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In the early 1900s when I was a child, the scullery was where the food preparation, cooking and washing took place and where brooms and brushes were kept. The sketch shows its arrangement in a typical Victorian-style terrace house where I grew up in Edmonton (now Enfield) in north London.

The layout of the scullery in a Victorian-style terrace house in the early 1900s.
The entrance to the scullery was from the kitchen.
If you have an old photo which would illustrate this page, I would very much appreciate a copy. Pat Cryer
The floor was stone and it was two steps lower than the rest of the downstairs, probably to allow for water inevitably getting splashed and spilt on washdays.
Against the window was a white wood table made by one of the carpenters at the Infirmary. Lots of things were made of plain unvarnished white wood – the bread board, the lid of the copper, the knife box and green squeezer – and they all had to be scrubbed to keep the dirt out of the grain.
There was a large cooking range called a kitchener which was used when I was young. However it was boarded up when I was a teenager because my parents felt that it was a fire hazard. They were right because I remember a red hot spark from another chimney getting into our chimney and setting the wooden surround alight. Through the presence of mind of my elder brother, the fire was brought under control quite quickly.
Next to the cooking range, in the corner was the copper for heating our water.
On one of the walls was a naked gas jet. When it was lit it gave off a flame like a fan shaped prong because for some reason it never had a mantle.

Brass cold water tap. The only water tap in the house.
Off from the scullery was a small alcove or cubby hole for the sink with a single cold water tap made of brass. This was the only water supply in the house. Hot water had to be heated in either the copper or in a kettle. The alcove was well planned as it did afford some privacy when we washed there. On the wall was a wooden soap box. No exotic soap ever found its way there, just ordinary household soap, usually with little pieces of grit embedded in where my mother had used it to wash the floor. I don’t think our complexions suffered because of it.
The scullery had a side door into the yard which led to the back garden and the outside lavatory.
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These childhood recollections from around the time of the 1911 census are of the scullery in a working class home in north London (then Middlesex).