Privies

A few will be aware I have been known to speak on various subjects over the years. Fundamentally these all revolve around my favourite subject of etymology. Have always enjoyed bringing this fascinating subject to others. It’s not for me to say whether the audiences have, although many have asked me to return.

Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these presentations, continuing with Privies.

Pop to the loo, go, flush, wash. Nothing could be simpler in the modern world but it wasn't always like this. Our parents, grandparents, and earlier generations had to toddle off down the path to the privy at the bottom of garden. During warm summer days the hole in a board with no flush or sewage system sounds bad enough - but after dark and in the depths of winter armed with only a candle? A number of narratives from the Toilet Tales of Yesteryear and told as only the British can.

Gongfermors, or night soil men, were charged with emptying privies. They would do this regularly, the regularity depending on the size of the pit below. One such pit was in the Bishop’s Medieval Palace in Lincoln, where the detritus down the pit would be cleared out regularly – every 50 years, on average.

Another tale comes from Europe and the thoroughly dislikeable Frederick Barbarossa. Even the man himself realised how much he was hated, and knowing he was most likely to be assassinated whilst paying a visit, ordered that nobody should visit the privy unless he did.

With the whole entourage answering a call of nature together – be they male or female – it put a great deal of strain on the wooden flooring. Eventually the combination of the weight of people and the rotting wood resulted in the floor giving way and several ‘visitors’ disappeared into the morass below – four of whom were never seen or heard of again.

Finally I once discovered a large urinal in a museum, where an image of a bee was to be seen at around knee height. When I asked why it was there, I was told it was a target – hit the target, no splash back. I then asked why a bee, and was told because the Latin name for a bee is apis. And they say these Victorians had no sense of humour.

If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line.