Our throne room was out the back. We had neither a long drop or weekly collection. We had a can under the seat that dad had to dig a hole and bury each week or more often if we had visitors. If the old fella was away, the task fell to my brother and me. When we first started, the can was too heavy for one of us, so we had to both carry it out to the hole we had dug. To this day, I have a chronic aversion to crap.
When it comes to food, we had the basics and ate what was put on the plate. Still hate cabbage, collieflower, spinach. Like Morris, we had toast and dripping when butter was scarce. Wasn't bad with pepper and salt. I kept chooks so we had a roast chicken dinner about once a month and as a delicacy, occasionally mum would buy half a pigs head which had been "cured". Poor mans ham.
In town we had a choice of fish and chips/ scallops, (with or without vinegar), as salt was mandatory, hamburgers and in the late '60s, a chinses restaurant opened with a menu of about ten choices. We thought we had hit the big time and the town had come of age.
Life was simpler then. We made our own fun, worked together and we all survived.
