Pig men, mangles and monstrosities.
We were recyclers in post World War II Britain, even though we didn’t know the word.
Each household was issued with a bin into which were to be placed food scraps of all kinds. Bristol Corporation emptied the bins twice each week, and the food was boiled some place or other to make food for pigs.
Hence the bins were called “pig bins”, and the men who emptied them were called “pig men”. Mrs. Wilcox, the Greengrocer’s wife once remarked to me “what a strange thing - to call them “pig-men”.
Strange indeed, and the men who collected what Americans would call trash also had a strange moniker. Our trash was not placed in trash cans, but in dustbins. And then men who emptied those each week - yes, you’ve gotten it already, they were the “dust-men”.
Jam jars were recycled too. This was a voluntary effort, usually undertaken by local boy scout troops. They would come around the neighbourhood once or twice a year to collect used and washed jam jars. They’d get a penny or two for each jar from the local jam company (Robertson’s in Brislington), to boost their troop funds.
The “rag and bone men” would also visit the area. They would take old bits of metal, and articles made of cotton or wool. My guess is that in earlier days they had also taken bones - to be rendered to make soap - hence “rag and bone men”. I’ve heard that in London they were called “Steptoes” (hence the old BBC “sitcom” Steptoe and Son), but that usage was unknown in Bristol.
Mum believed that the rag and bone men underpaid, so we did not use them. Instead we took our items to Rose’s Scrap yard near Old Market. More about that in a future entry: “Here a penny, there a shilling”.
So, Mr. Ripley - I have seen, I have seen with my own eyes - pig men, dust men, and rag & bone men!
In our back garden we had a mangle. It was a huge hand operated contraption with parallel wooden cylinders, through which we ran sheets and towels before they were hung out to dry. We turned it using a huge handle. Later we had an electrically operated device, called not a mangle, but a wringer.
Mum would wash sheets and towels in a copper boiler, heated by a gas ring. These items would go through the mangle three times.
First, after they had been washed and stirred in boiling hot water with powdered soap (always “Persil” brand in our home). We stirred them with a wooden stick ( a bit like a baseball bat) which we called a “boiler stick”.
Second, after we had rinsed them in cold water, in a big galvanized iron portable bath tub.
Third, after Mum had “blued” them in the same tub. It would be filled with fresh cold water into which “Reckitt’s Blue” cubes had been dissolved. “Blueing” made them look whiter.
Then and only then would they be hung out to dry. “God speed the plough” my mother would cry if a passing steam train left soot smuts all over the still damp sheets and towels.
Next door lived “Uncle and Aunty Charlton”. (Not related in any way - but that’s what we called them.) Uncle Charlton died when I was about eight years old. Before his death he told me that when I was a little shaver, I’d filled a couple of empty milk bottles with the blue water, and had walked up and down our garden crying “Blue milk for sale. Blue milk for sale”.
And the monstrosities? One Christmas, my Mum’s brother, Uncle Fred and his wife, Auntie Phyll, gave my parents a large glass vase. It was ugly. “What a monstrosity!” my parents cried out.
And, “good little boy” that I was, I duly related to Uncle and Auntie that my parents “loved the monstrosity” they had given. I’d thought that large glass vases were called by that name!
Each household was issued with a bin into which were to be placed food scraps of all kinds. Bristol Corporation emptied the bins twice each week, and the food was boiled some place or other to make food for pigs.
Hence the bins were called “pig bins”, and the men who emptied them were called “pig men”. Mrs. Wilcox, the Greengrocer’s wife once remarked to me “what a strange thing - to call them “pig-men”.
Strange indeed, and the men who collected what Americans would call trash also had a strange moniker. Our trash was not placed in trash cans, but in dustbins. And then men who emptied those each week - yes, you’ve gotten it already, they were the “dust-men”.
Jam jars were recycled too. This was a voluntary effort, usually undertaken by local boy scout troops. They would come around the neighbourhood once or twice a year to collect used and washed jam jars. They’d get a penny or two for each jar from the local jam company (Robertson’s in Brislington), to boost their troop funds.
The “rag and bone men” would also visit the area. They would take old bits of metal, and articles made of cotton or wool. My guess is that in earlier days they had also taken bones - to be rendered to make soap - hence “rag and bone men”. I’ve heard that in London they were called “Steptoes” (hence the old BBC “sitcom” Steptoe and Son), but that usage was unknown in Bristol.
Mum believed that the rag and bone men underpaid, so we did not use them. Instead we took our items to Rose’s Scrap yard near Old Market. More about that in a future entry: “Here a penny, there a shilling”.
So, Mr. Ripley - I have seen, I have seen with my own eyes - pig men, dust men, and rag & bone men!
In our back garden we had a mangle. It was a huge hand operated contraption with parallel wooden cylinders, through which we ran sheets and towels before they were hung out to dry. We turned it using a huge handle. Later we had an electrically operated device, called not a mangle, but a wringer.
Mum would wash sheets and towels in a copper boiler, heated by a gas ring. These items would go through the mangle three times.
First, after they had been washed and stirred in boiling hot water with powdered soap (always “Persil” brand in our home). We stirred them with a wooden stick ( a bit like a baseball bat) which we called a “boiler stick”.
Second, after we had rinsed them in cold water, in a big galvanized iron portable bath tub.
Third, after Mum had “blued” them in the same tub. It would be filled with fresh cold water into which “Reckitt’s Blue” cubes had been dissolved. “Blueing” made them look whiter.
Then and only then would they be hung out to dry. “God speed the plough” my mother would cry if a passing steam train left soot smuts all over the still damp sheets and towels.
Next door lived “Uncle and Aunty Charlton”. (Not related in any way - but that’s what we called them.) Uncle Charlton died when I was about eight years old. Before his death he told me that when I was a little shaver, I’d filled a couple of empty milk bottles with the blue water, and had walked up and down our garden crying “Blue milk for sale. Blue milk for sale”.
And the monstrosities? One Christmas, my Mum’s brother, Uncle Fred and his wife, Auntie Phyll, gave my parents a large glass vase. It was ugly. “What a monstrosity!” my parents cried out.
And, “good little boy” that I was, I duly related to Uncle and Auntie that my parents “loved the monstrosity” they had given. I’d thought that large glass vases were called by that name!
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