A Passion for DIY
Joyce Johnson of Heswall, Wirral, Merseyside remembers:
During the 1960s, my grandfather, being a relic of the Dig for Britain campaign, continued to maintain a small vegetable patch in the back garden. The hen coop had disappeared after the war years but now clumps of garden mint, seasonal rhubarb and a solitary apple tree lay beside a Victorian classic-style greenhouse, which was filled with sweet-smelling tomatoes. Next to a row of blackcurrant bushes, the old Anderson shelter had been replaced by a wooden shed full to bursting with hand tools and gardening equipment. My grandfather was not only a keen amateur gardener but could turn his hand to most manual DIY tasks. He had many hobbies – one of which included electronics, so he could often be found tinkering away with broken radios by repairing their defective printed circuit boards. He even owned an industrial-style Zephyr sewing machine which he used to make curtains or repair torn clothing as his “make do and mend” doctrine remained steadfast. Always devising money-saving ideas, he proclaimed that qualified craftsmen were not only difficult to find but were too expensive and that he could do just as good a job as any tradesman.
Being an afficionado of gadgets, he decided to broaden his talents even further by buying a complete set of men’s grooming equipment which included the latest gizmo… an electric cordless shaver. His newly, self-taught, home-barber skills were swiftly put to good use on any male members of the family but eventually he branched out into pet grooming by practising on the pet poodle. The poor dog used to run and hide under the sideboard when he heard the buzzing of the electric clippers.
My dad was soon to follow in his father’s footsteps with his love for gardening and gadgetry. He had been taught basic woodwork at secondary school and hand sewing and darning during his compulsory conscription years, so set out on a mission to add to his portfolio of skills.
The DIY movement was traditionally seen to have its roots in the 1950s and 1960s, so when my parents got married during that era, having an ability to carry out basic repairs on your own home was seen as an important attribute to a marriage. DIY was considered a male domain among the working-classes and was certainly encouraged by their spouses – mainly as a way to entice their husbands away from the public house and working men’s clubs.
My dad tried his hand at various projects by following instructions in Practical Householder magazine, which explained all there was to know about dry rot, repairing bad wiring, how to insulate your loft and offered many labour-saving, ingenious tips.
Television channels were very limited during the swinging 60s but a Sunday programme of which my father was a keen follower was dedicated to home improvements. It was and presented by a suave, middle-aged chap with dark, slicked-backed hair. His very posh received pronunciation English accent struck you that he was as far-removed from being working-class as you could imagine. His attire consisted of a long-sleeved shirt with collar and tie (complete with tiepin) and formal high-waisted trousers. This popular DIY guru demonstrated the whole caboodle from how to build a coffee table from scratch, laying floor tiles to putting up shelves and gave the impression that everything was so easy.
But home renovation was quite a complex endeavour and sometimes things went horribly wrong. There is a difference between improvements being carried out by an expert to that of a complete amateur with little or no experience and many tasks were not feasible unless the person possessed the correct tools for the job.
That came to the fore when my dad’s basic plumbing skills were called into question by not having the correct materials when our water pipes had frozen solid during a long, severe winter. Without any fibreglass to lag the pipes, several crepe bandages were used as a temporary alternative. We had no running water for some considerable time. I was reminded of my dad’s first handmade piece of furniture which was a wooden playpen constructed from strips of pine and lengths of hardwood dowels. Hours were spent measuring, sanding and securing each dowelling rod into its own carefully carved-out recess then painstakingly painting the whole thing in several coats of gloss. But what he hadn’t considered was that it so lightweight that any infant could literally lift it up and crawl underneath it with ease… which, apparently, I did. From that day henceforth, he overcompensated in everything he constructed by making each item excessively overweight.
He obviously spent a lot of time reading the magazine section entitled toys and play equipment, as all my playthings were homemade. However, for many people, my family included, DIY was a necessity rather than a luxury as money was tight and shopbought toys were expensive.
My doll’s house was so large and bulky that there was no room for it in my bedroom and I needed help to lift the roof off before I could even begin to play with it. Then, while the other children on my estate had modern, lightweight scooters, mine was constructed from a plank of wood for the footplate, part of a bicycle frame formed the handlebars, and three wheels were taken from my old doll’s pram. I could barely lift it on and off the pavements.
The same scenario was with my brother’s wooden go-kart which was steered using a length of rope and lacked any form of brake mechanism.
My father always loved to potter about in his tool shed. When he acquired a large amount of sheepskin, he had a spell of making toy teddy bears but then when he ran out of material, he progressed to model railway making and model boats.
Just as his father before him, he may not have been the best do-it- yourself enthusiast by a long stretch of the imagination… but there was no end to his passion.