Today
Yesterday was a pretty sweaty day. Firstly an hour at the gym, so, when I returned I had a lovely bath.
Later we played badminton. I did beat Paul 2:1 but it was quite tough and he had me running all over the court.
Back home I said "I'm so disgusting I think I'll have another bath". Which I did. Put on some nicer clothes and was fine for the evening.
In My Day
Our great Victorian pile was not lived in by us alone. We had tenants in about 2 floors of it. They mostly had flatlets consisting of two rooms and kitchenette. What they didn't have was the then unthinkable luxury of en-suite. Instead, on the first floor landing there was a single toilet for the use of first floor tenants and a separate bathroom which was shared by us and these same tenants.
The bathroom was pretty large and contained a bath and a basin. On the floor was lino and there was a cork bathmat. The room was heated by a paraffin heater (it smelled vile) which I was afraid to use. The bath was heated by a gas contraption called a "geyser". Quite frankly, it acted like one, giving you water of an unpredictable temperature with much spluttering and roaring. The gas flames flared and blazed as the water poured into the bath. It would probably be condemned today.
So, having a bath was a bit of an adventure and only happened once a week at most. The idea that you would nip up and bathe twice a day was unthinkable. In fact I think that Mamma thought that too much bathing was bad for you.
The room wasn't too secure either, so one bathed in the constant anxiety that Mr Nash (A bachelor tenant who gave no evidence that he bathed at all) would come in. In fact, I remember Julia Lawrence, who brought up 4 children in the other two bedroomed flatlet, actually did come in to get some washing that she'd left to dry and was very brisk about my modest shudderings.
I was amazed to discover that friends at school bathed every day - it seemed impossible. I never admitted to them what my arrangements were like. and I hope I didn't actually smell.
What I can't understand is how the other women at my body conditioning class maintain full make-up and don't produce so much as a single bead of sweat.
1 comment:
I remember that bathroom well! It also had a wonderful square cork-seated stool with a hinged lid: so warm to sit on.
There was a triangular cupboard in the corner of the room, which always helped me visualise that poem about Miss Twye most accurately...
Then there was the miracle of the slot meter. It took pennies (and sixpences I think) but the pennies were the interesting thing. With the key to the little padlock, you could hoist off this heavy coinbox, tip all the coins out on the floor and rummage through it for those fascinatingly smoothed out things called bun pennies. If you were lucky you could make out the date, and add them to your collection. Needless to say, all takingly were scrupulously paid for out of pocket!
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