photo curtsy of Dale Rogerson.
Fredrick took a deep breath of fresh night air, it would be the last sweet air that he sampled this night. He tightened the string holding up his latest pair of trousers collected yesterday from the rag and bone man. Then picking up his shovel he followed Ned and the cart into the back alley. It was six months since he had emptied the cesspits in this part of town, but the stench was bad. Particularly at Evergreen House, where they did not deposit ash into the privy, since they had adopted the craze for electric lighting and gas fires.