Open Writing

I presume there were drinking cups in our house when I was young, yet I have no recollection of ever using one.

The main drinking vessel of that time and throughout my so-called formative years was a pot. In the first instance there was a gill pot. As I grew in age and stature, I graduated to the pint pot and that remained my regular drinking utensil until I joined the fighting forces at 18 years of age.

Previously it had required a Royal Coronation to educate me and many others in our strata of society as to what a beaker was. All school children were issued with one to mark the ascendancy to the throne of England of King George VI.

The pint pot, however, remained firmly ensconced on its own throne. There was no chance of it being usurped by some fancy styled alien container.

Cups and saucers were allowed house room but their usage was confined to special occasions -- weddings, funerals and better days than Sundays. Otherwise the pint pot reigned supreme, and it was not only mealtimes when its subjects were served.

I remember the occasional visit I paid to the nearby pub. There I would be dispatched to fetch beer for my grandmother, and it was one of our own pint pots which held the beverage.

Even when handles became detached from such pots they continued in service as containers for dry goods or receptacles for false teeth. Total disintegration was what it took to render the pot useless.

Long before works canteens appeared on the scene manual workers, men and women, would have their own pots at work. I have seen such vessels lined black with tannin from tea. There were many users who would never thoroughly wash their pots, giving them only the briefest rinse under a cold water tap.

On one occasion I witnessed a considered tragedy when a would-be lady do-gooder scoured the tannin from a workman’s pot under the misguided notion it would be more pleasant to drink from its gleaming interior. That was an act which almost caused the onset of an apoplectic fit when the owner saw what he considered to be devastation, an act of vandalism no less. His claim was all flavour of tea had been lost by removal of the tannin.

In the times of which I write there is no recall of tea being ‘brewed’. Beer was brewed. Tea was ‘mashed’.

To that end, mill workers would take with them a daily mashing along with their food. These mashings consisted of tea and, if taken, sugar would be added. Containers for those ingredients varied. The small oval-shaped Coleman’s mustard powder tins were favourites, as were Oxo tins, the six cube models. Mashing tins became highly polished through years of usage, becoming sources of pride to their owners.

Failing those containers, there was always newspaper, a portion of which was twisted around the mashing.

Hot water for mill mashings usually came courtesy of the boiler house via a pipe stemming from there. Pot plus mashing was held under the pipe’s outlet, the control valve opened and out gushed a cloud of steam and hot water. Practice produced a procedure whereby the combined jets were contained within one’s pot and not over the hand which held it.

In the home, of course, the kettle was almost constantly on the hob -- this because in many houses an open fire was the only source of heat. Even with gas available, that added cost to an often meagre budget -- and a teapot was quickly depleted with pint pots in use. That was another reason why mashings went directly into the drinking pot.

‘Billy cans’ also served as tea containers for some workers. Usually in blue enamel, these conical shaped cans had a capacity of around one pint. The flat based deep lid, complete with handle, functioned as a cup, the whole being carried by a wire handle.

When holiday or weekend outings were embarked upon, be it seaside or country beauty spot, there was usually a convenient pub, stall, cafe or house that would supply hot water by the jug-full for mashings which trippers brought with them.

Such establishments provided trays holding crockery -- cups this time -- spoons and a jug of water. A deposit was payable for the loan of utensils and to deter theft. Also a 1d or 2d charge for hot water and use of the other paraphernalia. Teapots of tea would be available along with individual cups of tea which cost 1d, whilst cost of coffee was 2d per cup, thought by some as an exorbitant sum.

The coffee was the natural ground variety, there being no ‘instant’, nor was there such a commodity as a teabag.

In most working class homes of the period coffee was prepared in the same way as tea, that is by mashing, although I don’t remember it being termed that way. My recollection is that coffee was ‘scalded’. “Scald some coffee,” would be the cry, and everyone understood.

Often both tea and coffee went directly into their respective pots. Teapots and coffee pots may well have been available, but it was quicker by the pint pot method and, as previously noted, saved on washing up.

Of course, in such instances care needed to be taken when the dregs were reached. Otherwise a bout of splutterings and spittings occurred when a mouthful of tea leaves or coffee grounds were encountered.

Cold or tepid tea without milk was a favourite tipple for housewives in many households. Often one could see the favoured pint pot stood on top of the coal-fired oven, the housewife taking a swig on passing. When the pot was drained of all but tea leaves, they would then be scattered over the carpet to allay dust when sweeping was in progress.

Otherwise, tea leaves could be confined to the ledge of the rear of the fireplace -- ‘t’ fire back’ as it was known -- there to dry along with potato peelings, coffee grounds and orange skins. They would then be raked down in a morning to act as firelighters.

The humble pint pot then served many purposes. On cold nights ‘pobs’ might be served up in one, boiled milk with bread broken in, plus a knob of butter. Hot peas from the door-to-door peaman, another evening treat in winter. Cockles and muscles sold by liquid measure verified by the pot as receiving just quantity.

I wonder, was Winston Churchill including pint pots when in his wartime speech he said, “They also serve who only stand and wait”?!