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> Home Made Tales, The journey
peter.howden
post Y'day, 08:22pm
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The Baby bath Finale ;
Part three

In 75,76 and 77,when the winters came in, bringing snow aplenty, Toni, Chris, Nikki and I, plus the family mutt ‘Titch’, took to the slopes opposite the Chapel at the local football pitch’s. This was an unrepeatable special time, but memories are around, never to forget. For these occasions, the old blue bath was turned into a sledge, hurling all the way down Glassel Road (except Nikki) which certainly sent the juices running, dicey and icy.

Our faithful pooch barking like a banshee, with her paws losing control of her sliding ass…in a most undignified manner. We were out all hours or until the clothing, used for protection, were now totally drenched throughout. The children were absolutely saturated to the skin, but desperate to tell their mum what daring adventures took place and how many times they cruised down in the old pliable bath. The tingling feeling as soon as you entered the warmth of the home is still with me to this very day, along with the sight of Titch trying to catch snow balls flung from whoever was racing down in the brood’s bath at the time.

Delightful squeals coming from the children, running up and down the bare hall, displaying red rosy cheeks, both sets, while dragging loose towels ready for use. Sometimes I took a bath with them; one at a time… which they thought was an extra treat. I would play submarines, or boat battles using anything at hand, usually a couple of yellow ducks for I was every inch a bigger wean than our kids. I still have those original ducks but the family have grown. It was off the cuff…guiltless precious bonding moments. Sadly, today… this innocent fun would be seriously frowned on.

Time was running out for the blue baby bath as the children grew older, and a real danger of being tossed out, when… I had another idea. I decided to place it in the very far corner of the garden, sheltered by the communal wall. I had seen on one of the garden programmes some expensive ponds made for the shrubbery. Just like ‘Bleu Peter’; I set about creating a homemade pond. Perhaps the neighbours thought it was ‘Crackerjack’ but I persisted and though I say it myself, it was not bad at all.

Within a short period of time we discovered frogs settling inside the safety of the corner, the rockery in the bath and the pleasure of water changed at regular intervals by a cunning system of old plastic tubes and using the overflow pipe of the cludgie.

Last time I saw our little saviour was when glancing at our garden, before moving yet again, though this time to another area called Barlanark. The faithful servant was now covered by green moss, as the wonders of nature, cosily finding it niche.

As I strayed for one last glance, I am not ashamed to admit to a tear in my eye.
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