Hidden Treasure
In 1818, 15 years before my (our) house was built, Albert Giblin was granted British patent no. 4990 for the ‘Silent Valveless Water Waste Preventer’. Or ‘the loo’ for short. He worked for one Thomas Crapper and sold the patent, along with the design, to his boss – whose name subsequently became synonymous with its invention. It made Crapper a rich man and once Edward VII had been persuaded to avail himself of this new-fangled invention, it also gifted him a Royal Warrant and a society following.
It’s likely that Rock House was actually built with an inside loo, as the woman who commissioned the building was Elizabeth Blackwell, the first female doctor on the General Medical Register who had trained in America and undoubtedly adopted some of their more ‘modern’ practises.
However, loos, or even baths, weren’t standard issue in Regency homes. Well in to the 20th century, houses were still built with outhouses located some short distance from the back door, often with a glorious display of lilies nearby.
Sadly, there was no sign of Elizabeth Blackwell’s loo by the time I turned the key in the door, although it is quite likely that the room that now houses a rather decrepit 1950s offering, may also have provided her with a comfortable retreat. I imagine that it would have had one of those beautiful high-rise cisterns, resting on wrought-iron brackets complete with stylish chain and wooden handle. The bowl itself would have been rounder than our more contemporary designs and her seat would have been one of those rather regal wooden numbers that say broad and ‘first class’ rather than budget preformed plastic. It is still possible to get these glorious seats, the plumber says, but they aren’t cheap. ‘They get stolen out of houses,’ he told me the other day.
There’s quite a trade in stolen loo seats, apparently. The mind boggles, but as some of them are handmade in mahogany I can see he has a point. The current trend is for self-closing seats, which is a bit of a misnomer. They don’t exactly close themselves – you can’t instruct them to perform tricks for guests – the lids just close very slowly. The plumber also revealed that a few of his clients were going ‘heated’, like swanky car seats, but he wasn’t a fan. ‘Bit of a gimmick,’ he said. He preferred to warm his customers up with an old-fashioned joke. His favourite? ‘My wife and I were married in a toilet – it was a marriage of convenience’
Not as funny as his bill.
Next week: Storytellers
It’s likely that Rock House was actually built with an inside loo, as the woman who commissioned the building was Elizabeth Blackwell, the first female doctor on the General Medical Register who had trained in America and undoubtedly adopted some of their more ‘modern’ practises.
However, loos, or even baths, weren’t standard issue in Regency homes. Well in to the 20th century, houses were still built with outhouses located some short distance from the back door, often with a glorious display of lilies nearby.
Sadly, there was no sign of Elizabeth Blackwell’s loo by the time I turned the key in the door, although it is quite likely that the room that now houses a rather decrepit 1950s offering, may also have provided her with a comfortable retreat. I imagine that it would have had one of those beautiful high-rise cisterns, resting on wrought-iron brackets complete with stylish chain and wooden handle. The bowl itself would have been rounder than our more contemporary designs and her seat would have been one of those rather regal wooden numbers that say broad and ‘first class’ rather than budget preformed plastic. It is still possible to get these glorious seats, the plumber says, but they aren’t cheap. ‘They get stolen out of houses,’ he told me the other day.
There’s quite a trade in stolen loo seats, apparently. The mind boggles, but as some of them are handmade in mahogany I can see he has a point. The current trend is for self-closing seats, which is a bit of a misnomer. They don’t exactly close themselves – you can’t instruct them to perform tricks for guests – the lids just close very slowly. The plumber also revealed that a few of his clients were going ‘heated’, like swanky car seats, but he wasn’t a fan. ‘Bit of a gimmick,’ he said. He preferred to warm his customers up with an old-fashioned joke. His favourite? ‘My wife and I were married in a toilet – it was a marriage of convenience’
Not as funny as his bill.
Next week: Storytellers