The Dunny

The Dunny

They were funny looking buildings, that were once a way of life,
If you couldn't sprint the distance, then you really were in strife.
They were nailed, they were wired, but were mostly falling down,
There was one in every yard, in every house, in every town.

They were given many names, some were even funny,
But to most of us, we knew them as the outhouse or the dunny.
I've seen some of them all gussied up, with painted doors and all,
But it really made no difference, they were just a port of call.

Now my old man would take a bet, he'd lay an even pound,
That you wouldn't make the dunny with them turkeys hangin' round.
They had so many uses, these buildings out the back,
You could even hide from mother, so you wouldn't get the strap.

That's why we had good cricketers, never mind the bumps,
We used the pathway for the wicket and the dunny door for stumps.
Now my old man would sit for hours, the smell would rot your socks,
He read the daily back to front in that good old thunderbox.

And if by chance that nature called sometime through the night,
You always sent the dog in first, for there was no flamin' light.
And the dunny seemed to be the place where crawlies liked to hide,
But never ever showed themselves until you sat inside.

There was no such thing as Sorbent, no tissues there at all,
Just squares of well read newspaper, a hangin' on the wall.
If you had some friendly neighbours, as neighbours sometimes are,
You could sit and chat to them, if you left the door ajar.

When suddenly you got the urge, and down the track you fled,
Then of course the magpies were there to peck you on your head.
Then the time there was a wet, the rain it never stopped,
If you had an urgent call, you ran between the drops.

The dunny man came once a week, to these buildings out the back,
And he would leave an extra can, if you left for him a zac.
For those of you who've no idea what I mean by a zac,
Then you're too young to have ever had, a dunny out the back.

I this old brick dunny in town last year behind one of the shop, was amazed it was still there....

We still had "captain midnight" into the mid-1960's in the part of Brisbane were I grew up.....

I used to dread cyclones, and still do. It meant a steady program of building the damn things. We were allowed one day for the building and 2 hours to build the throne. From memory they were 5 feet (1500mm) x 3 feet(900mm) and 7 feet (2100mm) high. Galvanised iron walls with a curved iron roof. All galvanised iron that warmed well in the tropics, discouraging extended sessions. Newspaper squares were hung in a nail with a bucket of saw dust in the corner, my father was a builder so we always had saw dust. Many is the newspaper article that was never completely read. Very often the back corner rusted out. If you lived in that period you will understand why. On many occassions, especially if we had visitors, the "Chinaman" needed to be buried after dark. Digging the hole was ok, but the back filling procedure, had to be done very quickly. As the eldest in the family, guess who got the job???? :C Then there was the long drop.... but that is another story.:D

Ahhh, the memories this all brings back.. The joys of country living... :D

Jim

We didn't have newspaper squares, we used the pink pages, 'cause we didn't have a phone. Who remembers the pink pages?
Remember having black hands and a black bum from the newsprint :doh:.

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Originally Posted by Grumpy John

We didn't have newspaper we squares, we used the pink pages, 'cause we didn't have a phone. Who remembers the pink pages?
Remember having black hands and a black bum from the newsprint :doh:.

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That would have been preferable to a Woman's Weekly names to the inside of the picnic ground dunny at Currumbin on the Gold Coast one year I was allowed to go early morning fishing with my dad.....the glossy paper was next to useless....

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Originally Posted by crowie

.....the glossy paper was next to useless....

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That could be used in a emergency, by crumpling the page before use. Even so, sand paper would have been more preferable. :C

Jim

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Originally Posted by powderpost

Then there was the long drop.... but that is another story.:D



Jim

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Jim

They were called a "thunderbox" around our way. I can think of a couple of reasons why that might be. :wink:


Regards
Paul

I remember my dad leaving out a bottle of home made ginger beer and biscuits for Santa [ which I`m sure he devoured ] , but he also left out a few bottles of beer for the night cartmen at Chrissy time. He ended up building his own septic system which wasn`t easy hand dug in Sydney sandstone .

When I was a kid we had the Hunter Bros company who did the emptying deed., red trucks with little doors, each one with white circles on them. The old man used to tell me to study hard because one day you would need a degree to do their job.

Looking back perhaps the degree would be a human movement degree.

Back when I used to race pushbikes, it wasn't uncommon to see the nightcart during early morning training. One early morning out near Milperra (almost the bush in those days) I saw one of the nightcarters dip his finger in the can and run it around his lips. Intrigued, I stopped and asked him what he was doing. He told me it was for his cold sores. Unbelieving, I asked him if it really cured them.

"No, but it stops me licking them."

:rofl::clap:

We lived in oak Flats, Wollongong in the mid seventies and still had a dunny out the back. Only ever used during the day though, we kept a bucket in the bathroom for night time emergencies! Dad used to have to hose down the pathway after the dunny men had visited as they had a habit of spilling a little on their way out. As a 10 quid Pom family we didn't know what a Zac was... perhaps that was why :rolleyes:.

I am reminded of the tale I was told as a 'youngun' - as a few of you know, dunny cans were made of sheet metal which was thoroughly coated in a black asphalt paint and there was a lid with a rubber seal that was clamped on top when the dunnyman removed the full can, delivering a clean, empty one at regular intervals.

It seems that some local authorities did not keep up maintenance on their stock of cans, so one day the dunnyman was carrying the full can up the driveway, balanced on his head as was the custom, when the bottom of the can gave way.:o Needless to say things got messy very quickly, the dunnyman did survive and there was lots of hosing down.

See all the fun we miss out on these days...............

One should also read Clive James' "Unreliable Memoirs" for his description of the dunny man's encounter with his billy cart.

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Originally Posted by AlexS

One should also read Clive James' "Unreliable Memoirs" for his description of the dunny man's encounter with his billy cart.

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The dunny can man also had an effect on the vernacular. When I was a kid in Hamilton, ( Western Victoria), back in the day, the saying to describe anything that had been squashed flat
was- "as flat as a sh....carter's hat"!!:D

Cheers, Redbog

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Redbog

The dunny can man also had an effect on the vernacular. When I was a kid in Hamilton, ( Western Victoria), back in the day, the saying to describe anything that had been squashed flat
was- "as flat as a sh....carter's hat"!!:D

Cheers, Redbog

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Yep, thats an oldie, a very good rhyme to use in the middle of a limerick.
As in:
Her bits were as flat
As a shirtcarter's hat

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Originally Posted by Grumpy John

We didn't have newspaper squares, we used the pink pages, 'cause we didn't have a phone. Who remembers the pink pages?
Remember having black hands and a black bum from the newsprint :doh:.

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I guessing your younger days you were very flexibly. :rolleyes: I never been able to twist that far.