A Little House

[Phred]

Dad-1 wrote:
the dear ladies cataract job

Hope Mrs T is all better now.

Bigmet wrote:
The occupants must be desperate by now, worn out their digging stick, trowel, whatever...

The chamber pots are overflowing!

Well, I've got numerous bits of bamboo slats ground down, cut to length and glued together to make the various parts for the dunny.

A little doodad salvaged from inside an old PC, with the outside plastic stripped off and the inside stripped out, makes a serviceable dunny pot. A staple bent to shape and super glued on makes a nice big handle so that the dunny man can carry several at once.

Next, assemble the bits.

[Phred]

I mentioned earlier in this thread about these houses being raised up on silly looking long stumps. Here is a photo I took this morning of a house on the seafront which used to have sea views until the council put a swimming pool/gym right in the way. Solution: just keep jacking your house up until you get your sea view back.

[Bigmet]

There's interesting. Hope there's some anchorage within those pallet stacks, or whatever they are. What's the position on building controls? Is it as simple as 'what you do on your plot of land is all and only your business' ?

...A little doodad salvaged from inside an old PC, with the outside plastic stripped off and the inside stripped out, makes a serviceable dunny pot...

It's almost a joke in itself, since the doodad is a 'capacitor'; 'just going for a squat on the crapacitor' sounds right.

[Phred]

Bigmet wrote:
There's interesting. Hope there's some anchorage within those pallet stacks, or whatever they are. What's the position on building controls? Is it as simple as 'what you do on your plot of land is all and only your business' ?

Yes, they are pallet stacks and it's not unknown for propped up houses like that to come tumbling down, especially on sloping sites.

As for rules and regulations, pretty much everything is illegal in Queensland. But that's just so that whichever level of government you are applying to can deny your application at their pleasure. If, however, you pay a 'development consultant' to submit your application it will sail through. If you are related to a councillor or MP you can usually dispense with the development consultant.
If the right people have been paid but the development is so blatantly in contravention of the regulations that a public outcry ensues, the government body involved will launch a token legal action which will be abandoned after a short while because 'the cost imposition on the ratepayers is too high' or some such excuse.

Anyway, I'll get off my soapbox and return to the dunny pot.

Bigmet wrote:
It's almost a joke in itself, since the doodad is a 'capacitor'; 'just going for a squat on the crapacitor' sounds right.

A crapacitor! How very apt.

[Phred]

Here is the assembled dunny with some 'newspaper' hanging from a hook on the wall.

The slide-up hatch to access the dunny pot. Again, not to scale, but little hands and all that.

This is where the laundry was situated at my in-laws' house. The dunny was placed as far as possible down the yard though, for obvious reasons. Two Modelu cats are relaxing on the back window sill. I bought some Modelu people as well but I have entrusted them to one of my sons for painting as he still has sharp eyes and steady hands.

Now to go shopping for a pretty gift box of a suitable size to pack it all in.

[Phred]

Here is Mr Flanagan with his two dogs. He lives in the little house with his daughter, Kitty and her children, Siobhan, Seamus and Ciaran. I think they're Italian or something. Kitty and the kids are still away at my son's place being painted.

There will now be a short interlude until Saturday when my granddaughter's birthday party is scheduled.

[Bigmet]

Here is Mr Flanagan with his two dogs. He lives in the little house with his daughter, Kitty and her children, Siobhan, Seamus and Ciaran. I think they're Italian or something ...

In a home that small, I'd begin to suspect they were Incestians.
You have accidentally created a portrait of a very expert tiler of my aquaintance (of wholly upright morals).

[ChrisGreaves]

'just going for a squat on the crapacitor' sounds right.

nah then!
No need for scalological humour here ...
Cheers, Chris

[Phred]

Bigmet wrote:
I'd begin to suspect they were Incestians

I had to Google that to see if it's a real thing. I'm probably flagged on some government database now.

ChrisGreaves wrote:
No need for scalological humour here ...

Ha! There'll be plenty of that when the kids at the birthday party see the dunny this Saturday. Oh wait, you wrote 'Scalological'. Back to Google!

[Bigmet]

Scatological even.

I had to Google that to see if it's a real thing. I'm probably flagged on some government database now.

If it's as inefficient as your building control or our Department of Transport, no worries.

And sadly it is a real thing, my sister working as an occupational physio was for some years helping the disabled offspring of father-daughter parentage.

[ChrisGreaves]

Oh wait, you wrote 'Scalological'. Back to Google!

Speaking of google, if you search for "dunny can" you will see that dunny cans do NOT look like oversized coffee mugs with a mug-handle, but instead had clip-on lids and carrying handles either side. I speak from experience, as we had a dunny at the far end of the house lot.
Streets had facing houses, and between the back fences ran a narrow lane, wide enough for a small truck, and this lane was host to a small truck one night a week.
In the 1950's the euphemism was "Lavender Lane", but in our part of Western Australia, names were regularly desyllabalized, so the lane was known as "Lav Lane".
At least, I think that's how it went.

Let me know if you have plans to model insect life related to this topic.
Cheers, Chris

[Phred]

Bigmet wrote:
the disabled offspring of father-daughter parentage.

Good lord! Now that is just depressing.

ChrisGreaves wrote:
you will see that dunny cans do NOT look like oversized coffee mugs

I honestly can't remember what the dunny cans of my youth looked like. I didn't spend much time looking at them.

Funny enough, I searched Google images for dunny cans to try and find the easiest design to make for this child's toy and came across an old photo of a truck loaded with cans which did indeed look exactly like big mugs. Standing beside the truck was the dunny man with one arm slung through the handles, carrying three at once. Simple and easy to make, so I went with that one. I could try and find the image again but I doubt that anyone would care either way.

[Bigmet]

...Good lord! Now that is just depressing...

Plenty more of the same evident now that DNA analysis is freely available, sad to say. As one specialist on the subject observed, when the impulse to stray occurs, sometimes it's going to be with whoever is most conveniently available.

As for the dunny pots, I don't imagine for a moment they were anything like standardised when a common item, any more than the designs of lavatory pans, seats and cisterns that replaced them.

[Phred]

Bigmet wrote:
Plenty more of the same evident now that DNA analysis is freely available, sad to say.

One of my son's in-laws works for the Australian Federal Police in a unit investigating child abuse and trafficking. I fear for his mental health with the awful stuff he has to trawl through every day.

Bigmet wrote:
I don't imagine for a moment they were anything like standardised when a common item

That reminds me, my father's mother in Ireland had an old paint tin for a dunny pot! My father was the second youngest of 17 children born and raised in a little cottage with no water or electricity. So the Flanagans are living in relative luxury in the Little House!

[Phred]

My granddaughter's birthday party was held yesterday and she was mightily pleased with her little house, but she literally squealed with delight when she discovered the dunny!

Epilogue:
Poor Mr Flanagan was carried to the dunny and placed upon the throne, and all the people witnessed, with wonder and merrriment, that his posterior perfectly fitted the seat. Then all the children laughed and played, and the old toy maker slipped quietly away to his favourite armchair with a glass of scotch, well satisfied with his work. And the more he drank, the more satisfied he became.