This week Marion tells us all about her new life in Knowle West

In 1937 mum and dad, us three girls and my gran and granfer moved to Connaught Road, Knowle West.

Most people had been compulsorily moved, some from Bedminster and quite a few from the Dings (St Philips)

I liked our new house - it was nice and bright - but I think mum and perhaps gran thought it strange after the close community of Bedminster.

But that's how new estates were born.

Compared with our cosy Regent Street terrace it was a cold house and in the winter the bedroom walls ran with condensation.

We just had the one fire in the living room.

In spite of the cold bedrooms we kept well - in fact it paid too, really.

Every morning after breakfast we had to swallow a large spoonful of cod liver oil and malt.

If we did get a cold or cough we had to swallow a dose of gran's gruesome cough mixture - I don't know what she put in it but it reeked of onions.

Then we had our chests rubbed with Vic with a good dollop up our noses.

I soon realised the cure was worse than the cold.

Home remedies were used a lot - we didn't have a national health service until 1948 - although mum and dad had something called "Blue Cross."

A visit to Doctor Dunlop, or his visiting us, cost money.

It was a wonder we didn't suffocate with all the clothes we girls had to wear, such as vests and a bodices.

"Never cast a clout til May is out" goes the saying, but whatever the weather, said mum, we still wore our bodices - plus our jumpers and skirts and coats and scarves when we went out.

Dad had his Woodbines (cheap cigarettes) and granfer his pipe but gran - well, she took snuff.

She had a lovely little box which she kept in her pinafore pocket -most women wore a "pinny"in those days - and she would open this, put a pinch of snuff on the back of her left hand and sniff.

When mum took me to Connaught Road infant school they wouldn't let me in until the following January because I was still only four.

I cried all the way home because I could already read and write and I liked school.

Dad bought me a little blackboard and easel but apart from my little sister I didn't have any one to play with.

But I soon learned the routine and to keep out of the way.

Monday was washday - which meant that the boiler was lit and the sheets changed top to bottom.

We never had a clean pair at the same time.

Before the wash the sheets were examined for wear and tear and if necessary turned sides to middle.

I hated it if I got one of those sheets because there would be a ridge right down the middle.

After the sheets had been boiled in the gas boiler they were rinsed with a "Blue Bag" to whiten them and then rung through the mangle - two rollers with a handle which squeezed the water out.

Little boys used to sing a rude song about this.

If you are my age you will know it - but if you don't I am not going to tell you.

Well, not today anyway.

After that the "coloureds" were done and then finally the washing went out on the line if it was dry or indoors, overhead, if it was wet.

Tuesday was ironing day.

The heavy iron was heated on the gas cooker - no electric irons in those days - and I was always intrigued to see my dainty mum spit on it.

If the spittle dried too quickly then the iron was too hot.

People talk about how simple life was then but in fact it was jolly hard physical work.

Mum was little but she worked hard.

On Wednesdays she scrubbed the house from top to bottom ending with the wooden toilet seat.

As our loo was just outside the back door so we still used our "guzunders" (it went under the bed) at night.

Thursday was baking day and Friday shopping.

On Saturday we went to Bedminster.

Gran grumbled a bit at times because she missed her chickens and egg money, but dad, ever helpful, said that had only ever amounted to "chicken feed" anyway.

See you next week. Until then, Marion.