Open Writing

In our State of South Australia, this true historical story took place over 100 years ago. It was when the ladies wore large crinoline skirts and even larger hats and the rich folk travelled about in open horse-drawn carriages called phaetons.

From time to time the Governor would set forth from the capital of Adelaide in the horse and carriage, to visit the outlying farms and villages and see how the locals were getting on. He would stop, be met by the men and go into the pub for a cool refreshing beer and a chat, and then move on to the next village.

One day, his Lady said that she wanted to accompany him so that the ladies would have somebody to talk to as well. He tried to dissuade her, after all, it was very hot, tiresome, dusty and the tracks were bumpy too. But she had her way and they set out.

At the first stop, he descended as usual to the pub but Her Ladyship remained in the carriage, sitting bolt upright, very regally, with her opened umbrella shading her from the sun. The womenfolk crowded around her for a chat and brought her refreshing glasses of water to slake her thirst in the hot, dusty climate.

So they departed and continued to the next stop. There the procedure was repeated, the womenfolk bringing her refreshing water and enjoying their chat, while he indoors had his beer.

At each stop she was refreshed with the lovely cool water and they were refreshed by the gossip from Adelaide and news from other villages.

Eventually they reached a village in the centre of the wine district, where they were to spend the night in the Inn before returning to Adelaide the next day.

Moshe, the Innkeeper, welcomed them and asked if there was anything they needed. Her Ladyship, at once, said she would like a bath in her room.. This caused a panic as people had their bath in the scullery— a part of the kitchen. Then somebody remembered that there was a discarded old tin bath being used in the barn to store potatoes and it was hastily found, and while carrying it to the Inn, they quickly blew off the dust and cleaned out the dirt while on the run, to reveal a rather battered and dented, enamel-chipped bath, which they carried in triumph to my Lady’s room. She was very good about it, brushing aside the apologies of Moshe.

But then Moshe had to speak up.

“Your Ladyship,” he said. “There is one problem. Water is as precious as gold here, while we have this terrible drought. Would your Ladyship mind having a bath in goats’ milk, or, maybe wine; we have plenty of wine available?”

“Thank you, Moshe. I do not fancy goats’ milk but the idea of a bath in wine is a new one. Thank you; I’ll take my bath in wine; nice cold wine on such a hot day is a lovely idea.”

Thankfully, Moshe prepared the bath and emptied eighty bottles of wine into the bath, making a note to add a few extra to the bill. The eighty bottles were finally emptied, the bath pulled in to My Lady’s bedroom and the door shut, leaving her Ladyship to her ablutions.

When finished, Moshe himself dragged out the bath, then put his preconceived business plan into execution. Slowly and carefully, he emptied the bath by refilling the eighty bottles of wine, in order to re-cork them and send them to Adelaide, where the ignorant townspeople wouldn’t know anything was amiss. They never did.

Finally, he filled the eighty bottles. Then he called out with delight, “Thank you, Lord, for this manna from heaven.”

You see, he discovered that instead of just having enough wine to fill the original eighty bottles of wine that he had put into My Lady's bath, to his delight and surprise he found that, after her bath, he was able to fill eighty one.

The moral of this story is, that when you travel and take drinking water with you—don’t ever forget to take an empty bottle too.

© John Powell