Before we had indoor plumbing in our house circa 1970, I remember my father used to get up before us to put the fire in. After he'd get the fire in, he would start getting our breakfast ready, which was the same thing every day. He'd toast a loaf of homemade bread every morning for all of us who would be living there at the time. To toast the bread, he would put it right on top of a wire toaster that was flat on top of the stove so the bread would be singed as soon as it hit the toaster; a couple of seconds from start to toast. The toast would then be topped off with Eversweet margarine. The smell that came from the toast was incredible. He'd also have a cup of tea each ready for us to go with our toast. To get water for the tea, he used to have to take a pot down to a well we owned down over the bank beside Martin Davis's store. The well was a wooden barrel that was put into a pre-dug hole in the middle of a stream. To boil the water, he would pour some of the water out of the pot into the kettle that was always sitting on the stove. Back then, tea came in a package about the size of the block of the Eversweet margarine and it wasn't in bags. He would put a spoonful of loose tea leaves in the cup, then pour the boiling water over it. We'd put the sugar and canned milk in it to our own liking. While we were stirring in the sugar and milk, we could see the tea leaves twirling around in the cup as it kept rising to the top and going back down. After we finished stirring it, all the leaves would settle to the bottom, and then we would dunk our toasted homemade bread into it. We sort of had an unspoken competition going on to see who could eat the most and we'd eat up that loaf of bread in a matter of minutes. When we were finished with our breakfast, all the tea leaves would be stuck to the bottom and the inside sides of the cup. We could also see leftover sugar on the bottom where we didn't stir it enough because we were too anxious to see if we could get more slices than anyone else. After we finished our breakfast, my father would have to throw some more wood into the stove so my mother could start baking more bread, and then he'd head into Nar Wes to cut some wood. That stove used to be going all the time; even in the summer because that was what my mother not only baked bread with, but she also had to use it to cook our suppers every day. When she used to do the laundry, she would use a washer that looked like an over-sized propane tank standing upright with two rolling pin shaped wheels tight together going across the top for a wringer. She would put a couple of pots of water on the stove to warm it up and dump it into the washer and then throw the clothes into the water. When the washer was finished, she would take each piece of clothing individually and run them through the wringer. Once it had all gone through the wringer, she would then put them in a basket and take them out to the clothesline. There would be a really long stick holding up the clothesline that would be leaning so the clothesline would be close enough for her to reach to put the clothes onto it. Once she put all the clothes on the line, she would take the clothesline pole and stand it almost straight up and drive the bottom of it into the ground for stability and so that the line would be high enough for the wind to get at the clothes to dry them. When I think about all the work our parents went through to keep us fed and clothed, it totally astonishes me.   Submitted By: Damien Snook