Would interest the neighbours, but this is a in fact a vintage bath which is seventy years old and which has just been taken out of the house as Mark is putting in a new bathroom. We are leaving it outside in case the Rag and Bone man wants to come and collect it. We still have a Rag and Bone man round here who comes with a horse and cart who comes round shouting 'rag, bone'. We have a bit of land at the end of the garden which looks a bit like Steptoe's yard with accumulated junk we have no use for but the amount has always stayed static over the years and we have never had to hire the skip we thought we would have needed because the rag and bone man has carted away the surplus. I've always got to be very careful what I give him in case it has something to do with Mark's Landrover, but sometimes it is difficult to tell.
Eleanor and I tried to lift it yesterday and could barely manage to get it a few inches off the floor, it felt like it had been made out of lead. They built things to last in those days. Eleanor had her heelies on and skated up and down in it. Mark had to ask his brother Paul to come and help him shift it and on Friday they were taking one step and then resting and doing breathing exercises like weight lifters, and I can see why.
I will miss this bath, it hold many many memories. It is very narrow (maybe the sizes of baths have increased as people eat more than in the thirties, our new bath looks enormous) and when I was pregnant with Eleanor I used to regularly get stuck in it and the water used to rise an alarming amount when I got in. My body used to form a lock effect, at one side of me the water was on a low level and on the other it was several inches higher and when I got up both levels used to merge together as they do when the lock gates open in a canal gushing in great waves. I used to feel some fellow feeling with the creatures whose plight Bobbie is highlighting at the moment.
Mark has said I've got to be careful with our new bath not to stratch it as it is plastic, not enamel. This means that I will no longer be able to use Ajax as the bath was so old and scratched it didn't really matter anymore, which for those not in the know is a ancient brand of scouring powder which they used in the thirties and still available now (like the bath it was made to last) and is unbeatable as a cleaning agent, but takes a little time and elbow grease, unlike the spray and dissolve ones they have now. Symptomatic of the times. It made me almost feel like a thirties housewife as I polished my thirties bathroom to a sparkling white, though I didn't quite get round to wearing the pinny and turban.