Another cup of tea, another dash to the loo! In the 21st Century, here in suburbia, we thank the Almighty for indoor plumbing, flushing toilets, and our modern sewerage system. Ghosts of our childhood can still appear, such as when we had a backyard dunny or toilet.
This was very basic, a tin can covered with a lid, placed in a seat or a bench, sited in a tiny shed, at the end of the path. In the depths of wintry nights, it was a long, scary trek to the little thunderbox, lit by a torch. I must say, we all tried to ‘hang on’ as long as we could. Very nippy place to be on frosty mornings, dark and urgent. My grandparents’ exterior plumbing was even worse, inhabited by spiders. Here there was only a pile of newspaper squares, hung over a nail or hook, for wiping botty bits.
Once a week, the backyard dunny can was emptied by the blip-carter, or nightsoilman. That was his official title. This was a job for someone, in the days when everyone had a place in society. Dredging a distant memory, our blip-carter used to wear a blue singlet, practically all year round. He had a strange, large, wide-brimmed dark hat, with its crown flattened. This local character was wreathed in perpetual cigarette smoke from the roll-your-own he had always dangling from his bottom lip.
The blip-carter was a cheery bloke, salt of the earth. He would place the lid on our used can, with its contents, and slot in a fresh one. Then he would sling the dunny can over his shoulder, and stride back to his truck. Off to the neighbours’, and their thunderbox in the back yard.
The backyard dunny is now regarded as a relic. Some are still preserved as mementoes of our past, painted and photographed. I read somewhere in Queensland, citizens aspired to make a “Loomuseum’, of restored old backyard thunderboxes. A tribute to our past.
My parents won a prize in Tatts, the old lottery. So they finally installed the luxury of an indoor flushing toilet, with a septic tank system. The baby boomer children we all were, wound up using the old backyard dunny for a cricket wicket for our endless childhood games. We had a basic sort of life!
Now not in use any more, backyard ablutions. The blip-carter and his funny hat strode off into history. He always went off with the dunny can on his back, somewhere down along Australia’s long nostalgic track.