Down Bath Row

CAMRA’s Oldest Columnist, Gordon Bunting, continues his look back over life in a Stamford pub during the post-war years…..

Down Bath Row, a short walk from our pub (the Burghley Arms in Sheepmarket), was the Bath House. The building is still there. In those days, many lorries parked overnight in Bath Row and the drivers sought Bed and Breakfast in the pubs. My mother had her regulars – and they all had to have a bath before their supper!

Mrs. Rose owned the baths and she was not one to argue with. You sat in a sparse waiting room in strict number order and waited to be called. There were only two bathrooms, and unless you took your own towel and soap you paid an extra copper to use hers. You got a starched towel (that could strip paint) and a chunk of Sunlight soap. The bathrooms were cathedrallike and when Mrs. Rose opened the door you were engulfed by dense steam from the previous occupant. The whole process was scary – the baths were huge and once in you all but disappeared!

You were allowed ten minutes, after which Mrs. Rose would knock on the door : “Time up!” By this time the steam was like a pea-souper and you were lucky to find your clothes before she hustled you out. Many a time you were out in the street still tucking your shirt in! It was worse in winter as the fog from the Meadows immediately cooled you down……… Most pubs today take central heating for granted, and should you see a fire in a pub it’s probably gas or electric. The Jolly Brewer and Lord Burghley in Stamford are exceptions. But during the post-war years it was coal – and, later, paraffin. Coal came in various grades from quickburning “Bright” to slow-burning stuff that never seemed to take until it was time to go to bed! Most landlords could only afford the low grade, and in one of my regular haunts the landlady kept the fire going on potato peelings and any other vegetable waste ; I never saw any flames there, only smoke.

The winters seemed much colder then – most of the old chaps never took their overcoats off, and there was always a poker in the hearth to warm up their pints. They all smoked pipes and all took snuff – and they all had brown hankies……………….

Gordon Bunting