A short odeing session. My memories of the unexpected usages of the ‘Tin Bath’ that resided most of the time, in the soot-covered viaduct wall out in the back yard of Brookfield Place, Nottingham.
Traditional Usage
The tin bath hung on the viaduct wall for ages; why?
Used for bathing once a week, oh, my…
Unless Dad was working that Saturday, this I can ratify
It was occasionally used for other purposes, I’ll identify…
Coal Moving?
Twice a year, we’d get a ton of coal delivered for free,
Mostly slack, very few actual lumps in it, you see,
Someone had to sort and sift through it; that would be me!
So, I was allowed to get black and dirty, temporarily…
The coal was tipped into the bath on delivery…
The bath got all bent out of shape, a pity…
I’d start with the sieving, somewhat tetchily!
Move any lumps into the coal house, repeatedly,
But it was, of course, a necessity,
It took me hours, Dad would pay me 3d, haughtily!
♥ Auntie Kerry… the fondler ♥
Cleaning the bath hurt terribly…
Dust in the eyes, throat made me feel sickly,
The thought of bathing next was lovely,
As long as it was conducted, by my Auntie Kerry!
I was too young to know of things as nookie!
The Hartleys Arrive – Bloodbath!
It really surprised me, she bought a live turkey,
She fed it up and had to kill it, you see…
She chopped off its head, it still ran around running free…
Such a culture shock for me…
The yard was covered, slimy innards, and very bloody!
Tin Bath To The Rescue!
Dad came up with a solution for next years bloodbath,
They could use our galvanized tin bath…
To contain the turkey, thus less backyard backsplash?
As I recall, they used the leftovers to make goulash?
Gawd, I miss these neighbours!
I thought I’d miss seeing the first manned spaceflight,
Yuri Gagarin, I heard it on the radio, in the papers, alright…
Leslie called; Mrs Hartley sent me a remarkable invite…
Watch it on our TV; they even gave me sarnie, of Marmite!
Part Of Inchcock’s Memories In Ode Series.
We used to go out to the coal mines in the 1970s and get a load of coal to burn in the winter. Dirty, filthy stuff when it burned. We had tin tubs to water horses with. I never bathed in one. We had a huge bathtub in the old house that would fit about ten 5 year old kids. My friends and I had mild orgies splashing, farting and fondling each other in the bath. Oh the naughty things we did as little boys. We used to raise chickens and turkeys and butcher them. After chopping their heads off we dropped them into a 55 gallon drum to contain them while they flopped about. Then we dipped them into a hot paraffin wax which made it easier to pluck the feathers. We kids did not like killing our foul feathered pets, so my parents gave it up after while. We had no reason to raise and kill them other than for old farmer traditions. Even in the 1960s we could buy chicken, turkey and beef at the grocery store.
Ah, old habits and ways can die hard, Tim.
Interesting hearing how things were, though.
Cheers, mate.
You reminded of all that stuff.
I think a Thought Storm triggered. Hehe!
You are an absolute master of all things Odean, no one else even comes close, innit the absolute truth? A tin tub stored in a viaduct wall, awaiting use by a coterie of bathers of Nottingham birth. A birth right is what you are describing, Sir. I liked the looks of that small chair next to the tub. Rough hewn and most proper indeed. A rare piece of furniture that is likely now housed at the Tate in one of their important exhibit rooms. The tub we have is round and only provides room enough for two kids. Fortunately, the number of kids I have raised by myself for ten years — until the arrival of HRH in 1993 — very much needed an HRH, of course. What a couple of lucky kids they were, also of course.
Your auntie Kerry was quite the entertaining soul, were she not? Made life more interesting for you and Janet, that’s right as rain.
But what a bloodbath of a turkey processing operation. Holy Turkey, that was most dramatically described, kind Sir! At least the turkey did not suffer overly long, a mercy provided by the inestimable Auntie Kerry.
Wishing you an absolutely fantastic day,
Billumski
Nice to fream of it being the ‘troof’, Billumski. Hehe!
Our Jane was not with us at this time, Sir. She’s been scuttled off to one of the then rich members of the family, in Italy (RAF Base). Where as I called her then, ‘Snotty Bobbie’ (Roberta), used her to look after her younger six boys!
Poor old Turkey, two weeks being fattened up in a cold dank coalhouse, then, off with the head.
Thanks mate, may you and HRH, find rest and peace. ♥
There I go, calling Jane Janet again. One of these days I shall get it right.
Jane (there, I got it right) got to live a life of luxury in Italy. Hold that thought…the part about looking after six boys is not living a life of luxury in Italy. I wonder if they had galvanized tubs for those six lads. It was Snotty Bobbie who lived in luxury.
Well, I can tell yer who did *not* live in luxury, that would be the turkey who got to overeat in a cold and dank coalhouse. Poor old thang.
Calendar information: December is a mere three days away. Or is that “three days awry”?
Billumski
Janet was borneth Janet (Bobbies choice). But her and Pete heared me calliingher Jane, (which I think suits her so much betterer), Pete took to it, thus she was reborn as Jane. Does that maketh sense?
I hope that Jane replies to this, cause I think they would have had ‘proper’ baths wiv taps? Jane?
December, the years ending ember, for festivities by the fire are no longer… so no fetching the coal out in the cold out to the coalhouse… and hearing the poor turkey… I’m waffling again, sorry. ♥
I hadn’t known that Jane derives from Janet, and I agree that the one sylabble sounds better than requiring a second sylabble when one works better.
Say, we were both born in a month that ends in ember. Danged if /3 of the months in a year show up together at the end of the year.
Not having to fetch coal from the meager room reserved for the turkey is a mark of progress, no mistaking that is there?
I be a gust-ending Virgo, Sir. But only days away from being an ember. Hehe!
Some bod wrote that more August born Virgoleans are in mental insitutes in the UK than any other sign. Just what I needed to read, that was. Most likely as wardens. Har-har!
The new jammie-pants have arrived from Amazon… I think the material is thinner than toilet tissue – Brrr!
TTFNski, thanks Billum.
I had no idea that August Virgonians were fated in this way. The wardens would be the former inmates, of course.
Those jammie-pants might be advertised as being hand-sewn in gossamer. Perhaps yer could just wait for jammie pants to fill up with personal product, then yer take ’em off and throw ’em away. Busy people such as yerself do not have the time to waste on toilet tissue, do they?
I shlould imagine you’re right on the wardens, Billum.
You are so thinking like wot I did over the pants, too!
This Mittenwock, no, Mittwoch morning, I visited the Throne… eurgh! Gooey, sticky mess again! And this is after three rock-solids on the trot. Does you fink it might have been caused by my eating bananas? The dang shop, I ordered one pack of small bananas, and they sent two packs of eight massive ones?
Hey-ho!
Love to the laboratory-surgery household including of course, HRH, your diamond-geezer self, families of, and the furries. ♥
Somehow, WP has absconded my reply…or something. Why do they do such pesky stuff?
Danged annoying innit, Billum? Always after one has amassed a collection of semi-witty stuff, and are pleased with how it is coming along, taking ages to formulate it, and ‘Puff’ – gone! Swineths!
The late, great Loki the Cat was very good at flying over my right shoulder, landing on the keyboard, then traipsing along the keys to effect keyboard shortcuts such as Select All, Delete. Puffeth! Swineherds!
Loki sounds like Lady, she too had a passion for typing with her delicate paws. Haha!
Good olde Lady, name starts with an “L” and has four letters. Proper appelationing practice.
Be that another coincidentalism, Bill? Haha!