in/outside toilet memories
We zoomed pals last Thursday eve. We are not going to see them, so why not.
Our host tells terrible jokes. He also mentioned falling off the toilet, trying to stand. From a Sheffield newsagent's family, he is never without reading material when visiting. Not sure which nerves got trapped in that awkward sitting position, but long enough to produce anaesthesia of prodigious proportions. No information on the fall, if it happened. The major unanswered question remains however ...
This prompted me to relate one of my toilet stories:
My granny lived in Hillhouse as part of a terrace that lined and defined a yard.
Twenty-five metres away, at the bottom of the yard was a long narrow single storey building with six doors, each with its own keyhole. Behind grannie's front door was a nail from which hung neat hand-sized squares of newspaper. A small sewing bobbin and a key also hung there, on a loop of string. A candle too somehow suspended.
The newspaper served two purposes. Much like fish and chip wrapping. No one was ever in that dimly lit ice box down the yard long enough to get a numb bum.
My brother and I were flummoxed by a singular fact however. Behind grannie's door there was only ever one match.
Now another one from Dave Whalley.