During my youth, my family often spent summer holidays with my aunt and grandmother in the canton of Tessin, in Switzerland. As on any farm, there was always a lot of work to be done at my aunt’s small mountain farm, turning my summer holidays into a virtual summer work camp. Various tasks were assigned upon our arrival, so work began forthwith.

On sunny days, it was harder for me to turn the hay than go for a refreshing swim at the nearby lake, which prompted me to become a bit more resourceful. So, in order to be excused from my daily chores, I complained that I wasn’t feeling well and that I was plagued with recurring tummy aches. Back then, people relied more on nature’s remedies than on modern medicines to relieve common ailments.

‘No problem,’ my aunt quickly surmised. ‘I’ve got something that’ll chase those tummy aches right back to the city. Go to bed now and I’ll bring you something that’ll make you feel better in no time!' So, I obeyed and trudged on up to my room.

After a few moments, there she was standing in my room, armed with a mysterious bottle, a spoon and a piece of chocolate. At first, she only showed me the chocolate, taunting me with the likelihood of a delicious little treat. Referring to the piece of chocolate, she promised, 'You’ll get this if you’re a good boy; now, open your mouth and swallow what’s in the spoon'.

To be on the safe side I enquired, "What’s in the spoon, Auntie?"

She replied, 'It’s called Castor Oil and it’s a pleasant purgative; a wonder remedy for everything, but it doesn’t really smell too good. That’s why you should pinch your nose and swallow it right down, as quickly as you can.'

OK, she had the upper hand, but this was definitely the first and last time I was ever going to let her do this to me. I did as she suggested and swallowed the spoonful of oil… that disgusting stuff stuck to the roof of my mouth for the longest time and even the chocolate couldn’t appease the nausea that overcame me.

My aunt smiled lovingly, covered me with the blanket and showed understanding for the contorted expressions distorting my youthful face. On her way out, she mentioned that she had brought me the cutest little glass chamber pot, and that I would surely use it within the next few hours or so.

I whined, 'A chamber pot? I’m not a baby!' and gasped for breath…

'I know,' she replied, 'but you probably won’t have time to go downstairs to the toilet. You’ll be in a hurry, you’ll see!'

I won’t describe all of the feelings that overwhelmed me during the next few hours, except to say that it felt like all of the devils of purgatory were in my intestines, and it was time for the apocalypse. Now, I really did have a tummy problem, and what was worse; I was no longer master of the situation. Angrily, I stared at the bottle. I reasoned that the remainder of the contents of the bottle was going to end up in the chamber pot anyway, so why take the tortuous route, through my intestines? Why not simply send it there, directly?

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind that it became fact! I emptied what remained of the contents into the chamber pot and placed the now empty bottle in the middle of the night crockery. Later, when my worried aunt looked in on me, she saw the terrible mess... but before she could say anything, I explained, 'You see Auntie; even the bottle couldn’t hold back this horrible poison. It also needed the pot...’