The Tin Bath

We've a tin 'bath' hanging on the wall.  Not sure where this one came from and not really a bath as such but it does trigger strong and happy memories of full size tin baths at my grandmother's farmers cottage in Essex when I were a lad.

I remember happy moments making ripples in the selection of tin baths that were outside by the sheds as water butts.  We really knew how to enjoy ourselves before X-Boxes.

There was much quirkiness of the cottage that I didn't recognise for what it was at the time.  The single standpipe outside the door being the only running water; the fire in the range being the sole heating and the hob and the oven; a distinctive smell that I now recognise as damp.

But there were walks with Dad to the river, or to the woods, or the ruined church; a huge productive garden with a massive pear tree; shooting down walnuts with an air rifle (don't think I ever hit one), and being allowed to split firewood - short lengths into kindling with such a distinctive sound and feel.  Still have, and use, that bill hook.