We finally decided to upgrade the old pit toilet on the farm.
It was a hard decision since it was agreed that a septic system would use too much flushed water and the potential to cause problems with the ecological balance of a swamp near the house was too great.
Not that toilet water would have been a problem in this year of five local floods, but dry years do occur.
We finally decided that a composting system would be the best in our situation.
It was then we had a great stroke of luck, the son-in-law was at an auction and there, large as life, was a brand new unused state of the art composting toilet.
The fact that he was over 1,000 kilometres away from the farm did not cause him to hesitate - at the fall of the gravel he was the proud owner of a massive virgin crapper at a bargain basement price.
So this Christmas he loads the dunny on the back of a trailer behind the family car and heads north to the farm, turning heads all the way up the Pacific Highway.
On the family's arrival at the farm we wander around the house yard, beers in hand, working out where the new toilet should be sited.
It had to be conveniently placed near the house, yet have a good view and not interfere with other aspects of the house yard design. A few beers later we agreed on the best site for the new toilet.
It was a hard decision since it was agreed that a septic system would use too much flushed water and the potential to cause problems with the ecological balance of a swamp near the house was too great.
Not that toilet water would have been a problem in this year of five local floods, but dry years do occur.
We finally decided that a composting system would be the best in our situation.
It was then we had a great stroke of luck, the son-in-law was at an auction and there, large as life, was a brand new unused state of the art composting toilet.
The fact that he was over 1,000 kilometres away from the farm did not cause him to hesitate - at the fall of the gravel he was the proud owner of a massive virgin crapper at a bargain basement price.
So this Christmas he loads the dunny on the back of a trailer behind the family car and heads north to the farm, turning heads all the way up the Pacific Highway.
On the family's arrival at the farm we wander around the house yard, beers in hand, working out where the new toilet should be sited.
It had to be conveniently placed near the house, yet have a good view and not interfere with other aspects of the house yard design. A few beers later we agreed on the best site for the new toilet.
It was time to get the ditch dingo working, since the base section has to be buried over one metre into the soil.
About 800cm into the dig we struck solid clay - the heavy solid sticky type. It was useless to continue digging as this type of clay will expand quickly when wet. So the decision was made to build up the soil around the compost unit instead.
The new toilet now nick-named The FARTUS (apologies to Dr Who) was in place and waiting for the actual building of the toilet hut section. One of the cousins who had been in the Navy said he thought that the new installation looked like a submarine conning tower.
That night it rained and stormed, then it rained again.
The misty morning light revealed the sight of the composting toilet bobbing incontinently in a muddy sea. We now had a Collins-type sub.
So later that day we downed a few more beers (I had switched to rum and coke by this stage) and decided that this was a sign from Huey. The whole toilet situation had to be re-thought.
About 800cm into the dig we struck solid clay - the heavy solid sticky type. It was useless to continue digging as this type of clay will expand quickly when wet. So the decision was made to build up the soil around the compost unit instead.
The new toilet now nick-named The FARTUS (apologies to Dr Who) was in place and waiting for the actual building of the toilet hut section. One of the cousins who had been in the Navy said he thought that the new installation looked like a submarine conning tower.
That night it rained and stormed, then it rained again.
The misty morning light revealed the sight of the composting toilet bobbing incontinently in a muddy sea. We now had a Collins-type sub.
So later that day we downed a few more beers (I had switched to rum and coke by this stage) and decided that this was a sign from Huey. The whole toilet situation had to be re-thought.
Graphic from My Little Family's Genealogy
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