'OUTSIDE TOILET': BEING A CHILD IN 1950s BIRMINGHAM...

Outside Toilet

Five yards or so through the yard

A brick-built lavatory lingered, its cold wooden seat

Uninviting;

One yard or so below the cistern

A handle on a chain hovered, its sway corrupt and

Revolting…

I was expected to shout for my dad,

Which always left me feeling contrite:

“Da-ad, I’ve fin-ished…” in a shrill child’s pitch,

Frightened, uncomfortable, early every day;

But the harsh, unforgiving newspaper

Offered little, if any respite,

As it crumpled and printed on my buttocks

Then refused to be flushed away…

Pete Ray

December 2016

BEHIND THE SHED (WAS IT ONCE AN ANDERSON SHELTER?) AND BELOW THE UNION FLAGS IS THE OUTSIDE TOILET...

THAT BACK GARDEN AGAIN...

BAMVILLE ROAD, WARD END BIRMINGHAM.
MY MUM WOULD LEAVE ME OUTSIDE IN THE PRAM HOPING THAT SOMEONE WOULD ABDUCT ME, I PRESUME...

Lived in Ward End, Birmingham, with my parents in my nan’s house until I was nearly seven years old.

No indoor loo.

Hence having to troop outside to pee and poo…

Hated having to bellow for my dad, who made sure my butt had been cleaned properly, until one day, I did it myself with the newspaper toilet ‘tissue’, probably making sure that I used the bit with a Manchester United match report on it, yelled for dad but then raced from the lavatory and hid.

Dad walked past me and I nipped into the house.

That was a rare victory for me.

Dad even treated games of Draughts like he was representing Great Britain at the Olympic Games.

Gods, do I lose well, though…