Afternoon, 1940

It’s been a busy morning, and Annie is glad to sit down at the kitchen table and eat the tomato sandwich she’s made for her lunch. She looks around with satisfaction – the floor is newly washed and polished, and the stove is shining with a fresh coat of blacking. After giving Baby her bath, Annie had propped her up in the big pram, where she could be wheeled around as Annie scrubbed and polished, and swept and dusted the other rooms. The wide verandahs had been swept too, while Baby got a dose of fresh air. Beside her on a chair is a basket of ironing to be dealt with after lunch, while Baby (hopefully) sleeps.

But first she needs to go into Lubeck and do a few messages, as Fred won't be home until late. There are those letters she wrote last night to post as well; one to Auntie Belle, and one to an old friend from nursing days. 

It's a fine day, and she decides to walk into town with the pram; it’s only about ¾ of a mile, hardly worth harnessing up the horse and buggy. They don’t have a car yet – but Annie’s father has hinted that he might be buying a new car soon, in which case (she hopes) his old car might be handed on to them.

Removing her apron, she dons a lightweight coat, combs her hair, and applies a dusting of powder and some ‘lippy’. Wrapping baby up warmly, she sets off, the pram bouncing along on the gravel road. It’s wheat-carting season, and a couple of trucks go past, bound for the silos in Lubeck. Soon she’s at the general store,where she hands over 2 pounds of freshly made butter, and buys some chops for tea, fourpence worth of yeast, the new Women’s Weekly, and also the Truth for Fred.

Next to the Post Office, where she hands over the letters, and in the little greengrocers next door she gets some carrots, onions, and a few oranges.

Tucking her purchases into the foot of the pram, she sets off for home again. The road is dusty, but luckily there are no more trucks, just old Mr Gellatly churning along in his ancient Dodge ute, flat out at thirty miles an hour. He waves a greeting, and Annie waves back.

Home again, she makes a glass of lemon cordial, and sits down to feed Baby, who’s well ready for it – she’s been grizzling most of the way home.

With Baby fed, changed and put down for a nap, it’s time to tackle the ironing; the stove is stoked up, and three flat irons placed on top to heat up. Early this morning, Annie ‘damped down’ the ironing – sprinkling water over the clothes and rolling them up tightly to make them easier to iron. Annie spreads the ironing blanket out on the kitchen table, covered by an old sheet. She has a folded towel handy too, to wipe the irons so no black marks appear on the clean clothes.

She begins with the hankies; they look so nice all folded up. Then there are tea towels and pillow slips, and the kitchen curtains, which had needed freshening up. She’s really pleased with those curtains, made when they first moved in. Just plain cream cotton, with three rows of yellow, orange and green ric-rac above the hem. (The ric-rac’s a pain to iron though). Then some shirts for Fred, and a couple of blouses for herself, followed by a pile of baby nighties.

Lastly she tackles the sheets, the worst job of all. She doesn’t iron the whole sheet, but folds them and irons the top quarter – the bit that shows on the bed. She also irons some towel ends, just to take out the peg marks. All finished!

Now she can sneak a quick look at the new Women’s Weekly, before it’s time to cook tea. They’ll be having chops tonight, with mashed potatoes, carrots, and beans from the garden. For pudding, she’ll open a bottle of apricots, and make a fruit crumble – there’s plenty of cream.

Oh look – the Weekly has some new cake recipes! That one looks interesting….