The day I have to do that, I'll already know the end is coming.
My late mother related that to me while we were stationed in Tehran, Iran during the early sixties, when toilet paper was as rare to find as live Christians in the ancient
Roman Coliseum...
Ode to the Persian Thundermug
I have no pleasant memories of the Persian thunder mug,
The throne room in each household where you go to pull the plug.
It’s a square of cold ceramic measuring nearly three by three,
With two serrated foot steps, which you squat on buttock's free.
It slopes to rear of center where there is a forbidding drain,
Right above which is a flush tank that is operated by a chain.
Instead of toilet paper there is a weird kettle with a spout,
Which sits under a faucet from which cold water pours out.
It is usually in a corner mostly dark and out of sight,
The smell from which will give the strongest an awful fright.
http://www.mage.com/PP.htmlThe tragedy happened one evening on the way back to my home,
It was really quite fortunate since I was traveling all alone.
I had a queasy feeling that was uncomfortable at best,
I thought if rushed home I could put things to a peaceful rest.
As I entered my stomach did a flip flop and tied itself in knots,
I knew then for certain that I contracted the Tehran Trots.
I rushed into the bathroom with my trousers at half-mast,
Where I squatted in discomfort thinking the danger past.
I reckoned incorrectly cause I had barely squatted there,
When the jet propulsion started and it splattered everywhere.
I tried to clean a bit and half rose to pull the chain,
And the contents of my pockets all went tumbling down the drain.
I retrieved the most important not too happy as you can guess,
There was no doubt about it, things were in an awful mess.
I washed-up as best I could with the faucet and the pot,
Weeping shamelessly at what had become my lot.
I roundly cursed the designer and his sick and twisted mind,
And the maker of this contraption with no place for your behind!
Helen and Russell (Bill) Leaming, Tehran, Iran 1962.