In about '53, in Holly St, my dad had the old bog and coal house replaced with a bathroom. WE got an Ascot, hot water, the whole five yards. Funnily enough I cannot remember the work being done. You would have thought that the disruption would have left a memory.
But I do still remember the origional old cold, dark netty, the newspaper on the nail. The days when it froze up despite the little oil burner whose job it was to keep it flowing.
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