greed and/or hatred; two emotions that should be relegated to the deepest depths of Hell. And as all wars end in talks, why not begin there?

Here’s my poem.

We Will Remember Them.

I’ll never truly understand
How World War I began.
The death of Archduke Ferdinand
Started the deaths of many more,
The young, the old, the rich, the poor.
All died with guns in hand.

    My Grandad went with Uncle Jim 
    And Our Poor Willie, too.
    They sent them off, singing a hymn.
    Grandad went to Gallipoli,
    Uncle Jim left his love, Polly.
    Gas in trenches did kill him.

    I cannot see, in my mind’s eye
    Grandad with gun in hand.
    A peaceful man, sent out to die.
    He fought for us, for you and me
    So we can live and so that we
    Safely in our beds may lie.

    Granddad came home, and Willie too,
    But millions more did not.
    Their duty they all had to do.
    They died in fear, in noise, in blood.
    Everything was caked in mud.
    Yet in those fields the poppies grew.

    The War to end all wars, they said,
    So terrible were the deaths.
    The youth of Europe all lay dead.
    Yet 21 short years to come
    Another war. Once more a gun
    In young men’s hands brought death.

    One hundred years have passed since then.
    What have we learned? Not much!
    Too many men are killing men. 
    Wars still abound around the world.
    Bombs and missiles still are hurled
    At those who disagree with them.

    Uncle Jim was my Grandfather’s brother. I never knew him as I wasn’t born when he died.

    ‘Our poor Willie’ was what my grandmother said when referring to her brother. No one ever knew why he was ‘Our poor Willie’, except that she didn’t get on with his wife and thought she made his life difficult.

    I hope you enjoyed my poem. I wish I thought it might make a difference to the terrible wars going on at the moment, but I’m just a teeny drop in a vast ocean. Sadly, my voice is only heard by a very few people.

    Please let me know what you think in the comments box.

    You can read more of my poetry by clicking on the cover in the side bar. This one comes from Miscellaneous Thoughts.

    Behind the Scenes of Horselords: Final Edits and Cover Design

    I received the edited copy of Horselords on Sunday. I’ve now sent the final copy back to my publisher. The next step is the formatting and cover.

    This is the fourth of the prequels to my Wolves of Vimar series. This novella follows the story of Davrael and Kimi, telling how they met and the problems their love put them through.

    So far, I’ve told of how Carthinal’s parents met (Jovinda and Noli), how Carthinal came to become a mage (The Making of a Mage), and the early life of Asphodel (Dreams of an Elf Maid).

    Hopefully it won’t be too long now before I can share the cover with you.

    Celebrating Halloween with Poetic Fun

    Image by ApplesPC from Pixabay

    As it’s Halloween today, I thought I’d write a little poem to celebrate it. We don’t do as much for Halloween in the U.K. as the people of the US do, but it’s beginning to creep in here. This year I’ve noticed a few people have decorated their houses.

    Halloween

    Witches gather their broomsticks
    Putting on pointy hats.
    Devils creep out from hell
    As spiders build their webs.
    Ghosts walk the streets
    And skeletons leave their graves
    Jack O’Lanterns grin
    With fiery eyes that glow   

    A cold wind blows the leaves
    As we shiver in our homes.
    The darkness seems to creep
    Beneath the gap below the door.
    Ghostly sounds are heard.
    And the doorbell rings
    We huddle together in fear.
    What horrors await outside?

    We creep towards the door
    And open it with care.
    The ghosts and skeletons jump
    Towards us with a screech.
    The witches cackle loudly,
    Jack O’Lantern held up high.
    Then come the words we know


    Image by Nisse Andersson from Pixabay

    This is a new poem, but if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. simply click on the image in the side bar.

    Currently, Next Chapter, my publisher, has discounts for people who buy 2 or more books in a series from Google Play Store

    • 2 books: 20% discount
    • 3 books: 30% discount
    • 4 or more books: 40% discount

    No coupon code is needed for these discounts: all customers who find Next Chapter books in the Google Play Store are able to use these discounts (as long as they buy 2 or more books in any one series at the same time).

    Here’s a link to my One Poem a Day series if you are interested.

    Woodland Inspiration: A Free Verse Poem

    Rebecca Cunningham has challenged us to write a poem about a favourite place with alliteration.

    It is to be free verse and no more than 50 words. So here’s my offering.

    Woodland ways
    Wend past flowers.
    Winding paths walked
    Without worry.
    Wind whispers to willows
    Waving branches.
    White wood anemones 
    Water at the heart of the wood
    With wavelets kissing the shore.
    Woodpecker, willow warbler
    Wing through trees.
    Wonderful. 

    And here’s a link to Rebecca’s website so you can view the other poems.

    Click here

    The Battle of Hastings: New Theories on the Site

    King Harold engaged in two battles in Northumbria. He was defeated in the first, but triumphed in the second, which occurred five days later, resulting in the deaths of the opposing leaders, his brother Tostig and Harald Hardrada, the King of Norway.

    Harold learned that Duke William of Normandy had embarked on an invasion of England to lay claim to the throne.

    William’s landing occurred on September 28th near Pevensey, at a location now called Norman’s Bay. His initial plan was to invade in August, but due to unfavourable weather conditions, he postponed it until September.

    On landing, William established his camp within the ancient Roman fortification at Pevensey, from where he marched towards Hastings, ten miles away. Once in Hastings, he built a wooden castle from pre-fabricated parts brought with him. (Was this the first flat-pack?) 🙂

    Meanwhile, Harold became aware of William’s invasion fleet during his southward march. Although he had left part of his forces in the north, he gathered additional troops en route to London, where he paused to muster more soldiers. From London, he made his way towards the south coast.

    Most believe that the encounter between Harold and William occurred not at Hastings, for which the battle is named, but at Senlac Hill, which is now the town of Battle. Nevertheless, I have come across recent claims suggesting an alternative location for the battlefield.

    Archeological investigations at Battle Abbey, which is said to be built on the site of the battlefield, apparently show no indications of a battle taking place there. Medievalists.net cites a paper, “Heathfield Down: An Alternative Location for the Battlefield of Hastings, 1066,” by Rebecca Welshman and Simon Coleman. This paper suggests that the battle might have taken place at a place called Heathfield Down. (I also came across something that stated that this place is also known locally as Slaughter Common.)

    Also, on Medievalists.net I read this:

    “Welshman and Coleman also find importance in a passage from the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (D text), which explains that “com him togenes æt þære haran apuldran, and Wyllelm him com ongean on unwær, ær þis folc gefylced wære.” (“[Harold] came against him [William] at the grey apple tree. And William came upon him by surprise before his people were marshalled”). They believe that the English forces would have gathered at this apple tree because it was a significant landmark. There was such a ‘hoar apple tree’ in Heathfield that served as a boundary marker.”

    If you go on to read the article, you will find an interesting map to show how the coastline has changed since 1066, and a section on how the weather would have impacted the battle if it took place on Senlac Hill.

    In my current WIP, Wrath of an Anglo Saxon, I haven’t bothered too much about the situation of the battle, but more about the battle itself and the aftermath. This battle had a huge impact on life in England and is considered the beginning of the feudal system, whereby there is a strict hierarchy with the king at the top. and the peasants, or villeins as they are sometimes called, at the bottom. (This is where we get our word ‘villain’ from, although now it had become perjorative in its use.)

    Here is an extract from the work g. Please bear in mind that this is certainly not the finished version, but only the first draft.

    Durstan has been knocked unconscious during the battle. When he regains consciousness, he makes his way to where the defeated Anglo Saxon troops have gathered. After being treated for a head wound, he sleeps.

    Durston opened his eyes, only to close them again quickly. 

    Who made the sun so bright?

    Gradually, he tried a tiny sliver. Not too bad. He parted his eyelids a bit more until they were fully open.

    He reached to his head and let his fingers probe his injury.

    It hurt, but like a bruise. It didn’t feel as if anything inside was damaged. He struggled to his feet. A bit of dizziness, but the trees were standing still now. He glanced at the sky. Still quite early. 

    He ambled towards where he met Earl Edwin yesterday. There was a lot of activity. A few more men had arrived, and as he watched, two more straggled in. Some of the men were seriously injured, and Earl Edwin ordered them to be carried to the healers. 

    Durston approached the earl. “My Lord, I am much recovered. I would like to gather those of my followers who survive and join with any counter attack.”

    Earl Edwin turned to him. “Ah! Theign Durston.” He turned to a tall dark-haired man standing next to him. “Theign Durston was injured in the battle. I sent him to the healers. A blow on the head, it seems.”

    “Well met, Theign Durston. I am Earl Morcar.”

    Two men rushed up to the two earls carrying a man between them. They set him on the ground and bowed to the earls.

    One of them panted, hands on knees. “My Lords, we found the king’s body and brought it here.”

    Earl Edwin glanced at the corpse on the ground before him. “This man is not dressed like the king. He is dressed as one of the ordinary fighters.”

    “When we found him, sir, he was dressed as a king should be, with the crowned helmet.”

    Earl Edwin glared at the two men. “Then where is it now? Have you stolen it? Is it hidden for you to collect later and sell to the Bastard?”

    The second man looked stricken. “No, my Lord. We wouldn’t betray our country.” He turned to his companion. “Tell him, Cenric.”

    “We was searching for any survivors, my Lord, when we saw the king. We knew him by his helmet, see. I’ve never seen the king, so that was how we knew it were him.” He coughed. “He were obviously dead, but we knew we should bring him back here.”

    His friend nodded. “But there were a lot of the enemy looking for their survivors, so we thought,’What if they catch us wi’ the king?’ We spotted a body close by. Been shot with an arrow right through his eye, he had.” He shook his head. “Poor bastard. Must have been a painful way to go.”

    Cenric continued. “We took his armour and clothes and swapped them with the king’s, so no one would know that the body we had was King Harold.”

    Earl Edwin knelt next to the body. “He’s pretty cut up.” He peered into the face and looked up to Earl Morcar “It’s Harold, alright. I knew him quite well.” He turned to the two men. “Well done. You will be rewarded. Go and find some rest while we decide what to do with him.”

    Durston staggered. His head still hurt and standing listening to the two men and the earls had made him dizzy.

    Earl Edwin turned to him. “You need to go home, Durston. We’re planning a retaliation to take our country back, but I don’t think you are fit to join us.”

    Durston’s heart sank. His stomach felt filled with lead. He wanted to fight; to help kill William the Bastard and to see young Edgar Aethling on the throne. His feet dragged as he made his way back to where the injured were being tended.

    Plonking onto a log, he sank his head into his hands. 

    Someone spoke. “Are you unwell, my Lord?”

    He glanced through his fingers. It was Hrodgar, one of his loyal followers. He lowered his hands. “I’ve just been told I can’t help in resisting this takeover.”

    “With all due respect, Lord Durston, I think the earls are correct. You were unconscious for a long time, I heard, and are still suffering the effects.”

    Durston shook his head and immediately regretted it. Pain shot through his brain.  He sighed. “I suppose you are right. I would be a hindrance, not a help.”

    Hrodgar went away and returned shortly with a flagon of ale. Durston drank gratefully and stood. The dizziness had gone. “How many of our men survived? Do you know?”

    “Only about four or five, I think.”

    Durston groaned. All those others dead. They had families, too. 

    “Lord Durston.” A voice sounded through his thoughts. 

    A young man approached. Durston has seen him with the earls.

    “Earl Edwin wants to see you, my Lord.”

    Durston followed the young man to where he had been talking to the earl.

    “I have a job for you, Durston,” the earl said. “We must take the king’s body away from here. There’s no saying what those Norman’s would do with it if they found it.” He pulled at his beard. “Since you have been injured in the fighting, I would like you and a few of the less seriously injured, to take the king’s body to Waltham Abbey.  It was a place close to his heart. The king can be buried there with the correct ceremonies.”

    Durston felt his heart sink once more. He was being sent away. Away from the defence of his homeland.

    It will be a while before this book is published, but I’ll keep you informed as to its progress.

    If you enjoyed this brief extract and would like to read more of my work, you can click on the book cover in the side bar to take you to the online retailer of your choice.

    I wonder how correct the new ideas about the battle site are? What do you think?

    Review of The Mystery at Folly’s End by Jaye Marie

    I don’t usually post two reviews in consecutive weeks, but this time I’m going to do so.

    OVERVIEW

    A well written mystery.

    STORY

    Charlie is surprised and shocked when her sister, Angie, rings her to ask for help. The two have been estranged for years after Angie married the love of Charlie’s life.

    Angie says Tom is dead, and that she has lost all memory of the last few months. She can’t cope.

    Against her better judgement, Charlie goes to help her sister, only to find chaos. There is no body and no money. What has happened to Tom?

    Tom and his partner, Stuart, had been renovating a hotel, the Folly’s End of the title, so there should be money. But when a body is found in the cellar, everything turns upside down.

    BLURB

    Two estranged sisters, a dead husband, a mysterious hotel and a ghost?

    Charlie’s sister Angela is not her favourite person after deliberately stealing the love of her life.

    Years later, Angel’s husband dies mysteriously, leaving her with two children and no money. She begs her big sister to help her.

    Can Charlie find it in her heart to forgive her sister, or will old feelings destroy any chance of a reunion?

    Can they work together to solve their problems, or would that be asking for the impossible?

    CHARACTERS

    Jaye Marie has created a cast of wonderfully complex characters from the sensible Charlie to the unpredictable Angie.

    We see Charlie’s growing confusion as the mystery of Tom’s disappearance escalates, and at her growing feelings for Stuart, Tom’s partner.

    We watch Angie as her moods swing from anger, to sarcasm to happiness seemingly at random.

    Angie has two young daughters who are confused and frightened by a situation they can’t understand.And Stuart, as well as Angie, is hiding secrets.

    WRITING

    I cannot fault the writing. Jaye Marie writes clearly and well. I found no typos, spelling or grammatical errors.The scenes are set well and I could easily visualise the hotel, although I would have liked a little more description of Bognor Regis and Angie’s home.

    If there was a downside to this story it was that I guessed what was really going on fairly early. Also, we didn’t learn what exactly happened to Tom, Stuart, and Angie before the mystery, nor why.

    I gave it 4*

    In order to get a particular number of stars, it is not necessary to meet all the criteria. This is a guide only.

    5* Exceptional. Wonderful story. Setting well drawn, and characters believable–not perfect, but with flaws. Will keep you up all night. No typos or grammatical errors.

    4* A thoroughly enjoyable read. Great and original story. Believable setting and characters. Very few grammatical errors or typos.

    3* I enjoyed it. Good story. Characters need some development. Some typos or grammatical errors.

    2* Not for me. Story not very strong. Unbelievable and flat characters. Setting not clearly defined. Many typos or grammatical errors.

    1* I hated it. Story almost non-existent. Setting poor. Possibly couldn’t finish it.

    I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU. HAVE YU READ ANY OTHER OF JAYE MARIE’S BOOKS?

    If you want to purchase any of my books, simply click on the cover in the sidebar and it will take you to where you can purchase from your favourite online store.

    Review of Devilfire Book 1 of American Hauntings by Simone Baudelaire

    Overview.

    This exciting paranormal romance is set in Texas in 1886. Quite a page turner. There is some explicit sex, but not too much. 

    I am pleased to see that it is book 1. That means I can spend more time with these characters, and see how they continue their development, and if Gavin can come to terms with his own unacknowledged talent.

    Although I don’t usually enjoy graphic sex scenes, there wasn’t too much in this book and it didn’t bother me. What I can’t stand is what seems to be a story simply to carry the sex scenes.

    And I love the cover.

    It is an excellent read.

    Blurb

    Texas, 1885

    In the aftermath of a deadly fire, Dr. Gavin Morris, on hand to render aid to the few survivors, runs into someone he does not expect. Medium Annabelle Smith has arrived to help the dead cross over. Despite the grim work, the two find themselves immediately drawn to one another.

    But this one chance encounter does not end their unexpected connection. Time and again, fate draws them to scenes of destruction, until they can no longer pretend that the fires are natural…and cannot deny that their connection also transcends the ordinary.

    But Annabelle is not all she appears. One of her many secrets may be what saves them… or what ultimately leads to their deaths. Are Gavin and Annabelle doomed to burn with more than passion?

    This western historical/paranormal contains strong religious themes and graphic sex scenes.

    Story.

    A mysterious fire breaks out in the southern states of the US destroying a complete village and killing most of the inhabitants.

    Doctor Gavin Morris is trying his best to help the dying and injured when he meets Annabelle Smith. She appears to be speaking to the ghosts of the dead.

    Gavin does not believe her, but she explains how she has been called here to help the dead on their way. She is emaciated and obviously poor, so Gavin feels sorry for her and wishes to help.

    Not to give too much away, there are more inexplicable fires, and the pair decide to investigate. During their investigations they grow closer. 

    They find themselves in a terrifying situation, being stalked by an entity far more frightening and dangerous than the ghosts.

    Characters 

    I liked the main characters. They had their struggles with both the paranormal and the romantic feelings developing between them. 

    They developed nicely throughout the novel, with Gavin reluctantly accepting Annabelle’s work, and the fact of the ghosts.

    Secondary characters were also well developed, including the ghosts, some of which had to be told they had died. They also kept their worldly characters, especially one rather unpleasant woman.

    Writing

    I thought that Ms Beaudelaire gave us a clear feeling of both time and place. I had a clear picture in my head of every setting, and believed in the characters.

    No grammatical mistakes, nor typos.

    I give this book 5*

      My ranking of books. In order to get a particular number of stars, it is not necessary to meet all the criteria. This is a guide only.

    5* Exceptional. Wonderful story. Setting well drawn, and characters believable–not perfect, but with flaws. Will keep you up all night. No typos or grammatical errors.

    4* A thoroughly enjoyable read. Great and original story. Believable setting and characters. Very few grammatical errors or typos.

    3* I enjoyed it. Good story. Characters need some development. Some typos or grammatical errors.

    2* Not for me. Story not very strong. Unbelievable and flat characters. Setting not clearly defined. Many typos or grammatical errors.

    1* I hated it. Story almost non-existent. Setting poor. Possibly couldn’t finish it.

    Have you read any of Simone Baudelaire’s books? This is the first one I’ve read of hers, but will certainly be looking out for more.

    Memories. Washing Day

    Image by David Grimshaw from Pixabay

    I was putting my washing on the other day and suddenly thought about how washing clothes has changed since my grandmother’s day.

    This wasn’t in the 1900s, but the 1950s that I remember.

    My grandma had what she called a ‘dolly tub’. This was a metal barrel with an open top. I don’t really know what it was made of, but probably galvanised zinc. At least, that’s what it looked like.

    First she would boil some water, then pour it into the tub. This would take several pans as she didn’t have a boiler.

    Earlier we’d grated soap. There was no such thing as washing powder, which, of course, is a detergent, not a soap. The soap was allowed to dissolve in the hot water before the clothes were added.

    She then used a ‘posser’ to pound the clothes. This was hard work. Her posser was copper, but earlier ones were wood. These wooden ones looked a bit like a three-legged stool (but with more legs) on a long handle. Grandma’s was like an upturned bowl with a lid and holes drilled in it to allow water to escape.

    If clothes were particularly dirty or stained, she would rub them on a washboard with more soap and perhaps a scrubbing brush.

    After the clothes had been pounded clean, they were put through the mangle. This had to be turned by hand, and it squeezed the excess water out.

    Then the dolly tub was emptied and clean water added. The clothes were put back and once more possed to rinse the soap out. They had to be rinsed at least twice, preferably more. Once again passed through the mangle. 

    When all this was finished, grandma put out the clothes line and hung the washing on it. Pushing it up with a clothes prop, which was a long piece of wood with a v cut out at the top.

    Washing day was a strenuous day in those days.

    Then she got a washing machine.

    Unlike those of today, it loaded at the top and had a paddle to churn the clothes. No more strenuous possing. It still had a mangle on the top, but it was run by electricity and not by hand turning a wheel. Clothes still had to be hung out in the garden to dry though, or hung on a clothes horse around the open fire if the weather was wet..

    Washing took a whole day. No wonder women in those days stayed at home and didn’t go out to work. No labour saving devices!