22 July 2021

As someone who lives on the pudgy side of life, I have heard and read a lot of comments from people who know much better than me, about how I should be eating. For effective weight control, I am told that you must sit, eat slowly, and concentrate on your food. Make an event of the meal. Observe each and every mouthful. Don’t devour your food on the run or mindlessly.

I haven’t heard anyone say it, but the same thing should apply to the end journey of that food, when it has passed through your alimentary system and completed its task.

My dog, on her morning walk this morning around the block, was obviously keen to move on from the sniffing and peeing part of the journey, on towards the business end of the trip. But she wasn’t happy with any of the grassy verges on offer, and kept tugging at the lead to let me know where she wanted to go.

Across the main road we went, dodging the peak hour traffic and the parents eager to offload their children at the local school. Across the park with the swing set. Across the cycle path loaded with the Tour de France wannabes. Past cute dogs and chatty owners. To a spot with a view of the lake, the park, and the river in the background – and then she squatted.

Granted, she is not always so particular, but it struck me this morning that sometimes, when you need a little bit of time to let your body relax and do what it needs to do – well sometimes it doesn’t hurt to have something to look at.

My oldest grandson, in early toilet training days, would often successfully sit long enough on the potty if Grandma put her iPad in front of him playing rubbish truck videos.

Many an adult likes to take something with them into the ‘Room of Convenience’ to help keep them amused while their dinner from last night makes its exit. Whether it’s a book, a magazine, or a newspaper, it helps to have something to keep your mind occupied. One member of my family (won’t mention any names but he knows who he is) watches videos or tv shows.

Growing up, my Dad had built a bookshelf in the toilet in our holiday house in Busselton, which was stacked with very old copies of The Readers Digest. Flicking through the jokes used to be just enough time to do what needs doing. In later years that shelf housed cleaning supplies and spare loo rolls, and it was never the same. I miss those old magazines.

I remember visiting a long drop toilet in one of the remote parts of Australia, which had the door opening facing a magnificent view. You could keep the door propped open while you sat and admired the view – if you were confident that there weren’t any other people on the other side of the gorge armed with a zoom lens or binoculars, that is.

When you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go, and any suitable seat will accommodate you.

But if your seat comes with a view, then that’s got to be better, surely?