The Victorian Dunny
As a child one of my allotted jobs was to take care of the families outhouse loo. We lived in a small country town, no town supply water, only rainwater tanks, no flush toilets, and no hot water. The weekly bath night started with heating up an old copper in the washhouse, carrying the water inside to the bath in a four-gallon tin.
Now hidden behind the washhouse was a cute corrugated iron Dunny that housed a wide plank with a hole in the middle, underneath a four Gallon tin with a wire handle, (Reject from the local dairy factory where father worked)
Our lush vegetable garden was systematically laid out in sections, a spare part of which was put aside for the burying of the so called tinny.
Firstly my job started with digging a hole under strict instructions for a certain depth and width, next was the tricky part, being only a pint size kid I needed to stand on the loo seat and heave with all my strength the four gallon wonder, then struggle out to the designated area, empty the contents in the hole and replace the tin in it’s rightful place. Most important the stake needed to be moved onto a fresh position for when the chore needed to be repeated. probably 2-3 times a week, rain hail of sun.
On a lighter note, once upon a time our very large cousin was visiting, soon after I had completed my disposing of chore, she made smart remarks about some of my duties I had to do. Being about a quarter of her size, a payback had to be from my brain, not my brawn. Somehow I charmed her into the garden and slowly edged our way over to the freshly raked soil, result being cousy was soon up to her knees in the proverbial. Screams and cries soon brought our parents running to the scene of the crime.
Being a gentleman I wont describe the sight, what a shame about her pretty new dress and lovely lace petticoat. The painful wacks across the beam with fathers leather razor strap was worth it.
As the years rolled by, town water and flush toilets were the in thing, I never had the opportunity to pass on this dreadful chore to the next generation.
In Conclusion…
Fathers vegetable garden was a high producer of quality produce for many years, as for me every time I see a four-gallon tin I have terrible flashbacks
Word Count. 420
1 comment:
Hi, we had one of these toilets in our garden when I was a kid. I was brought up in the north of NSW, in the middle of nowhere. Something impossible to imagine for those who I live with now in the northen coast of Spain. I was delighted to find your blog and this pic with the red back spider in it.... brought back so many memories... Hahahaha.... Thanks so much!!!
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