Toilet paper through the ages: a potted history
IWAS interested to see that almost every shopping trolley in the queue I was standing in contained a large pack of toilet paper. It’s one of those items you toss into the cart with hardly a thought. “Oh well, even if we do still have some at home, it will always be used.” Toilet paper is one of those products that have altered human behaviour quite dramatically over the last century.
When I was at boarding school many years ago, the toilets were fitted with holders for boxes of paper squares (I confess this was considered rather oldfashioned. We used rolls of paper at home). I think our school paper was made by Jeyes. The British House of Commons used sheets of paper, rather than rolls, in their members’ toilets until quite recently.
Their official parliamentary paper was made in Belgium and branded “Bronco No 3”.
One of the functions of Her Majesty’s Stationery Office in Queen Victoria’s time was to supply every government building with toilet paper.
Each sheet bore the words: “Government property.” I thought you’d like to know that. In the big English manor houses (Downton Abbey-style), the family used proper toilet paper sheets but the staff were expected to use newsprint.
I suppose some lowly chambermaid was given the task of cutting yesterday’s Times into suitable squares.
Family loos apparently had polished mahogany seats while the servants sat on plain pine, or deal, seats (I suppose that was the origin of the expression “getting a raw deal”).
Some hard-working aristocrats felt the time spent in the loo should be put to good use.
In 1747, Lord Chesterfield wrote to his son that it would be a good idea to buy cheap editions of the Latin poets to study, and to tear off the pages he had read to serve as loo paper. Let’s hope the lad was a fast reader. That puts a new spin on the expression: “a seat of learning”.
Smart homes had a wooden or porcelain box mounted on the wall (at school the boxes were porcelain) to hold the papers. Working-class homes simply had a nail hammered into the wall, and sheets of paper were spiked on to it.
Later, the Drayton Paper Works came out with a line of paper that was “ready-stringed”. The book of sheets had a hole through it and a loop of string made it easy to hang up.
In country areas like the Karoo where I grew up, the arrival of the new hardware catalogue was an important annual event.
It was always printed on quite thin paper and I sometimes wondered whether it had deliberately been designed to end up down the pipes.
Almost every outdoor privy contained a catalogue. I used to enjoy the pages of different pocket knives with trade marks like Best, and Joseph Rogers and Elbeco.
Alas, the grown-ups preferred the gardening implements and farming tools, so the pocket knife pages were usually the first to go.
Last Laugh
Do you know the difference between a supermarket trolley and a politician? They both hold large quantities of food and drink, but only the trolley has a mind of its own.