The lady waiting for the bus is my mother, Rona Jones nee Jones, my gran lived in Alma, Tabernacle Street, which was a Chapel house, my Nan and Dadcu had to take care of the Chapel across the road, and in those days had to feed and provide an overnight stay for visiting preachers. As a boy I had to go a hundred yards down the road, I had to take a bucket and fill it with water from a stand pipe near a garage, I had to fill a big earthware pot, which took about 10 buckets of water. The toilet was at the bottom of the garden, it had two holes in the top, with two buckets, which had to be emptied every so often. I had to go with my Nan in the dark and empty it into the harbour, the shame every time I think about it now, but it was the done thing in the 1950s.
A memory shared byon Nov 21st, 2009.
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