I see that English Heritage is giving grants of £100 to some who wish to restore their old privvy in the back garden to its former glory. Maybe it is time we all came out of the closet and rebuilt the privvies at the bottom of our gardens. Who knows? They could become like the Aga, a status symbol, a possession essential in keeping up with the Jones. Just imagine what a conversation piece it could be and there are many practical benefits as well… Just think of the kids using it, it would stop them bringing all that mud indoors. At barbecues it would be a boon with friends who have drunk too much of that cheap wine you brought home from holiday abroad could be guided gently toward the privvy rather than to your new bathroom upstair
I see that English Heritage is giving grants of £100 to some who wish to restore their old privvy in the back garden to its former glory. Maybe it is time we all came out of the closet and rebuilt the privvies at the bottom of our gardens. Who knows?
They could become like the Aga, a status symbol, a possession essential in keeping up with the Jones. Just imagine what a conversation piece it could be and there are many practical benefits as well…. Just think of the kids using it, it would stop them bringing all that mud indoors. At barbecues it would be a boon with friends who have drunk too much of that cheap wine you brought home from holiday abroad could be guided gently toward the privvy rather than to your new bathroom upstairs.
Newspaper “scat” up in squares and hung on binder twine on a nail in the door is the obligatory toilet paper for privvies, so the Financial Times would look good and just imagine, the privvy then could be somewhere to check on your share prices. Also just think of all that manure for the garden! There are variations too, a, “bucket or chuck it”, or go the whole hog and have a wooden chest filled with earth, the original privvy. You could carve the seat with as many holes in it as you want in various sizes, and as I remember there was often a pretty design in ventilation holes in the door, it could be a D.I.Y. work of art. To people my age a privvy was something we took for granted, it was the only loo we had. Mind you it was a bit chilly going down the garden on a cold winter’s night with a lantern or flashlight, and a candle on a windy night was a chore. Before the days of air fresheners aromas could be a problem, but we survived and those days gippy tummy bugs were not as common as they are today with all our fancy lavatories.
Men found them a haven and with the local paper at hand to read they were happy out there for hours. My father had a cocker spaniel who joined him daily in the privvy lying at his feet content, in fact he would scratch the door down if he was not allowed in. I well remember in about 1931 we were the first in our small village to have an indoor bathroom, it caused a sensation and Father was so proud of it he kept asking everyone in to see it, talk about launching a ship! In those days flush toilets were few and far between though we were all au fait with a tap as we had to collect our drink-ing water from the standpipe in the village. But, a flush toi-let, now that was something, everyone kept pulling the chain in our new bathroom watching the water flush down it caused great interest. I well remember Mother was not amused and kept complaining that everyone was traipsing up and down the stairs making her canvas dirty. To us it meant no more having to go down the garden at night though we still used the privvy by day. It was a two holler with a lovely polished wooden seat and had this little poem written over the door.
When in this little house you come To do the thing which must be done. Be neat and clean, and something more Please cover the hole and shut the door. I can never remember seeing Father emptying the chest and spreading manure on the gar-den, though it was common practise years ago. I do know that our home grown vegetables were always sweet and deli-cious. A story from 1930 which my cousin told me was about a man who lived in Mount Hawke in a cottage with a long front garden with the privvy situated at the front gate. My cousin and his friend knew that this man always went into the privvy when he came home at night. They waited for him one dark night and as soon as he entered the privvy crept in and tipped it upside down. They were expecting, to hear his shouts and screams, but not a sound came forth, silence reigned and rather spoiled their prank. Though they had better luck with the man who lived at Towan Cross, he always went into his privvy after his nightly visit to the Victory Inn, so they put huge gorse bushes in the box and were delighted to hear the shouts which issued forth as he sat on the throne. Who says that young men did not get up to mis-chief years ago? Who knows, the English Heritage grants may bring back some of the joys of the old days, and the privvy will become as essential and upmarket as the Aga.