I was there at lots of things. When I was young it seemed that lots of things happened and I was there to watch.
I want to relate as to how I was there before indoor plumbing.
My first memories are from the late 40’s. People were still recovering from the war and the depression. They were more or less still living under depression standards.
All during the 30’s unemployed men had walked up and down the roads between towns looking for work or charity. My extended family had managed to keep house and hearth intact but some of them lived pretty rough. Not all had running water. Living conditions for the most part were hard. Money was scarce.
We sometimes visited my mother's sister. She and her family lived in a rented house that could be called primitive. It had no running water. The house was not lined and some of the weatherboards had spaces between the boards so you could see through. It had no hot water. It had a bathroom with a primitive bath. It had a copper for heating water and washing clothes. Water was used several times. Clothes were washed first. Then dishes. Then people. All heated up in the copper. Of course water was added when needed by bringing buckets from the tank outside and put into the copper.
For many men their first full time job was when they joined the Army.
My father joined up at the first opportunity. He married my mother when in uniform. She lived with her family and received a portion of his Army pay when he was away. When he returned from the war he joined several organisations - RSL - ex POW - British Legion - Masonic Lodge. He always held some official position in all these organisations.
But all this is but background.
My father and a colleague had convinced another ex serviceman to move from his camp on the river to a hut that was near another ex serviceman's farm. This ex serviceman had lived rough before the war but had seen action several times and was well respected by his fellow ex servicemen. It was said he was mentioned in Dispatches. After the war he had gone back to living rough in a camp isolated near the head of the river. He was persuaded to come back and live where they could keep an eye on him.
My father took me with him when he and the colleague visited the man to see how he was getting on. The man said he wasn't better off at all. He didn't know if he would stay or move back to his camp. He spoke in a firm tone. He said he didn't like the bloke who owned the place. They shouldnt interfere.
I had never seen another man talk to my father in this manner and I was intrigued. My father and his friend went off to talk by themselves. I stayed and watched the man. He said he was getting ready for a funeral. He pointedly said he could not stop what he was doing to look after me. But I was intrigued and just stayed to watch him without saying anything.
I stood at the door looking in. He had a primitive stove with a kettle. He had what appeared to be a babies bath half filled with water. He brought the kettle to the babies bath and poured the hot water in. He took off his shirt and started to shave. He had a mug and a small mirror in his hand. He walked to the door and threw the waste from the razor out the door after he scraped his face. I had to get out of way. The man didn't seem to care. He then put a flannel in the water and soaped it up. He vigorously wiped all his head and face with the soapy flannel. He then leant down and put his head in the babies bath and put his face and head under the water. He then wiped his head clean of soap and water with a separate towel.
He then told me he was shutting the door as he was taking off his clothes. I heard him step into the babies bath. I heard him rub his flannel in the water. He made noises as he rubbed himself down. I could hear the rubbing of the flannel. I heard water dripping back into the babies bath. `I could hear water dripping on the floor. I imagined water to be going everywhere.
Shortly he opened the door.
I hardly recognised it was the same bloke.
He was wearing a suit and tie and he was combing his hair. He looked very different. He looked normal - even smart. His suit was blue and resembled the suit my uncle wore. He had put on shoes and socks. The shoes were a shiny dark brown and looked expensive.
He then carried the babies bath outside and threw the water on the garden.
I watched the whole time until my father came back. Of course I was intrigued. This man must have lived like this every day.
I was there when people lived without indoor plumbing.
Neville Gibb
February 2025
I want to relate as to how I was there before indoor plumbing.
My first memories are from the late 40’s. People were still recovering from the war and the depression. They were more or less still living under depression standards.
All during the 30’s unemployed men had walked up and down the roads between towns looking for work or charity. My extended family had managed to keep house and hearth intact but some of them lived pretty rough. Not all had running water. Living conditions for the most part were hard. Money was scarce.
We sometimes visited my mother's sister. She and her family lived in a rented house that could be called primitive. It had no running water. The house was not lined and some of the weatherboards had spaces between the boards so you could see through. It had no hot water. It had a bathroom with a primitive bath. It had a copper for heating water and washing clothes. Water was used several times. Clothes were washed first. Then dishes. Then people. All heated up in the copper. Of course water was added when needed by bringing buckets from the tank outside and put into the copper.
For many men their first full time job was when they joined the Army.
My father joined up at the first opportunity. He married my mother when in uniform. She lived with her family and received a portion of his Army pay when he was away. When he returned from the war he joined several organisations - RSL - ex POW - British Legion - Masonic Lodge. He always held some official position in all these organisations.
But all this is but background.
My father and a colleague had convinced another ex serviceman to move from his camp on the river to a hut that was near another ex serviceman's farm. This ex serviceman had lived rough before the war but had seen action several times and was well respected by his fellow ex servicemen. It was said he was mentioned in Dispatches. After the war he had gone back to living rough in a camp isolated near the head of the river. He was persuaded to come back and live where they could keep an eye on him.
My father took me with him when he and the colleague visited the man to see how he was getting on. The man said he wasn't better off at all. He didn't know if he would stay or move back to his camp. He spoke in a firm tone. He said he didn't like the bloke who owned the place. They shouldnt interfere.
I had never seen another man talk to my father in this manner and I was intrigued. My father and his friend went off to talk by themselves. I stayed and watched the man. He said he was getting ready for a funeral. He pointedly said he could not stop what he was doing to look after me. But I was intrigued and just stayed to watch him without saying anything.
I stood at the door looking in. He had a primitive stove with a kettle. He had what appeared to be a babies bath half filled with water. He brought the kettle to the babies bath and poured the hot water in. He took off his shirt and started to shave. He had a mug and a small mirror in his hand. He walked to the door and threw the waste from the razor out the door after he scraped his face. I had to get out of way. The man didn't seem to care. He then put a flannel in the water and soaped it up. He vigorously wiped all his head and face with the soapy flannel. He then leant down and put his head in the babies bath and put his face and head under the water. He then wiped his head clean of soap and water with a separate towel.
He then told me he was shutting the door as he was taking off his clothes. I heard him step into the babies bath. I heard him rub his flannel in the water. He made noises as he rubbed himself down. I could hear the rubbing of the flannel. I heard water dripping back into the babies bath. `I could hear water dripping on the floor. I imagined water to be going everywhere.
Shortly he opened the door.
I hardly recognised it was the same bloke.
He was wearing a suit and tie and he was combing his hair. He looked very different. He looked normal - even smart. His suit was blue and resembled the suit my uncle wore. He had put on shoes and socks. The shoes were a shiny dark brown and looked expensive.
He then carried the babies bath outside and threw the water on the garden.
I watched the whole time until my father came back. Of course I was intrigued. This man must have lived like this every day.
I was there when people lived without indoor plumbing.
Neville Gibb
February 2025
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