Household Items

A few will be aware I have been known to speak on various subjects over the years. Fundamentally these all revolve around my favourite subject of etymology. Have always enjoyed bringing this fascinating subject to others. It’s not for me to say whether the audiences have, although many have asked me to return.

Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these etymological presentations, continuing with Household Items. Pots and pans, cutlery, white goods, and even those most basic items such as the table, the chair and the bed - at some point in time these must have been named and why were these chosen? A fascinatingly different look at our history through both language and everyday items. Some things will never be seen in the same light again. There is a PowerPoint presentation to accompany this talk if required.

And for a taster let’s take a look at a few examples beginning with toaster: from ‘toast’, first used to refer to the browning of bread in the early 15th century, this came from the Old French toster meaning ‘to grill, roast, burn’ and, in turn, comes from the Latin torrere ‘to parch’ which is ultimately from Proto-Indo-European ters ‘to dry’. Interestingly this is also the origin of ‘terrain’, which today refers to a broad expanse of ground but originally meant ‘dry ground’ and thus the phrase ‘desert terrain’ or ‘waterless terrain’ is quite superfluous.

Knife: comes from Proto-Germanic knibaz also meaning ‘knife’. Note the pronunciation with a silent ‘k’ is only since 1750 – this was not deliberate, it is simply quite difficult to continually say ker-nife.

Toilet: now you might be a little surprised to find the earliest use in English, seen from 1530s, came from Middle French toilette meaning ‘a cloth, bag for clothes’. This shares an origin with ‘toil’, itself a Middle French origin where toile meant ‘hunting net, cloth, web’ and traced to Proto-Indo-European teks ‘to weave’. So how did ‘cloth’ become ‘karzee’? The answer, as with all changes, is by association – the cloth adorned the dresser, the dresser was in a small room or closet, and eventually to the inevitable lavatory attached or included. Now you’re going to ask about ‘lavatory’, which comes from the same root as ‘lave’ and referred to a ‘place for washing’ – and thus began as a euphemism for ‘toilet’.

If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line.

Privies

A few will be aware I have been known to speak on various subjects over the years. Fundamentally these all revolve around my favourite subject of etymology. Have always enjoyed bringing this fascinating subject to others. It’s not for me to say whether the audiences have, although many have asked me to return.

Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these presentations, continuing with Privies.

Pop to the loo, go, flush, wash. Nothing could be simpler in the modern world but it wasn't always like this. Our parents, grandparents, and earlier generations had to toddle off down the path to the privy at the bottom of garden. During warm summer days the hole in a board with no flush or sewage system sounds bad enough - but after dark and in the depths of winter armed with only a candle? A number of narratives from the Toilet Tales of Yesteryear and told as only the British can.

Gongfermors, or night soil men, were charged with emptying privies. They would do this regularly, the regularity depending on the size of the pit below. One such pit was in the Bishop’s Medieval Palace in Lincoln, where the detritus down the pit would be cleared out regularly – every 50 years, on average.

Another tale comes from Europe and the thoroughly dislikeable Frederick Barbarossa. Even the man himself realised how much he was hated, and knowing he was most likely to be assassinated whilst paying a visit, ordered that nobody should visit the privy unless he did.

With the whole entourage answering a call of nature together – be they male or female – it put a great deal of strain on the wooden flooring. Eventually the combination of the weight of people and the rotting wood resulted in the floor giving way and several ‘visitors’ disappeared into the morass below – four of whom were never seen or heard of again.

Finally I once discovered a large urinal in a museum, where an image of a bee was to be seen at around knee height. When I asked why it was there, I was told it was a target – hit the target, no splash back. I then asked why a bee, and was told because the Latin name for a bee is apis. And they say these Victorians had no sense of humour.

If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line.

Pooley Hall Colliery

The Pooley Hall Estate surrounded the hall built by Sir Thomas Cockayne in 1509. Later the hall became the property of Charles Jennens and subsequently the Hon. Charles Finch MP. When the Coventry Canal opened in 1789 – it runs within twenty metres of the hall – it was probably inevitable that coal would be extracted from the extensive coalfields.

The first shaft was sunk in 1849 and completed in 1849, with the first coal extracted the following year. By 1897 the colliery had been formed and a branch line built to connect to the Trent Valley Line – remains of the bridge across the canal can still be seen.

In 1921 the Pooley Hall miners did not join the miners’ strike and in June the striking miners at Baddesley and Birch Coppice marched on Polesworth to persuade them to join the strike – but 200 policemen had been drafted in and a baton charge left several striking miners unconscious. Eventually the strikers accepted the reduction in salary and extension of the working week, as the Pooley Hall miners already had.

In 1924 the colliery was visited by the Duke of York – the miners selected to meet the future King George VI were instructed to wear their Sunday best suit and a flat cap (if you didn’t own a flat cap, go out and buy one!) Further evidence of the conditions they worked in was hidden by whitewashing the pit bottom, while an underground toilet was installed (the first in the country) complete with rosewood seat. Nobody could use this toilet until the Duke’s visit was over, and within the week the bucket toilet was removed as the stench was overpowering.

The miners did join the strike of 1936, but as the family also owned Tamworth Electricity Company, they used the suddenly available labour to dig trenches for the electricity cables to bring electricity to surrounding villages.

The colliery closed in 1965 – much of the buildings had to be demolished due to subsidence. Today 154 acres of the estate is Pooley Hall Country Park.

Going Underground: Birmingham

Thanks to Robert Deloyde roving around with his camera, I am able to add more to the information contained in the book. I am indebted to Robert for the information.

Near to the corner of Hill St and Station St was a Gentlemen's Toilet, it was just below the roadway, at some point it was closed down and filled in, when New St Station had a refurb, guess what was uncovered?

Robert was surprised I did not mention the Bus/Coach station that was built but never used under Birmingham's former Central Library.

Robert also pointed me in the direction of the service area of the Big Top, (entrance is opposite Moor St Station). This not built with articulated lorry's in mind in the 1950s, with the exit in New St. Never built because of the cost.

Woolworths in New St had it own service area in Stephenson Street. A loading bay had spaces for the managers cars, the area dark and dingy. Possibly you can still see the slope to the loading bay from Stephenson Street next door to two large lifts still visible in Stephenson Street that go down one floor to an underground car park with room for about twenty cars.

When Rackhams was a going concern at the top of the slope there was a turntable so that you could drive onto the turntable and push the van/lorry around so that you could back onto a loading bay, but what used to happen was that van/lorry's would hit the turntable at speed causing it to turn around until the driver would reverse to the loading bay, thereby stopping the rotation. This turntable lifted many years ago when the vehicles grew too big.

In the book I spoke of working in Digbeth and the problems when the River Rea flooded. Just before the Ironmonger's closed for the last time (Gregory Pank's) after trading for some five decades - Robert took a few shots inside the shop, and with their permission I took a few in their cellar. Full of stuff, including boxes, a table and, in one corner, a pump used to empty the cellar when the river flooded it. Previously this had been a baker and also a pub. The only light into the cellar from a number of glass panes in the ceiling.

Tramways still have some rails in situ, never having been raised.

When work started of HS2 in Curzon Street, on removing the concrete and soil, now covered over, this brick work was revealed and Robert wonders if it belonged to the earlier railway buildings.

Water Idioms

Several words have become part of the language in being used in phrases. Last time we looked at ‘sea’ and now look at ‘water’.

Water tower is first recorded at the end of the 13th century.

Watering can is first seen in 1690, although water can had been in use for at least three centuries prior to that.

Water hole is recorded by 1670.

Watering place has been recorded since the middle of the 15th century, but not until 1965 did it take on the meaning of a public house or similar.

Hot water was just that until 1530, when it became used to mean ‘in trouble’.

Hot water bottles became popular from 1813 for stone or earthenware warmers; from 1853 the softer version of vulcanised rubber was introduced.

Waterpipes have been in use for millennia, but not referred to as same until the end of the 14th century.

Water closets are named from 1755, although the flush toilet had been produced two centuries earlier by Sir John Harrington.

As a noun the water ski is recorded from 1931, as a verb it had to wait until 1953 – hence the question is, what were they doing on water skis for more than two decades.

The water table, the level of water underground where the rock/soil is saturated, has only been known as such since 1879.

A water moccasin is a snake found in the southern USA, described as such in 1821.

The water wheel, the means of powering a watermill, is first recorded around the end of the 14th century. Around this time mills were powered by wind as well as water, and thus the mill wheel would have suggested a water-powered construction.

Dish water, that water used to wash the pots and pans, comes from the late 15th century; but the term came to be used for anything overly weak (be it broth, soup, coffee, tea) from 1719.

Watermarks on paper are not made by water, but the term was coined in 1708.

Watershed in the figurative sense has been known since 1878, although today it is rarely used to refer to anything but a cut-off point for broadcasting.

We all know what a waterbed is, although does anyone realize its introduction in the 1970s was a reinventing? In 1844 the same technology was employed for invalids in order to reduce or prevent bed sores; and the original sense was simply a bed on board a ship, used since 1610.

Water colour originally referred to a pigment soluble in water; only since 1854 has it been used in the art world.

The waterline on a vessel has been used since 1620; since 2011 I’m told it also refers to the inner rim of the eyelid when applying makeup.

Nothing was described as waterproof until 1799, although they must have been waterproof or their boats would have sunk.

A Call of Nature

Following on from the look back at my Staffordshire Privies last time, here is an examination of the development of some of the terminologies.

Spend a Penny – Obviously the reference is to the coin-operated locks on the toilet doors which were once operated by a penny, obviously the pre-decimal version. It certainly did not come from the earliest known public toilet to charge a fee – the building still stands and is officially known as the Flavian Amphitheatre, although more often described as the Colosseum in Rome. Completed in 80AD, the Romans not only charged customers to use the facilities but also collected the urine and sold in on for use as a degreasing agent in making cloth. Charging to empty one’s bladder and then selling it on – that really is taking the proverbial!

The bog – is an expression which has been reversed for the room was originally known as the boghouse. This means ‘bog’ began as a verb and alludes to the consistency. Indeed this was the original meaning of the Saxon scit or ‘muddy’.

Dunny – is Australian slang and an example of how phrases from English, now obsolete in Britain, have endured in the former colonies. As with many Australian expressions this is an abbreviation, itself from a term seen as dunnick, dunnekin, dunnyken or dunnakin, depending upon the region. These can be traced back to danna, recorded since at least the eighteenth century and used to describe, quite specifically, human solid waste.

Kharzi – also seen as carsey (and anything between the two), first makes an appearances at the time of British rule in India and said to have been brought back to our shores around this time. This undoubtedly is down to the term being associated with the similar-sounding ‘khaki’, which does have its origins on the sub-continent unlike the toilet reference. Possibly this comes from casa or ‘house’ and simply a reference to the smallest room.

Loo – may have more explanations than almost any toilet terminology, none of which are at all certain. Most simple is from the French l’eau meaning simply ‘water’, but this hardly fits with the facts as the water closet did not come into general use until the twentieth century and the term was in use a hundred years earlier. Perhaps this is an abbreviation of another slang term of ‘waterloo’? Again this does not make any sense as the water factor did not exist until much later, hence this term is more likely to be from ‘loo’ rather than vice versa. Next we have ‘gardyloo’, a term once popular in Scotland meaning ‘watch out!’. Said to hail from the French gardez l’eau and a reference to the slops thrown (usually from an upstairs window) into the street below in the days before sewage systems. All these are undoubtedly examples of creative etymology as, indeed, is the final word on ‘loo’. To say ‘toodle-oo’ is to say goodbye, most usually to someone you know well and would be sure to meet again, so it is a brief separation. It has been suggested this was also used to signal a brief comfort break and ‘toodle-oo’ seen as a slurred pronunciation of ‘to-the-loo’.

Jakes – certainly in use by 1530 as Shakespeare writes in King Lear “I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the walls of the jakes with him.” Likely this dates from a time when the name Jack was a generic term for any person, irrespective of gender, and hence Jacks place became Jakes. Most often a North American term, ‘John’ would be same as ‘Jack’.

I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.

Staffordshire Privies

It is fifteen years, almost to the day, since I was asked to produce my first book away from my normal subject of toponymy or even etymology. When Countryside Books approached me with the idea of adding to their series on the subject of privies I was lost for words. However recently I was asked to speak on the subject and I was reminded of some of the oddities I uncovered during my research.

In the late twentieth century we take for granted the efficient disposal of sewage. The sole discomfort in the modern era is on cold winter’s days when greeted with the initial shock of a cold toilet seat in public conveniences. Yet it was as recently as the 1920s when the flush toilet became the norm in newly erected properties, although then the vast majority were outside (as I well recall).

Except for the limited influence on sanitary conditions during the Roman occupation, little change in waste disposal had taken place since man first walked these green and pleasant lands. Indeed, as the population of our islands increased and rural communities relocated to live in lines of tenement properties, the problem of sanitation grew proportionately. Buckets and pots were emptied straight from windows into the street below and if passers-by were unfortunate enough to be in the line of fire, so be it.

The Biblical reference to this basic requirement instructs us to go into the desert with a paddle (wooden spade) and make a hole in the sand, the paddle also being utilized to fill in the hole afterwards. No reference to toilet paper here, nor to any alternative. The Bible also relates ho Baal’s temple was destroyed by the forces of Jehu (Kings II, 10:27), henceforth the place used as a latrine. King Eglon’s murder is also covered (Judges, 3:24), occurring whilst the gentleman was relieving himself in the inner room of the house.

Even the most magnificent of castles of the Middle Ages had no conveniences to speak of. Most were limited to narrow passages situated within tower walls, with the excrement dropping down a shaft to form a pile at the base – or sometimes to fall straight into the surrounding moat. In some of the better planned keeps one may have been lucky enough to find such places located near chimneys, which did something to keep out the cold. However personal comfort was not at the forefront of the architect’s mind, rather that the natural updraught from the fires acted as a means to remove unwanted smells.

In 1367 the first Earl of Stafford began the building of Stafford Castle. A master mason, John of Bicester, was charged with: “Building a castle on the mound within the manor of Stafford, in length, breadth and height, with towers, rooms, bedchambers, chapel, privies, chimneys, loopholes, windows, doors and gates.” This is the earliest reference to a privy I could find within the county. It is interesting that this agreement lists privies before windows, doors and chimneys.

Monarchs both here and abroad were given little consideration when it came to a call of nature. They were more often than not under the very real threat from perfidious murderers and traitors, and in order to minimise the risk of assassination the reigning sovereign would be accompanied everywhere, even to the loo. The twelfth century German emperor found his way to one loo accompanied by so many the wooden floor gave way under the weight. Fortunately Barbarossa managed to save himself but several of his entourage failed to emerge alive from the pit below. The Saxon king Edmund Ironside was murdered in 1016. One chronicle records how he died when impaled on “a spear in the fundament (backside) while at the withdraught (toilet) to purge nature.” It was only in the seventeenth century that kings and queens started to receive special consideration of a sort, when commode-style contraptions were introduced into the richest homes in the land.

For the rest of the population the only conveniences were public ones. In villages this would often have been over a natural watercourse of some description, whilst townsfolk would have been treated to a communal cesspit. The rural version provided its own disposal system; the cesspit needed to be emptied. However owing to the appalling smell emanating from the places such a task would have been carried out only when the pit was overflowing. In Stafford town centre one cesspit from the seventeenth century was discovered during building work. It now forms part of the foundations of the Mark’s & Spencer store.

A map of Stafford dating from 1625 shows how the channel in the middle of the road, principally to allow surface water to drain away, ran towards the river Sowe through the town wall at Southgate opposite the bridge. Here it discharged into the river, taking with it all the rubbish collected on the way. This would certainly have included waste products – both animal and human. The run-off polluted the river to such a degree that the men of Stafford were obliged to cross the bridge to water their horses further upstream. This daily ritual is marked on the map.

To compound the problem still further, the town dung heap was located immediately downstream of this place, where the contents of the cesspits were deposited. The 1625 map identifies the dung heap and also tells us this was the ‘way to the Thieves Ditch’. As this is the only reference to such a name we do not know if this was a place where thieves would hide out, or if they were deposited there as a punishment. Either way it is enough to seriously consider going straight.

The cesspits were emptied by gongfermors. When the bucket privy arrived the same job was performed by those known as night-soil men, who clearly worked at night, fundamentally to reduce the smell nuisance and the vast number of flies. These outside privies did not have a toilet seat as we would know it today, although the hole cut in the board would be complete with a lid (until it was lost). To find the board across the pit with more than one hole was by no means unusual. Two-holers were common and even more. These would have holes of different sizes so that the kids would not be in danger of falling through the larger hole required by their parents. On my travels I heard of how the carpenter in the high street had a long board attached to the wall of his workshop. This was hinged and could be dropped down so that customers could take a seat and order a new board made to measure with holes in increasing sizes. It was said the board had no less than ten and possibly as many as fourteen holes!

Finally mention must be made of the automatic earth closet designed by John Parker, a cabinet-maker by trade, which improved on a manual lever-operated version invented by the Reverend Samuel Moule in 1860. In John Parker’s design a series of levers were connected from the seat to a hopper. As the user rose the system released an amount of soil (or ashes) from the hopper into a bucket. Of the 20,000 made two versions were produced, in pine for the poor and mahogany for the more affluent customer. The earth closet was soon to be pushed aside with the appearance of the flush toilet. Although in many aspects it was (and is) superior to the water variety.

Regrettably, from an ecological viewpoint, the water flush did not need to be emptied and therefore inevitably reigned supreme. Should the earth closet have taken up residence in all our homes instead, today there would be few worries regarding water shortages; sewage treatment plants would have far less volume to manage and would therefore be more efficient; with fewer pipes to lag burst pipes during the thaw would be less of a hazard; and lastly we could all be producing our own garden produce – organically grown of course.

My Staffordshire Privies also contains a long list of expressions referring to the privy and answering a call of nature. Next time I shall look at the origin of some of these but in the meantime I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.

Schooldays with Whatshisname

Ideas for writing come from the strangest places. An aroma, a tune, a news item, a venue, or even a particular meal might bring to mind a memory which results in an idea. The other day it was the face of a child who looked very like a boy I was at school with forty-odd years ago. I don't remember his name, yet do recall how his unpopularity did not diminish his annoying enthusiasm one iota, nor did it stop an extraordinary claim which I recalled the instant I saw his doppleganger.

I recall the autumnal chill in the air when this odd individual insisted if, after visiting the upstairs toilet and flushing, you didn't reach the bottom of the stairs before the flush finished you would die. Nothing was offered as to the means of our potential demise nor how this had failed to kill off the entire population before we were in on this fascinating snippet. Despite the utter absurdity of this statement there were those who chorused "Yeah?!"

Most likely the chap grew up to become a plumber, possibly working for Dyno rod. Undoubtedly he is still plunging headlong down staircases in the hope of reaching the bottom in an effort to delay meeting his maker for a while longer.

All this brought to mind by the face of a child who must have been left wondering what he had done to attract the attention of some greying fellow with a notebook.