City folk might not appreciate the way that we in the bush have to improvise. Our next door neighbours were building their own house and progress was pretty steady because they would wait until materials came to hand. If a cottage nearby was being demolished they would recycle useful bits such as doors and windows. So they did not rush ahead with the walls, knowing that these might have to fit a door of unusual shape.

Anyway, they had obviously given the bathroom a low priority. They had an organic toilet and a wash stand beside the rainwater tank, so there was no rush on the shower. In fact they had a kind of hip bath in the shape of a forty four gallon drum sliced down the middle. This they rested on some bricks so that it would not roll around.

In the winter, they would set the drum up in the kitchen near the fuel stove and transfer hot water as required. In the summer, they used the tub outside. Although we were neighbours we were far enough away not to worry them in bath mode, and anyway a little nudity is nothing to embarrass the broad minded.

When the tub was outside, they discovered a short cut. Instead of heating the water inside and carting buckets outside, they attached a hose to the tank and filled the bath very quickly. Then they kindled a fire underneath the drum. One of the pair would luxuriate in the warming water while the other tended the fire to ensure that the temperature was right.

If the fire burnt too well, then the bather would be uncomfortable. The fire tender would then rake out some coals, add some more cold water, or even hose the fire down. Obviously, this required constant concentration. They did not have a telephone but if they did, its ringing would have to be ignored, lest the bather be boiled like a lobster.

There was one memorable occasion not long before Christmas when she – let’s call her Mary – was in the tub and he –let’s call him Joe – was tending the fire. These names seem quite appropriate because Mary, like a famous namesake was close to full term or ‘big with child’ as they might put it in biblical terms.

So, here was nine months pregnant Mary enjoying her Christmas bath. Needless to say, Joe did the gentlemanly thing and allowed Mary first use of the water. He had a pretty good fire going and Mary, in bliss, closed her eyes. Joe had the hose and shovel within reach and was keeping a close eye on the fire.

About then, Joe heard a car horn tooting down at the front gate, a couple of hundred yards away. Joe ignored the sound of the horn. They were not expecting visitors, and most friends would open the gate and drive through. He soon realised however that the horn blower was not going to stop. It might have been some sort of emergency. He shrugged his shoulders at Mary, who seemed not to have heard the horn, so he reckoned she might well be asleep.

Now some people might judge Joe harshly here, but most will understand, he ran down to the front gate so he would not leave Mary alone for too long, and when he arrived, found a bloke standing outside the driver’s door of his car, still blowing the horn.

It turned out to be a travelling salesman, and it is a well known fact that salesman of this sort can talk under wet cement. The salesman went into his spiel before Joe could get a word in, and as he leaned on the gatepost, a sudden gust of wind blew the car door shut behind him. It was one of those gusty breezes in those parts that blow swirling dust devils around the ground and stir the leaves of the gum trees.

This did not deter the salesman one bit. He was determined to get through his spiel, as though his life depended on it. Then came an appalling cry from Mary. It was just the one word, repeated several times. ‘Fire!’ she screamed. ‘Fire!’ Joe told the salesman that he had to go. The salesman shouted ‘I’m coming too' and reaching into the back of his car, he withdrew the product he had been trying to convince Joe he needed. That’s right. He sold fire extinguishers.

 By the time they got near to the house, Mary was up on tip toe, jumping from foot to foot as the bathtub was burning her soles. She was holding on to her belly and quite obviously distressed. Would not anyone in this situation be somewhat alarmed? She could hardly jump from the bath as the flames were rising on either side and she must have feared for the safety of her baby.

Joe got there first and began to spray the fire with the hose, causing swirling clouds of smoke to rise. The salesman, encumbered by the extinguisher, got there after the worst was over and Joe was hugging Mary and wrapping her in a towel.

The salesman said ‘Strewth’ as salesmen in this situation are liable to do, put the extinguisher down and leaned on it. ‘You do need to have an extinguisher handy’, he said. ‘By an odd coincidence, this one is going at a special rate, today only’.

There is a patch of ground near that house which is now part of a garden. However, anyone digging there is likely to turn up little fragments of charcoal, although the story of how they came to be there is seldom told these days. Young people today do not have the easy sense of humour of bygone eras.

Anyway, the happy ending is that Mary and Joe’s baby was born right on Christmas Day. He was born at home but understandably, Mary wouldn’t be in a bathtub water birth.  I can’t say whether the couple asked the salesman his name but I doubt they would have named their baby for him. They had plenty of other choices given the season and circumstances. As he was a special delivery and Joe arrived just in the nick of time, they settled on Nick, though I am not sure whether it was short for Nicholas or just plain Nick. I suspect the latter.

© 2020 Tony Smith. Dr Tony Smith is a former political science academic. His writings appear occasionally on Pearls and Irritations.

Star photo by Aperture Vintage, fire photo by Free Nature Stock, and extinguisher photo by The Lazy Artist Gallery, all from StockSnap.