In the eighties, my uncle owned a small shop in a row of five others with rooms above them built in the 1920’s which also had a shared toilet outside. As a child, I was so scared to go out to the tiny brick shelter that I wouldn’t ‘go’ unless I super had to. It was freezing and dark, home to many spiders and smelt stale. I never met anyone else using the toilet, thankfully.
When the council knocked the whole row down, long after my uncle had passed away, I went to see the demolition and to see goodbye to the toilet that had haunted me.
(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/11/29/1-december-2017 with thanks).
The Story Files 