A friend recently related the old yarn about a little girl walking into the scrub where she saw a boy having a pee. “My word,” she said, “what a handy thing to bring to a picnic!” That set me thinking… It is a ‘handy thing to bring to a picnic’ but its use may sometimes be fraught with risk.
And perhaps I should add many an actual happening is funnier than a comedy script!
Competitive by nature
Boys will always be boys. Back in the late 1940s, my mate and I climbed scaffolding on a local church. Realising there was a lot of sand below for the mixing of mortar, we saw the chance for a ‘blokey’ competition.
Men reading this will smile in understanding; women will almost certainly shake their heads in despair. Here was a perfect opportunity to see which of us could pee furthest or make the best pattern or, perhaps, the deepest hole in the sand. At eight or nine years of age, totally unrehearsed, we already knew the rules. Let the games begin! But suddenly, in mid-flow – and doing pretty well, I might add! – I realised the minister’s wife had come out the side door of their house. She looked up, saw us and said something in her rich brogue that I understood in part… but took a few more years to realise what else was inferred:
“Go on, awa’ wi’ ye, laddies. But ye’re more than welcome to return in ten year…”
All lit up
It was night time. We were interstate, driving. I was uncomfortable with a full bladder. My partner was asleep, softly snoring. Pressure became necessity. I needed to find somewhere to pull over and ease the load. A busy B-road between two major country cities, decency and courtesy suggested I seek a little privacy from the questing headlights of passing traffic.
I saw the perfect spot while rounding a curve: A good wide verge and trees up a slight slope. Parking well off the road, I quickly ventured up the rise. Nearing the treeline, I unzipped and commenced proceedings. Passing headlights flashed across me so I moved further forward into the trees. As I did, I triggered some type of electronic device and suddenly found myself standing proud, floodlit, near a multi-strand barbed security fence. Peeing.
I realised I’d be in full silhouette to every passing vehicle. I laughed then at the ‘Lights! Action! Camera!’ aspect of it, as I do while writing this a year later!
Come to think of it, perhaps it was all recorded for posterity and ‘they’, too, laugh at it yet!
By the sea
It was several years back; I was walking some kilometres along a beach when the need took me. Urgently. A good number of people were about on the day but there was a gap in each direction. I stepped in between a couple of low dunes and did what I needed to do in metre-high grass and sedge while keeping watch for passers by.
Turning to depart, I realised my right foot was both warm and wet. No, it wasn’t due to poor aim! The stream had hit and bent one of the broad blades of grass, funnelling straight back down into my boot! Oh well, it is no hardship walking barefoot through sand.
So you see, girls, although we blokes don’t need to concern ourselves about where to put a handbag, whether the toilet seat’s clean or not (or even if there is a seat), whether there’s paper available or if we have to scrabble around in our bag for a spare tissue, plus all the ease-the-bladder considerations you have, there are other traps involved with having such a handy picnic facility.
Somehow, though, I doubt I will elicit any sympathies from you.
Tell us, do you have any sympathies for him? What are you thoughts on the matter, ladies?