We met in a shower of shit. It's not your typical love at first sight story. She was lying on the grass with the septic cassette from her caravan beside her. Shit and piss were still settling from the sky. Not much, but more than is neighbourly had decorated my trouser leg. Most of it lay on the grass around us and the only thing that kept going through my head was, 'Dayum... those tits!'.
She'd been wearing a very casual, Mum next door style white gauzy blouse. It was a very demure and relaxed look with her loose-fitting shorts. Until the piss saturated it. Now it was lewd.
And 'Dayum... those tits!' There was a cousin years ago and hers were the only other breasts that came close to looking as large and yet still perfectly pert.
Now, I can look at a nut and tell you what size wrench you need, but ladies clothes sizing is not a skill I've mastered. I can only tell you they were just short of too big and generously more than not enough. They were shaped like ripe mangos and without the hard little nubs that crowned them as they poked rudely through the now wet, see-through material, they would have been pointless.
"Oh, my, fucking, god..." She struggled to stand up, so I held out a hand for her. She looked at it like I was nuts. "Don't fucking touch me, I'm... This... Oh fuck..."
The look of disgust on her face was even worse than the one she blessed me with a moment ago when I asked if she needed help. I'd seen her struggling to get the cassette out of the van. Some of them have a latch or a strap to hold them in place while travelling and I thought maybe she'd overlooked it.
"I'm perfectly capable of doing this. Just because I'm female, doesn't mean I'm useless." She had advised most pointedly.
"Just sometimes there's a latch-" Was as much as I got out before the latch obviously gave way, releasing its stubborn purchase on the cassette and suddenly relinquishing its prize. In seeming slapstick slow motion, she fell immediately backwards, and I watched as the cassette flung up and spun, showering her, the ground and my legs with its unearthly contents.
Despite her urging to, "Don't fucking touch me," I had to grasp her elbow and steady her as she tried to stand and slipped in a particularly beasty looking nugget.
I watched as she stormed off, grabbed a towel and a shower bag from the annex of her van and headed toward the amenities block.
Now, people have all sorts of reactions to human waste. Ninety percent of them view it with the opinion that it is a filthy fact of life and to be disposed of without contact. One percent of people end up on crazy Dutch porn sites and the remaining nine percent are people like me.
Plumbers. Liquid waste handlers. Nurses. Carers. Those sorts of people. People for whom human waste is encountered on a daily basis and dealt with matter of factly. After thirty-three years as a plumber, I assessed the scene in front of me and decided I was most likely more suited to cleaning up than a young mother whose only reference was changing nappies.
Call me old fashioned. Call me gender stereotyping. Call me anything, but not for dinner until I've well and truly washed my hands.
By the time she's returned a good hour later, thank God for free hot water, I've picked up all the chunky bits with my hand inside a plastic bag and deposited them back in the cassette. I've hosed what I couldn't pick up into the ground. And I've spread lime from my own supply over the general area to speed decomposition and prevent odours.
I'd just finished up emptying the cassette in the black water station and hosing it out when I saw her walking back down to her van. On my return, she was standing brushing her wet hair frowning at the lime on the ground.
Giving her a quick nod, I replaced the cassette for her and closed the hatch on the outside of the van. As I left, I briefly made eye contact with her and got a huff and a scowl as thanks before she stalked away back to her annex.
That was this afternoon earlier. I've since showered, taken the boat out to check my pots and to fish the sunset. They've been really on the chew just on dusk till the last light. As I beach on the sandy bank below my campsite, I see her camp active with the usual family dinner time sort of activity. Cleaning my fish, I smile as I remember the afternoon. Especially those tits.
Dinner for me is six of the redclaw I took from my pots. All up, I took about a sixty of the introduced crayfish from my four pots this afternoon. In the morning, I'll cook, shell and preserve them. I like to pickle them with chilli and garlic. The fish I've kept go in my fridge for breakfast. I'll take a few home for Mum and Dad on Saturday when I restock.
After I've eaten, I go for my second shower today; this one safe enough to occur in the bus. The bus is a Winnebago style motor home. I bought it when Jude first got sick. It has a small fridge in it too, and from that I take a bottle of Jack Daniels, a glass and some ice.
I only have the two drinks each evening as I watch the fire and relax after tea. I've never really been a big drinker, but I do enjoy a little whisky on ice. There are coals under a layer of ash in the fireplace, so I scratch them to the surface and add some more of the ironbark I've brought from home. Soon enough, crackling timber and orange light, lick hotly at my legs in the cool evening air and the smell of whiskey swirls in my nose as I sip thoughtfully at my glass.
"Hello? Hello?" I hear a female voice from back toward the bus. Looking back over my shoulder I see a female shape silhouetted against the lights of the bus.
"Down here!" I call and watch as she wanders down. She's wearing a pair of loose track pants and a zip up coat and her long dark hair spills now dry down around her shoulders. The slight breeze lifts it occasionally and the light of the fire reveals her embarrassed face.
"It seems the Lord is handing out lessons in humility, today. I'm sorry for earlier and so very grateful for your clean up. That was..." She seems lost for words, so I help out.
"A bit of a... 'shitty job'." I'm here all week...
"Oh God, don't remind me. And I was so rude to you."
"Don't worry about it. Shit happens. Oh shit. I didn't mean..." I close my eyes and shake my head.
"What is this? Revenge by Dad joke?" She giggles. "So, I'm Angela."
She's holding out her hand, so I shake it gently but warmly enough. "Rob. Nice set up."
I nod toward her caravan and camp. The van is one of those newer 'off-road' go anywhere style things that the retired nomads like to waste their superannuation on.
"Oh..." She sighs... "It's too big for me. That's why I was frustrated and rude to you. I've felt so stupid trying to manoeuvre it around. I like it. It's just way outside my comfort zone on the road. And setting up..."
"Your husband doesn't..." I don't know. Shouldn't he be driving that behemoth around and monstering the jacks and such?
"No husband." She smiles brightly and waggles the fingers of her left hand at me. "He kept the boat. The girls are missing having the boat here, but still enjoying the swimming and such."
"All off to bed?" I'd seen three or four younger ones earlier and can't hear them now.
"Up at the kiosk. Hanging out with some other kids in the light. I didn't bring firewood. Have you seen the price of it at the kiosk? Extortion!"
"Yeah, and not good wood either. Want to share my fire for a little while, Angela? Whisky?"
"I don't know. I'm not intruding? I just wanted to apologise. I don't want to offend you, but I don't really know you either." She looked so damn confused it made me chuckle a little.
"Wait here. I'll go find another camp chair and a glass."
I half figured she'd run away before I got back. I'm aware of how I look. After Jude died, I sort of let myself go. My hair is too long. My beard comes down to my chest. Resting grouch, is my usual look. But she's still standing timidly near the fire when I return.
"Here you go." I shake the chair to unfold it and stand it up. Then I hand her a glass with ice. "I've got water, or coke back in the bus if you like. I usually sip it neat though. How about you?"
"Don't drink. Well, once I did. But... Whatever, however you have it is fine."
"Angela? I can get you a glass of water if you'd prefer. I'm not..." Shit, it feels like I'm forcing it on her.
"Haha... Ignore me." She snatches the bottle from my hands. "I'm just plain awkward."
