Although Cecil had access to the modern bath of the time, most were using the tin one in front of the fire.
Ken—How primitive were the toilet and bathing arrangements?
Cecil—Well I lived in a house into which, I suppose, old grandfather Culver had put all the latest knowledge. We had a hot water system. It worked when I first arrived, but it had its problems, and it was driven off the register stove. There was a boiler at the back. We had a bath which was taken out only a few years ago. It was a cast iron affair, enamelled over, and stood on legs. There was a flush lavatory and we were connected to the sewer.
Ken—Oh, you had advantages beyond a lot of people.
Cecil—Very up to date. There were many places, I believe, who were not connected to the sewer, who had some sort of a tank. There were a lot of houses that had a soakaway in the grounds. Some looked after themselves and others had to be pumped out from time to time. There were a couple of Lavender Jims around here that used to pump out the septic tanks.
Ken—I also believe, in those days, they didn’t have those luxurious soft toilet rolls and toilet tissues.
Terror was waiting for you in the outside loo. Izal; shiny and sharp.
Cecil—Oh no. Rather not. The small boys’ tasks were to cut up the newspaper into appropriate-sized squares and hang them up in the loo. The first toilet paper I remember came in packets and that was quite early on. I suppose the local chemist was selling those sort of things and trying to push them. They were more expensive than cutting up the newspapers but some folk did prefer them. I remember these brown packets of toilet paper we had. In France they had the same sort of things in packets in a dispenser but the only was that they were like bits of greaseproof paper. They just didn’t do anything.