"Then I have to paint my nails," she continued, still giggling. She saw Simon's grin and realized he was going to try and catch her, presumably to tic...le her; he knew all the spots. Jumping up, she made it a few steps towards her room before Simon's arm snuck out and caught her around her waist. She squeaked as he tossed her on the couch and tickled her sides. When she could get enough air in her lungs, she gasped out, "Okay, you win. Uncle. I'm free tonight." He stopped tickling but didn't let. In this part of the country they were favoured and readily available. Six seems to be the most common number of rods here and often they were just loosely bound. In this workhouse the job seems to have been given to Dilly who spent most of her life on colliers before becoming a gardener here. Apparently she was adept at binding the rods so they splayed nicely and covered more of a woman’s arse. They were kept in a leather tube of vinegar but that has long since deteriorated. I have kept these. More

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