Country Living – Pondering poo

You know you have reached the pinnacle of your rural existence when your septic tank decides it’s full and overflows on the Saturday of your child’s birthday party. You also know you have an angel among the ranks when the local septic tank guy comes out to deal with the situation before the party arrives. Personal sewage management is an intrinsic part of our rural life but not often talked about. My girlfriends thought I had gone mad when I told them I wanted to go on a septic tank run. Pfft. I’m no fool, it was obvious to me that anyone who performed such a role would have to have a cracking sense of humour and my day out on the septic beat didn’t disappoint. Actually, it was one of the most hilarious days I have had in years.

I met up with Ray McLaren from MacJimray Septic Services and jumped in his big truck to head out to a couple of rural residences that were suffering a septic overload. I have always had a slight aversion to anything poo-related, so it was crack-up trying to talk intimately to a complete stranger on the matter. Without hesitation, I asked Ray if he considered himself a professional “poo-ologist”, to which he replied he had never thought of it like that. However, he told me he cut his teeth in the drain-laying trade long before the uncanny natural progression of buying the family septic tank business became available.

Our conversation on the way to the first client was ridiculously funny, counting at least 10 words to describe the specific subject matter with every sentence that rolled out of our mouths dissolving into some sort of pun. On the way, Ray got a call that the septic was in the paddock somewhere and may be overgrown. It was looking like I had snagged a tricky one and I was excited. The steep driveway was thin and overgrown, so Ray had to back that big truck up with a great deal of skill.

Outside, like a couple of snipers, we started lurking around someone’s yard, trying to pinpoint exactly where the septic would be. Then with military precision, he found it in the overgrown grass and started digging to find the lid. Digging through mountains of dirt and clay on that freezing morning, I was sweating just watching Ray lift the lid off. I braced myself for an olfactory explosion and was pleasantly surprised when – although not quite reminiscent of Chanel No.5 – it actually wasn’t too overpowering.

Ray lugged the massive vacuum hose out and started to stir this “sludge” – industry technical term for poo – around. At this point I am not going to lie. Horror memories of my mother’s watery mince stew started to haunt my mind. I wondered, as you naturally would, if particular foods had any bearing on the style or “whiff” factor of this sludge. As it turns out, I’m told that my worldly pursuit to be ethnically diverse in my home cooking will not be detected upon my next septic clean.  Although I believe if I  suddenly decide to force feed my family corn for breakfast, lunch and dinner, then I’m afraid my culinary  habits may become a tad transparent.

With all the sludge pumped out, bar a little at the bottom which is needed to help process the household’s sewage for the next few years, the lid was popped back on and hoses rolled up onto the truck. Unbelievably, apart from a bit of mud on his boots, Ray is completely clean. Septics really are amazing little inventions.

I found Ray to be the coolest dude, performing a critical service for rural people and strangely I had a fantastic day. More importantly though, I learned two important life lessons, a) at the end of the pipe we are all equals, and b) it is true that not all superheroes wear capes.

Julie Cotton
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