You know you’re taking evolution backwards when the vegetables shower more often than you do.
The longer I live here, the more I lose the thin veneer of civilisation my parents forced on me as a kid in Sydney. Eat with your mouth shut! Don’t use your fingers. Go take a shower for chrissake! Get your elbows off the table!
I now only wash when I can smell myself, seeing as all the water we’ve got comes from a couple of frog-infested tanks (and I used half of it last week turning the bathroom into a water park).
But who needs a bathroom when you have a bucket? The bucket shower is a devastatingly simple concept we all got used to as kids on holidays down the coast. You fill a bucket (purpose-built with a tap set in the bottom) with warm water, attach it to a hook, stand underneath it and turn the tap on. Bingo.
These days, I’ve got no time for that sort of luxury. Who needs a hook! Who needs a tap! Just take one ordinary plastic bucket. stand outside on the grass in the nude, and tip the water over yourself with a cup. For a treat, add coconut oil – it makes the grass so much softer.
And then there’s REALLY basic – soaping and/or shampooing yourself up, walking down the hill to the creek, and sitting in it. Not only will you clean yourself but also the small fish, spiders and dragonflies who live there (so make sure your shampoo’s environmentally friendly).
Actually, I pretend that I do these things because we don’t have enough water for the normal kind of shower that soft city folk indulge in. But we do have enough water. I just like standing outside my house in the nude tipping a bucket over my head. Why? I dunno.
Talking about nudism, I’ve never been into it much – I was probably traumatised as a child when mum got a tick ‘down there’ and had to ask my sister to tweeze it out. But now, I think nothing of strolling about the premises on a sunny morning, airing my cellulite. It’s unexpectedly lovely to feel the sun and the wind on your naked skin – and even better in the dam, feeling like some free-spirited chick out of a 1960’s hippy movie.
Strangely, The Girl always swims in her cossie, when I’m there, because, she says ‘You’ll look at me and think critical thoughts about my body.’ This is ironic considering that she is nineteen and perfect, while I’m 54 and far from.