The sun rises over the sandstone ridge line that delineates Glenworth Valley near Peates Ridge. Mist starts burning off and the tent littered valley floor reveals below. The festival is in its second day now and there are around12,000 people packed onto flat and sometimes soggy ground by a small tidal creek that dissects the site. I’ve walked a hundred meters or so up toward the northern ridge to dig my loo hole and find my view. About halfway through proceedings, I hear a sound behind me. Shit! I think I’ve been busted by some acid tripping sunrise seeking hippie kid.

Apparently there is some confusion as to whether I am actually sitting on my loo, lap top on bared thighs, tapping out these prose on poo, or am I comfortably in front of my PC with an empty bowel and squeeze free scowl. Good. I’m glad, it is always best left to the imagination don’t you think? All I can say is these wooden seats beat the plastic ones hands down in this sweltering heat. When did we start sitting on sweaty plastic anyway? My first memories of going to the loo always involved running my fingernails along the aged timber bench seat that spanned the width of the outhouse.

From where I’m sitting I can see the changes that have taken place here over the last 14 years. I bought my block at Barkers Vale as a clean slate, a stipulation from my financiers that has resulted in years of hard work and the satisfaction of transforming a degraded cow paddock into a model of sustainable farming and lifestyle. The throne I now sit upon was the first structure, a veritable icon that stuck out like the proverbial dogs balls when it arose from the red earth. I called it Mums throne, because it was she who threatened never to visit if all I had was hole in the ground.

Assembly of the Tilt Panel Thunderloo Dry Composting Toilet chamber

Assembly of the Tilt Panel Thunderloo Dry Composting Toilet chamber

Assembly of the Tilt Panel Thunderloo Dry Composting Toilet chamber