A Good Shower.

The thing is Boy, 

Yes, YES! I did need a shower this morning, and bloody lovely it was.
Aye cracking........
Let me tell you three things I got just right with my shower this morning.
First of it was HOT.
Not warm, definitely not lukers, as you said when you where a lad, but bloody lovely and hot.
Like the shower after a shift in The Pit. 
Now, notice the capitals there, on The Pit.
Not to make it a loud word, I am simply showing due respect to The Pit.
I spent enough years down that colliery to owe it that due respect.
The Pit indeed.

Secondly, there was enough water.
In my shower, not the mine now, pay attention!
It can be hard for folk to hang on to my words, I digress so much, hanging on to my words is like trying to grab a slimy mackerel on a sunny day at Porthcawl Pier.
Now that is a ditry pier, due to littering.
And fishing.
Speaking as a fisherman, with you will notice, a  SMALL f, as I do not profess a great degree of skill in that area, but speaking as a fisherman, I will admit that there is an occasional tendency towards the dropping of litter.
On the pier, that is.
Quite likely elsewhere as well, but then I only fish the pier, see.

Anyway, yes, water.
Enough of it.
Not a bloody half-hearted trickle, an apologetic drip, but a deluge!
Fair flooded me out, it did. 
Bloody marvellous.
Smashing.

Now, there was a third good thing.....
Ahh. THAT was it..
Someone to scrub my back.
Very important indeed.
You see, in The Pit, or at least, in the colliery shower, after a shift, we had good showers.
Hot, they were. Hot and wet, and we would stand there, warming ourselves under the water. 
By Christ, my arms were sore after a day on my side with a pick.
And the soap was hard too, like a ruddy brick.
But the water helped see, took the pain away, it did.
Aye, and all the Boys, we would wash each others backs.
That was the way then.
In the showers.
Aye.
I new my mate's backs better than my missus'
Thirty years scrubbing them.
"Whiter than white" I would say.
When they asked me.
"How is my back Bryn?"
"Whiter than white".
Aye
Good days.

Now this shower.
A bloody good one too, It was today.
The Girl who comes in got it just right.
Halfway between five and five and a quarter.
Bang on.
And she washed my back.
Not as hard as the boys would have done,
but good enough for a youngster.
Not bad at all.

All in all, a good shower.
And that means a good day.
I can wheel my chair to look out the front later.

You'll pardon me for going now,
but I have to go to the bathroom see.
A big bloody task for me now.
Still, no-one in till teatime, and I can manage,
if I take it slow.

And thursday I get another shower.
And I will tell you about the days in The Pit again.

Author's Note

A Good Shower.
The thing is Boy,
Yes, YES! I did need a shower this morning, and bloody lovely it was.
Aye cracking........
Let me tell you three things I got just right with my shower this morning.
First of it was HOT.
Not warm, definitely not lukers, as you said when you where a lad, but bloody lovely and hot.
Like the shower after a shift in The Pit.
Now, notice the capitals there, on The Pit.
Not to make it a loud word, I am simply showing due respect to The Pit.
I spent enough years down that colliery to owe it that due respect.
The Pit indeed.

Secondly, there was enough water.
In my shower, not the mine now, pay attention!
It can be hard for folk to hang on to my words, I digress so much, hanging on to my words is like trying to grab a slimy mackerel on a sunny day at Porthcawl Pier.
Now that is a ditry pier, due to littering.
And fishing.
Speaking as a fisherman, with you will notice, a SMALL f, as I do not profess a great degree of skill in that area, but speaking as a fisherman, I will admit that there is an occasional tendency towards the dropping of litter.
On the pier, that is.
Quite likely elsewhere as well, but then I only fish the pier, see.

Anyway, yes, water.
Enough of it.
Not a bloody half-hearted trickle, an apologetic drip, but a deluge!
Fair flooded me out, it did.
Bloody marvellous.
Smashing.

Now, there was a third good thing.....
Ahh. THAT was it..
Someone to scrub my back.
Very important indeed.
You see, in The Pit, or at least, in the colliery shower, after a shift, we had good showers.
Hot, they were. Hot and wet, and we would stand there, warming ourselves under the water.
By Christ, my arms were sore after a day on my side with a pick.
And the soap was hard too, like a ruddy brick.
But the water helped see, took the pain away, it did.
Aye, and all the Boys, we would wash each others backs.
That was the way then.
In the showers.
Aye.
I new my mate's backs better than my missus'
Thirty years scrubbing them.
"Whiter than white" I would say.
When they asked me.
"How is my back Bryn?"
"Whiter than white".
Aye
Good days.

Now this shower.
A bloody good one too, It was today.
The Girl who comes in got it just right.
Halfway between five and five and a quarter.
Bang on.
And she washed my back.
Not as hard as the boys would have done,
but good enough for a youngster.
Not bad at all.

All in all, a good shower.
And that means a good day.
I can wheel my chair to look out the front later.

You'll pardon me for going now,
but I have to go to the bathroom see.
A big bloody task for me now.
Still, no-one in till teatime, and I can manage,
if I take it slow.

And thursday I get another shower.
And I will tell you about the days in The Pit again.
Meant to be read in a Welsh accent.
As in Pontrhydyfen.
Not like Richard Burton, who was from Pontrhydyfen, but in the accent the rest of the folk speak.
Bloody lovely it is too.