The Close Mooth, was a common entry way. It led out to a shared back court, and also to the stairs to the upper floors. A close actually formed a mini community, busy with people passing in and out. It was the center of life for thirty-six families, twenty-four after the Blitz of WWll. The steps of a close told a story about the people who lived there, and generally, closes had reputations, and there was considerable pressure to keep up standards and appearances!
"Naw hen, yer no goin' our ther tae play, have ye no seen the state o' ther close mooth?"
There was also a weekly ritual that took place. Families living on the ground floor would take turns scrubbing the steps, giving them a fresh application of red clay. The same ritual took place upstairs, each family scrubbing the stairs down to the next landing, only in this case the steps would be edged in white clay instead of the red. Oh yes, there was a specific way it had to be done!
Brass, Brass and more Brass! All the doors had brass name-plates, handles, letter-boxes, push-pull door-bells, all shining bright, free of fingerprints. If someone didn't keep their door clean, they were quickly told about it!
"Yer place looks terrible and yer giein' us a showin' up."
Standards of cleanliness and respectability were proclaimed by the doors and stairs of a close, and a tenent's finances never entered into the picture. Your front door made a social statement. It was simply the close showing their pride ...
I have so many fond memories of a time long, long ago, of a wee lassie wae her pals swappin' scraps ... sittin' oan the steps of her ain Close Mooth!
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