Outside toilets

The holiday home that we're staying in at the moment is rather lovely.

There's a well-equipped kitchen, a big super queen-sized bed, a deep pool with adjustable sun loungers so you can dry yourself in the sun until you're so hot you need to take another dip in the pool, and a nice indoor-outdoor flow.

What it doesn't have is an inside toilet.

I don't mean it has an outhouse, at least not in the traditional ill-constructed smelly fly-ridden type of way. It's just that the bathroom isn't connected to the rest of the house.

It's also an open-air bathroom, which means that you can sit on the toilet and look up into the stars.

Well, not really. I've found it's more likely I'm staring around making sure that no four, six, nor eight-legged creatures are stalking me hungrily.

And it would be hard to make out the stars past the flickering fluorescent light and the haze of flying insects it attracts.

I'm probably not putting it in its best light. Most of the time it's fine, apart from the extra trek required, but there was an incident the other night which put me right off.

I'd fallen asleep at around eight NZ time, a little earlier that our usual bedtime, and it was only six o'clock local time.

When I woke up at midnight I needed to use the facilities, so put on a dress, my sandals, and my glasses, before unlocking the back door, putting the outside light, unlocking the bathroom door and then pulling on the cord for the florescent light.

I then scanned for danger. A couple of lizards scampered about, not sure if the light was something to bask in, or run away from, a small insect threw itself heartily into trying to smash its life out against the florescent, and a cane toad sat in the corner of the shower and glared at me.

I hesitated in the doorway while I pondered my options. I could brazen it out, I could wait and see if it hopped back to wherever it came from, or I could retreat indoors to battle my bladder until the morning.

Fairly certain, which is not the same as certain by any stretch, that cane toads are only toxic if you touch their skin or their slimy trails, I opted to brazen it out. I stared at the toad and it stared at me ad I went about my business.

I then went back inside and told my darling that there was a toad in the shower, and we'd need to be careful in the morning.

Turned out we didn't as the toad was long gone by then. My darling started to refer to it as the figment (of my imagination).

It was only at midday that I thought of another option. I could have chanced my luck, picked up the ugly toad, and given it a nice big kiss. Sometimes, a handsome Prince would come in handy.