
© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017
Thankfully there are not too many outhouses left in cities and towns these days. Out west they are still fairly common. As an Australian we used to call these the thunderbox or dunny and anyone my age growing up in a country town will remember the dunny man calling. Even an outer suburb of Sydney, Cowan, had the dunny man coming into the 1980s. Some towns such as Gloucester were designed for sensibilities to be kept intact with a lane at the rear of each house that the dunny man could use to collect the offerings you had left during the week. Naturally you had to be aware of red back spiders, snakes and the frogs that peered up from within when you lifted the lid.

© irene waters 2014
A more modern version using a composting toilet. This one makes me think of another euphimism used for the toilet – throne room.

© irene waters 2015
Some internal toilets aren’t much better than those outside

© irene waters 2017
Whilst in Sweden a flushing mechanism I’d never encountered had me taking photos of the WC.

© irene waters 2015
This lavatory was notable for the colour of the floor tiling.

© irene waters 2014
And this loo for blending in. ‘Loo” it is thought comes from the time of the Battle of Waterloo from a French term “gardyloo” which means watch out for the water. Something you’d want to do if you didn’t want the chamber pot emptied on your head.

© irene waters 2014
This crapper doesn’t allow for too much movement. Of course this slang term for toilet comes from Thomas Crapper who invented the flush toilet.
Post made for Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017
If only I had the time
To collage a life
What a spectacle
I could make
From egg to newborn
then to the grave
Crossing bridges
Some smooth sailing
Some building castles in the air
Some rocky terrain would be crossed
And sometimes the pinnacle would be reached
With some weirdness on the way
The body that you want
Some philosophy and spiritual awareness
Hopefully not too many battles to be fought
And fun with friends and family
A home where one is loved and can lay ones head
Is what a collage would show
If only I had the time.
In response to the Weekly Photo Challenge

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017
Sun shines through
Banks of clouds
while cotton puffs dot the blue
and on the other bank
the smokey plume joins the daytime fun
But in the setting sun clouds they glow.
For skywatch Friday

© irene waters 2017
Classified as one of the great architectural masterpieces of the 20th century the Stockholm City Hall (Stadhuset) is an example of a Revivalist building incorporating the National Romantic form, Nordic Gothic and Northern Italian styles. The architect was Ragnar Ostberg who designed it in 1908. Eight million bricks were used in its construction, which was commenced in 1911 and completed in 1923.

© irene waters 2017
It is perfectly situated on the edge of Lake Malaren on the island Kungsholmen. Although, by European standards, the building itself is not that old it does house in the Blue Hall the oldest organ in Scandinavia, in the Gold Hall some Byzantine inspired wall mosaic made up of 18.6 million bits of glass and gold while in the oval room are a series of French tapestries over 300 years old.

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017
The tower is 106 metres in height and lots and lots of stairs eventually lead you to the fantastic view available from the top.

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017
The Nobel prize is award here in the blue room followed by a ball in the gold room. The council chambers are also here and the ceiling in this room is reminiscint of a long boat in the Viking style.

© irene waters 2017
In response to Paula’s Thursday’s Special.

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017
Please join in giving your location at the time of your memory and your generation. An explanation of the generations and the purpose of the prompts along with conditions for joining in can be seen at the Times Past Page. Join in either in the comments or by creating your own post and linking. Looking forward to your memories.
Baby Boomer
Rural Australia
My parents were not gardeners. I associate no plants with my mother but I have two that I associate with my Dad. The first was a weed “Mother of Millions.” Dad didn’t know it was a weed and loved the way it would fill a garden bed with its orange flowers quickly. The other is the May bush. Almost all my childhood houses had at least one of these bushes and my father pruned it yearly. That in itself was nothing apart from the precision that he used in the process. Each branch was trimmed individually, making sure that the cut was at the exact point where two branches would emerge, not one. It would take him a day just to do one tree. It always looked sad when he finished. A perfect square and bare. Come the spring however, the new growth would be weighed down with a profusion of flowers.

© irene waters 2017

© irene waters 2017
The generation before my parents gave me some excellent gardeners. My mother’s mother and her husband had a wonderful garden divided into garden rooms well before Peter Cundall made the idea universal. They grew all their own veggies and had chooks. In the flower garden they had a wonderful shrub, a Brunsfeldsia, whose flowers changed colours from vivid violet fading to a lavender blue and then white which is how it got its common name Yesterday, today and tomorrow. Whenever I see them I think of her. Another plant she loved was a cassia. They reminded her of Queensland where she had grown up. They too I discovered are a weed and are spread by every bird that visits.
On my Father’s side my great aunt and great uncle had a huge garden that eventually became my parents. We loved going there as kids as there were hidden pathways and tunnels and gorgeous flowers. A huge magnolia tree makes me think of of the garden where my father is buried but her rose garden was exquisite and the aroma beautiful. It wafted into the lounge room and brought the outdoors in.
Thank you for the prompt. Now for your memories……
City Australia
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