When the knife grinder and the pot mender finished, along with tinkers and raddle men. When tramps and gypsy’s stopped calling, as did the library and traveling shops, It was time to lock the door and leave the valley. In the twilight of my life it will be difficult to go a’wandering. But I’ll not miss the privy, for it could back fire. My family believed the privy was a curse, like a tax man or a politician. Like me they left the privy to the worms and hid valuables in the hedgerows, so don’t dig here.