This thread drawn up a lot of memories for me
When I was a teenager, my Mam and I used to spend most of our Sunday afternoons visiting a great-aunt who lived in a small cottage on the foothills of Snowdon. I wasn't keen on visiting her loo. It was a small shed overlooking the field next to the cottage and was the original privy (non-flush) with pieces of newspaper treaded on a string and hung behind the door. She didn't have any running water in the house either, just a tap in the farmyard.
It's amazing how she managed. I think she relied on her sister in law and the postman for her food shop (postman had his own chickens, so eggs were plentiful), and she always gave us an afternoon tea with (tinned) salmon sandwiches, tinned fruit and a homemade cake.
In the late '70s she was struggling to cope and moved into a home. She thought she was in heaven, with an en suite and all 'mod cons'.
She also gave me a gold ring with small garnets embedded in it. I love it partly because it reminds me of Auntie Maggie, but also for the story behind it. Her father had found the ring whilst ploughing. I've often wondered how such a lovely ring ended up in a remote field in Snowdonia.