Given that a fair few of us here are 'retired' (for whatever reason) or 'of a certain age', then yeah, amongst those of us frequenting the place, it's pretty likely that are scads of really great memories to be found, if only we can actually recall them (maybe someone should gather them together & publish them? Any takers?) Buuut, just as certainly there are also quite a few memories of things that weren't 'quite so nice'. I'm not referring to those things that were (& likely still are) distressing or upsetting, but rather those things that highlight how far we've come in living memory, & looking back on them, might be just a little amusing.
Things like having to leave the home paddock entirely one day a month or so (a big family & a few stock & farm hands helped) while the 'Honey Pot' toilets were burnt off!! To explain just a little for those not familiar with this concept - we lived in the bush & so, along with fairly restricted water supplies, power only when the generator was running, and still using horses for some of the work around the place, we had outhouse toilets with long drop holes underneath & lids that squirted a little Phenyle on top of the leavings every time you closed the lid (that vaguely kept the flies down a bit & helped keep the odour barely bearable.... aaand...you'll see) but with thirty or so people working on it, the long drops tended to fill fairly quickly! Sooo, once every month or so & a week or so ahead of time (depending on the weather, how hot & smelly things were, & how quickly they were filling) Dad would declare a 'Honey Pot Day' & we'd all plan to work as far away from home & as far upwind as we could!!
On the dreaded morning, we'd open all the outhouse doors & one shed at a time, we'd harness up a horse or two (usually the Clydesdale); & with a little encouragement, they'd drag the outhouses back & away from the pit about twenty feet or so (boy did the flies swarm then!); only then could we dump any used sump oil & some gas down the holes. That all got left to soak in for a bit while we finished pulling together all the necessary gear for our day away from home, ably helped by all 'smart' horses & dogs on the property swarming around us almost as thickly as the flies - just to make sure they wouldn't get left behind!! Once all was ready, & always the very last thing to do as as we left, we'd drop a burning rag into each hole & run!! The Phenyle helped make everything in there pretty damn flammable, but with the addition of some sump oil & gas as well as all the methane that 'self-generated' in the holes, it'd invariably go up pretty well - and boy, did that smoke stink!! :shocked:
Sooo, we'd head off a ways & spend the day working on one of the back blocks, grubbing thistles or stumps, fixing fences, or some other essential & exciting task. We could keep an eye on how things were progressing back home by watching how thick the plumes of smoke from the burning holes were, & once they started to turn white & whispy, it was safe to head on back!! On our way back, we always had to stop at the fire dam & fill up a tank on skids kept there specifically for the purpose, cos when we dragged that back, we'd be faced with the task of dumping some of the water into each of the holes (to make sure the fires were out & hopefully cool things down a bit) before harnessing up a horse or two for the return of the outhouses!! It was a sure sign you knew how to handle a draught horse when you could re-position the outhouses in one go!!
Once back in place, they were ready for the next month's deposits, but the first visitor to each was always a bit nervous. Occasionally (well, not all that often, but certainly once that I can vividly & personally remember well; altho my Parents often told hilarious stories of various other 'incidents') the fire wouldn't burn down far enough &/or a pocket of gas would be encased in a 'crusty bit', so that when the first new 'deposit' hit the top of the remains, it could break thru the top crust and a small explosion would result!! Nothing to do much harm, but sure as heck, no-one would sit near you for a few days... not that you wanted to sit all that much, cos certain parts were just a little tender!! :shocked: :roflblack:
Then there's the time we played a joke that 'back-fired' on one of the old & pretty near blind hands by dumping some 'well used & ripely off' rabbit guts in the very spot that he always relieved himself at as we left the home paddock.... errr no, maybe another time!
