Plumbing part II

My musings on plumbing provoked some parental memories. There was, of course, the incident where the long drop on the farm got blown up by someone disposing of an illicit cigarette down it in an attempt to avoid being caught smoking (I'm sure an almighty bang and a shower of dunny parts was easier to explain.....)

And then there was the nightman - the night-soil man, the night-cart man. How could I have forgotten that? Mum says that when she was young, the Dillon St house (that's the one in the painting) still had an out-house, as did Tomo Mai, the house where she grew up. The night-man came around on Saturday nights and emptied the can. That's a job to add to my I'm Having A Crappy Day But At Least I'm Not A....... list, along with the modern equivalent, being the person who empties the sanitary bins in the office toilets.

So more questions - when did the night-cart service start in Wellington? Who was the nightman? Was it a family business? It's not something I've seen in the newspaper advertisements, but then, I don't suppose it was something people wanted to be very public about. You don't see recruitment ads for sturdy young lads willing to work by night, either...