If an alien landed round these parts he could be forgiven for thinking that we humans did our bathing outdoors.
Every field round here boasts an old bathtub, the drinking station for the cows and sheep.
From a distance you can imagine one of those prairie photo shoots with model reclining in tub with cowboy boots casually placed at the side.
Hmmmmm, maybe not, these baths are always right beside the hedge at the side of the lane, your ablutions could so easily be interupted by the milk lorry trundling past or Nigel peddling round the corner on his bicycle.
Even worse, when you get up close any romantic notions are washed away. Stagnant water, moss, mould and soil everywhere, so not happening for the bathing experience.
The baths are tucked into fences, hidden by bushes.
Some look like ponds, with their own set up of grasses and plants.
There is something comforting and settled about them. For something that should be so out of place in the countryside, they are just, sort of, right.
So Mr Alien if you step off the shuttle flight round about this Walton's Mountain resist the temptation to leap into the bathtubs for a cleansing dip. You might come out greener than you went in!