THE BATHS**

It's Saturday morning, and shouts can be heard coming from
numerous houses on the estate, "Mum? can I have some
money for the baths?"
Within minutes (it's amazing how quickly a mother will part with
her money to get some peace and quiet) a dozen young boys
could be seen running down the steep hill that led from the
estate, occasionally stopping to pick up dropped towels and
swimming costumes.

Standing at the bus stop the boys laughter and chattering grew
louder and louder until it reached a crescendo when, from
around the corner, there appeared, to a mighty cheer from the
boys, THE X43.
The X43!! Every young boys dream, the creamy coloured
double-decker Ribble bus that ran every two hours.
The bus had hardly drawn to a halt before the young boys were
pushing and shoving each other, all desperate to climb the
stairs and take possession of their own driving seat at the front of the bus.

The trip to the neighbouring large town, although only a short
distance, seemed to take forever, for The X43 stopped at
every bus stop along the route (people travelling to
Manchester, a distance of some forty miles, were known to
have stopped overnight in Ramsbottom) and when the boys
disembarked there were audible gasps of relief from all.

The journey from the bus stop to the swimming baths was
made on the run, thankfully in those days traffic was very light
and the only danger was slipping in the piles of horse dung that
littered the streets.

The swimming baths was a large Victorian edifice, now black
and grimy with years of smoke from the houses and nearby
mills. The boys ran up the entrance steps to the glass-
opening(should there be an hyphen there?) in the wall, and
one by one said the words that made Saturday morning
dreams come true, "Child, swimming, please."

To a small child the baths must have seemed enormous. True
it was a large building, a typical Victorian "we've got a large
Empire" building, with a large pool and changing cubicles on
two levels with curtains to hide one's modesty, but which were
never wide enough, obviously having shrunk with many years
in a damp atmosphere, so much time was taken up hopping on
one leg trying to put on/take off clothing whilst trying to close
the gap at each side of the curtain with one hand. One side of
the room was for females and the other for males.


Clothes were quickly removed and swimming costumes put on,
with many ribald comments about willys. Then with a loud
splash a dozen bodies hit the surface of the water as one, to
the consternation of the other occupants of the baths.

Three hours quickly passed, with much laughter, diving and
splashing with the occasional break to try and peep under the
curtains of the female changing cubicles, until a dozen wrinkled
bodies left the pool and rushed to get dressed, for to miss the
bus back meant waiting for two hours for the next one.

The Saturday morning dream was still not finished, for as
always the end of a perfect day was rounded off by purchasing
a meat and potatoe pie which, although piping hot, was
consumed before the bus stop was reached.

The journey home was a subdued affair, the boys energy
having been expended, some even fell asleep possibly to relive
the morning in their dreams.
"Your stop lads" came a shout from the conductor, and the
boys alighted from the X43 and wound their weary way back up
the steep, and getting steeper, hill to the estate.

"Had a good time"?

"Super mum".