Up until I was twelve, at what point I went to a boarding school, I had to do all my "deliveries" in an outhouse at the end of our garden, inside it, there was a plank with a hole in it, covered by what looked like a big saucepan lid. There were old newspapers there for... you know and the ink from those blackened our butts. It wasn't very pleasant in the middle of winter, when it was freezing cold to cross the snowed garden to do our business there... It's one thing of my childhood that I don't miss...