My father was a motor mechanic, and my mother a homemaker. We moved to Bath when I was four, and so I consider myself a Bathonian.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Living with my grandmother in Bath, I sort of thought I was living in the 19th century. My grandmother was someone who, in a way, was rather defiantly trying to live a pre-World War I existence.
As a child, I always wanted to be the last one to take a bath because I knew I could close the door and spend hours just having my bath and singing.
I used to tell people my father was a plumber, because that would mean we had a normal life.
My dad was a plumber, and my mom was on and off again, either a stay-at-home mom or working with the disabled as a visiting-nurse assistant.
I'm a big bath person.
My mother's a secretary; my father's an electrician in a mining company.
In the evening of the first day my father conducted us to the public baths.
We never had a bathtub. Mom would bathe me in the wooden or tin washtub in the kitchen, or in a big lard can.
My dad was an actor and a writer; my mum was a drama teacher. My grandma was an actress. My aunt is an actress. My granddad was a cameraman. They would've been surprised if I wanted to be a dentist or something like that.
My mother was a housewife. My father was a garment worker.