Rub a Dub Dub

``What’s a washing tub?” One of my grandchildren asked, when I was making my miniature caravan.
The question made me smile, for the old fashioned galvanised washing tub hasn’t been seen for many years. I showed her the miniature tub I had painted to look like tin and the tiny scrubbing board that went with it. I told her how my mother and grandmothers had used these to do their laundry, and pointed out that the washing tub was just big enough for a small child.
``You had a bath in it?” She asked, wide eyed.

Rub a dub dub
In the big tin tub
That hung on the wall with a rope.
Rub a dub dub
Having a scrub
With Wright’s coal tar soap.

The soap had a strong antiseptic smell that permeated everything. There is no cleaner smell in the world. I was soaped all over with the yellow suds, from my hair to my toes, then was rinsed off with jugs of water – the bathwater at first, then clean rinse water.

Rub a dub tub
In the big tin tub
In Grandmother’s Kitchen.
Rub a dub dub
Having a scrub
The flames in the fireplace twitching.

When I stayed with my English Grandmother, I was bathed in her dim scullery down the stairs. The only lights were from a tiny gas flame high on the walls and the flickering flames of the scullery fire. It was warm and cosy down there with no draughts to give me a chill. Grandmother had a big fluffy towel to wrap me in at the end and I dried off in front of the fire.

Rub a dub dub
In the big tin tub
Like a child in Dame Washalot’s hands.
Rub a dub dub
Having a scrub
Time falls away like hourglass sands.

Dame Washalot’s strong, competent hands remind me of my Grandmother. She hums as she rubs the soap into me with a coarse piece of flannel, works the suds into my hair with determined fingers, then rinses and rinses until she is satisfied that I am pink and new. How many years has she washed away? Too many to count. As she wraps the big warm towel around me I realise she has grown taller – or maybe I have grown smaller. I look into the washtub, filled with the cares of the years, the learned responses and expectations I have carried with me for so long. One by one, like bubbles, they pop and disappear.

Rub a dub dub
In the big tin tub
All my troubles are washed right away.
Rub a dub dub
I’ve had my scrub
Now I’m ready to go out and play.