The dunny

Back home again you could say that everybody’s loo or outhouse was, as the name suggests, way out in the backyard.  In the middle of the night or in the pouring rain, that’s all there was and no toilet paper either.  The Sydney Morning Herald was the paper of choice.  A far cry from today; you didn’t have to press a button or pull a chain either.  Oh no!  All you had in those days was a very big ‘pan’ about 18” high by about a foot wide with a wooden dunny seat and a lid on the top.  Upon lifting it you would see what was in the pan; the stench of which would knock a horse over.

The ‘night man’ would call about once a week in the wee small hours to change the pan, heave the full one up onto his back, with the family dog snapping at his heels and trying his best not to contaminate both himself and your backyard with its contents ‘a la dog’. Every year at Christmas he would leave a card asking for either a tip or some sort of gift. What gift could you leave him?  A piece of cake?  My humorous instincts were always in poor taste.