My parents were really loving, wonderful parents, but there is no disputing that we were poor. We lived in the Meadows in Nottingham. In later years, Jimmy Young was asked to read out a request for someone who lived in the Meadows area of Nottingham and said that it sounded a lovely place! All the Nottingham people who heard that burst out laughing: the Meadows was one of the two worst slum areas in Nottingham. It was all two and three storey terraced houses with the Great Central railway line passing overhead on a viaduct.

Instead of swimming lessons at primary school, we were taken once a week to Manvers Street public baths so that we had a bath at least once a week during school time. We certainly didn't have a bath at home and hot water was boiled on a kettle on the gas stove. Our toilet was at the bottom of the yard, shared with several other families along with sharing the communal water tap which sometimes froze in winter despite the sacking wrapped around it to stop this from happening.

It's all gone now - the railway, the worst of the slum houses. Some were improved with hot water, central heating and an inside toilet and bathroom, but most were swept away in a huge slum clearance programme. But the memories still remain.

Our parents struggled to keep us clean, unlike many of the children who were always dirty and the teachers, except after bath day, often used to keep the windows in our classroom open to stop themselves gagging from the smell of some of the children. We were always scrubbed clean each morning and our mother always seemed to be washing.

I haven't introduced myself - how rude of me! My name is John and my older sister was Jane -hardly inspiring names, but they were ours. One day, Jane was given a letter to take home for our parents. We were both a bit fearful in case it said we'd done something bad but, despite racking our brains, we couldn't think of anything bad we'd done lately. Jane gave it to mum who put it on top of the fireplace for dad to open when he came home from work. He worked a the Raleigh bike factory and come home by one of the trolley buses along Arkwright Street and then walked to our home from there. He came home and mum gave him the letter. He opened it and smiled at us as we stood there waiting for the worst. "You're going to Skegness on holiday in two weeks!" Jane and I looked at each other in wonder. We'd never been on holiday before. In the summer, we played on Victoria Embankment like the other children in the area, being careful not to fall into the River Trent, this being the only green area in the whole of the Meadows - not like in Victorian times when it had been water meadows and full of crocuses in the spring. The only flowers in the Meadows those days were the dandelions growing up between cracks in the blue brick pavements. Dad went on to say that the council had a holiday home in Skegness and a certain number of children went there during the summer months for two week's holiday and apparently it was our turn. We jsut stood opened eyed with surprise until Jane said, "Can we go, Dad? Can we go, really?" Dad ruffled her hair, "Of course you can! It's free and we don;t have to provide you with anything apparently. You'll get swimming costumes, plimsolls and other clothing when you get there." We were thrilled and couldn't wait for the two weeks to pass.

When the day came, mum tied the labels on us which the school had given us. These had our names on them and were our 'pass' to the holiday. Mum took us to Arkwright Street where we caught a trolley bus to Parliament Street. We got off and crossed the road to walk the short distance to Victoria Station with its huge clock tower - sadly now the only part of it left. We were met in the booking hall with a crowd of other people and the carers from the children's holiday home in Skegness. We were in groups of five with each carer who checked our labels off on their lists until we were all gathered. We were told to kiss our mothers 'Good bye' and then were led across the bridge and down onto the platforms. Victoria Station was a huge cathedral of a station in a big hole in the ground. We were taken to the platform furthest from the booking hall, the one nearest Glasshouse Street where what I now know was a B1 class 4-6-0 steam locomotive was at the head of a train of red coaches. Some of these were marked specially for us and 'our' carer took us to one of the reversed compartments. There she introduced herself to us as the carer who would be responsible for us during our holiday and told us that we couldn't use the toilet in the station but, if we needed to 'go' we were to let her know and she'd take us to the toilet on the train. We sat there full of excitement and looked out of the window of the coach as long freight trains passed through the station as well as the arrival and departure of passenger trains.

Suddenly the guard's whistle blew and the train slowly began to move off under the Parliament Street bridge and then the short tunnel under Thurland Street. At Weekday Cross, we emerged from the tunnel and took the left fork towards Grantham. The train journey was a delight in itself as Jane and I had never been out of Nottingham ever and certainly hadn't been on a train!

The journey was a joy as we passed through all sorts of wonderful places and the carer pointed some of them out to us. Boston Stump remains as one of them which stuck in mu mind to this day. Eventually we arrived at Skegness. We were led off the train in our groups of five and shepherded to a waiting double decker bus which took us to the holiday home right on the sea front. It was a beautiful summer day - the sort we don't seem to have so often now, or perhaps it was the eyes of youth which made it seem that way. We all saw the sea for the first time in our lives and the beach which looked so wonderful as other children played on it.

We were all got off the bus and led into a large room with tables with oil cloth covers and large enough to take six chairs around each. We were sat down in our groups of five and our carers went to get us our lunch. Jane and I ate politely as we'd been taught at home, but some children at other tables just shovelled their food in and gobbled it down. After lunch we were all sent to play in the large fenced garden at the back of the home. We were promised a walk along the front that evening and the chance to play on the beach the next day The carers left us playing in the garden with a carer who'd been at the home when we arrived. One by one 'our' carer' called us inside. We were taken upstairs to the dormitories and bathrooms. There my clothes were removed and our carer gave me a hot bath. There were two chairs in the bathroom. On one was a pile of towels, a bowl full of water and a strange device which had a red rubber bulb at the bottom and a black nozzle sticking out of the top. The nurse was wearing an ankle length rubber apron and rubber gloves. After bathing me, she dried me on one of the towels, sat down on the spare chair and placed the other towel over her lap.

She checked my hair for lice and then, putting me across her lap, protected by her large rubber apron and towel, she told be that she was going to squirt some soapy water into my bottom to make me have a bowel movement (she called it "Do your number 2's") as she needed to check to see if I had worms. With one rubber gloved hand , she parted my buttocks and inserted a nozzle. I experienced my first bulb enema as she filled the bulb syringe from a basin beside her after she'd squirted its contents inside me. When she decided I'd taken enough, she placed me on an enamel potty and told me to let it all out. I was amazed at just how much came out of me! She inspected the result and pronounced that I didn't have worms - which she said was good. I was puzzled as I'd seen worms when my dad had gone fishing and sometimes had taken me with him, but I didn't know how the worms would get inside me.

After that, she carefully wiped my bottom for me and dressed me in new clothes with my name on the labels sewn into them! I got a brand new pair of plimsolls to wear too and was taken to the large play room where the children who had already been 'treated' were. I guessed later that we were separated for a couple of reasons: one was that we were clean and the children about to be bathed weren't, and secondly that we wouldn't be telling them what to expect.

When we'd all been treated, it was time for tea and what a tea! Fish and chips all round with trifle afterwards. A real treat! As promised, we were taken for a short walk along the sea front and, to our delight as well, we were all bought a large ice cream. I'd never had one before, but, seeing the faces of the children when they bit into theirs, I knew it must be good!

Back at the home, and exhausted after a very strange day - a train trip for the first time, seeing the sea, and the bathing and syringing - we were taken to the play room and given a large mug of cocoa to help us sleep. After we'd drunk the cocoa, the youngest were taken away from each group by that group's carer. Soon it was my turn and I was very surprised! I was taken into the bathroom and encouraged to clean my teeth with a toothbrush with my name on it. The carer asked if I knew how to use a toothbrush - my sister and I did, but apparently many of the children didn't.

Over the bath was a cover and I was told to take all my clothes off and lie on the cover on the bath. She then proceeded to put thick nappies on me. She explained that, as some of the children would wet the bed, all children were put in nappies and rubber pants each night 'just in case'. I had been told by my mum to behave myself and do as I was told, so I didn't struggle or argue. It felt really strange to be put back in nappies and the semi-transparent rubber pants which fitted tightly around my waist and thighs. I then had a nightgown put over my head, the carer/nurse saying that this made it easier to clean us up in the morning. The carer told me that I was to stay in my bed all night and not to try to get up as this was not allowed! When she took me to my bed, I discovered why. bed was in fact a high sided crib with metal sides which pulled up with a loud clang. I was the fourth person in my bedroom and not long after, my sister arrived in her new nightgown. When she was encased in her metal cage, the carer bid us all "Good night" and turned the main light off. There was a small night light and we tried to sleep. My thighs were beginning to get wet with sweat from contact with the smooth rubber pants. It felt stranglely comforting and, to my surprise, I soon fell asleep. I woke in the middle of the night with a pain which, at home , would have meant I'd get the potty out from under my bed at home and use that to relieve the problem. With the night light, I realised where I was and that I couldn't get out of bed.

Jane called quietly to me, "John, are you awake for the same reason I am?" "I guess so," I replied. "You'll just have to use your nappies as we can't get out of these cribs. So let's do it together. Ready? One, two , three." With that we both tried to overcome years of potty training and wet our nappies. We found it a struggle to get started, but, once started, the warm fluid flooded between my legs and trickled down around my bottom as the terry towelling slowly absorbed it.