READER LETTER: Have they got more than one backside?

Ron Green wants to know whether those bulk-buying toilet roll have two backsides Picture: Deni

Ron Green wants to know whether those bulk-buying toilet roll have two backsides Picture: Denise Bradley - Credit: copyright: Archant 2014

Ron Green

Ron Green's mum had first dibs on using as loo roll any newspaper with Hitler on it Photo: Britis

Ron Green's mum had first dibs on using as loo roll any newspaper with Hitler on it Photo: British Pathe - Credit: PA/British Pathe PLC

Old Palace Road

Norwich

What a pity people are grabbing all the toilet rolls - have they got more than one backside?

I’m 86 years old and recall having to use newspaper, as we were bombed out and had to leave Norwich and live just west of Wymondham.


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We had an outside toilet: a plank with two holes, with square pieces of newspaper hanging on a nail.

If there was a photo of Adolf Hitler, us kids were not allowed to use it, as it my mother’s one pleasure to wipe her backside with it.

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There would be a bucket under each of these holes in the toilet, and when they were full I had to take them down the garden, then tip the contents down a hole about a foot deep.

When any new evacuees arrived, this hole would be covered with twigs and a bit of grass, and they would be asked to see this dicky bird’s nest - but they’d never get that far. Instead they’d be initiated into the countryside.

Then the unfortunates would be told to have a slosh round in the River Tiffey while Mum would get the water hot on the paraffin stove for a bath outside: a tin bath.

You had to be wary in gardens, always being asked: “Would you like to see this dicky bird’s nest?” I found that out.

Children these days are lucky with lots of sweets and chocolate. I recall in 1942 just one Kit Kit a week - that’s just one of the four segments each.

I was at Browick School, Wymondham aged eight and we went in file along the Norwich Road to the secondary modern to have our dinners, and opposite where Morrisons is now there used to be an orchard.

Two London evacuees and myself having never seen apples on trees before, we went in one end, grabbed a few, quickly came out the other end. Wymondham boys were too frightened. Got caught: apples confiscated.

Back at the Browick School a teacher said: “You three - headmistress’s office.”

Well there on the corner of her desk was a little pile of green apples. She said: “Did any Wymondham children go in?”

“No,” we said in unison, “they were too scared.”

“Well,” she said, “that was because they knew it was my orchard. Hold your hands out - both hands.” At this point I noticed the little lad next to me wet himself all over her carpet. I thought: “Good, we’ve got our own back before getting the cane.”

Luck for us, we never got the cane. Instead she put a little green apple in each hand and said: “You know there’s a war on and we must not waste food. Eat them.” Well, we had a bite into them and found that little green apples were hard and sour.

She had a wry smile on her face, saying: “Right that’s enough, now get back to your class,” and going out the door shouted: “Let that be a lesson to you.”

I was to come up against her twice more but, as they say, that’s another story.

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