Bath Time
My grandfather took a bath once a year, On New Year’s Eve, so he could be ready, so he said, washed and clean, for the New Year. His bath day / birthday was a family event. If we wanted a bath, well the bath water didn’t stay hot for long in the bath-tub at the top of the house, under the rafters, so an old tin bath was dragged into the kitchen and a black, iron kettle was placed on the hob, and water was boiled. One by one, we were immersed, and scrubbed, to emerge pink and glossy. All this happened in the kitchen in front of the fireplace, where we sat up wrapped in bath-robes and blankets, drinking hot cocoa so we wouldn’t catch cold. But my grandfather took his bath at the top of the house, under the rafters, in the old chipped enamel tub with its lion-claw feet, water-stained sides, and its old brass taps. He walked up there fully clothed, walked into the bathroom, and shut the door behind him, drawing the bolt with a finality that shut us all out. He sang the great choruses from Aida, and Nabucco, and we imagined him, wallowing there, in the warm water, with all his clothes on, for it was hard to imagine my grandfather naked. Then, half an hour later, he would emerge, looking just like he did when he walked into the bathroom. We never heard the water running, nor did we hear it draining away. All we heard was the The Hebrew Slaves’ Chorus and my grandfather swinging his Blacksmith’s hammer as he battered at the New Year’s Anvil.
Comment: I didn’t have a photo of an old bath tub in my collection, so the lead picture is one of Geoff Slater’s murals: a buoy (pronounced ‘boy’ in Wales), taking a bath in the sea. Let me know if you like these Welsh childhood memories, and I will keep adding to them. They are certainly fun to write and I find incredible the many ways in which memories surge as I am learning to speak Welsh. Each new chapter in my journey seems to start a new wave of thought.
rogermoorepoet 
This is such an interesting piece. Thank you for sharing it.😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. Old tin baths: they don’t make them like they used to!
LikeLike
Hahaha! Indeed…😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Too funny, Roger! I’ve known many people, mostly male, who took one bath per year, but that’s the plus side of being old! The memories are still golden even as the hair becomes salt and pepper or even worse, dirty gray colored. And yes, I would love to read your memories, she says while feeling guilty for not writing mine down for the ones who may have forgotten.
BTW, it is pronounced “boy” in Kentucky also!
LikeLiked by 1 person
In the Maritimes it is pronounced boo-ee, like coo-ee! It’s a lovely painting and Geoff is a great artist as well as a very good friend. I’ll keep those memories coming … and don’t forget to write down your own: they are precious.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve always written some down each year, Roger. Most of them now are re-runs of the first year of blogging. Just don’t ask me how long ago that was — I don’t remember that part!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I do re-runs too, but I usually revise when I do it, so they evolve as I evolve.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Mine do that too. I find weak places that I can now use other phrases in place of the original. In one case I think I had a completely new poem when I finished revising. Makes it interesting though.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The new poems are great. It’s funny how texts can generate new texts.
LikeLiked by 1 person
And I’m grateful they do. I guess I’m growing up!
LikeLiked by 1 person