He has started to note the prices of toilet paper in the newspaper ads. You can't use newspaper with a septic tank. Clogs the pipes. It is so peaceful sitting up there on the old wooden seat, worn smooth and shiny with use. In the summer he leaves the door ajar and reads the Argus.
Night time is even better.
Sometimes the moon rises over the trellis while he is sitting there. And the old mopoke keeps him company. He reaches into the pocket of his overalls for his wallet. He counts out green pound notes, separating each one carefully. The older man shoves the money into his pocket.