Today I did something I swore I’d never, ever do. It crosses a line. It breaks a boundary. It turns around, pokes me in the chest and says ‘Ha! I knew you’d break eventually’.
I bought some pot pourri for the downstairs loo.
It was really down to frugality. And olfactory preservation. Try as I might, teaching my son to flush the loo, let alone aim straight, is a fruitless task. And as such, the downstairs loo comes with a bit of a health and safety warning. Every time a guest ‘just nips to the loo’ I morph into a frantic loon and try to leap in front of them to check the battle zone. Often, I am too late and a mere verbal warning must suffice. ’I apologise for anything you might find….my son, you see….’.
And they’re in. I can only imagine what they might be finding. The framed poster above the loo reads ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’. It should, of course, read ‘Ignore the floating poo, wipe the seat of splashback and Carry On’.
I get through more dettol wipes in there than any woman should, but the downstairs loo fights back. It is a place for reflection. It is a place any guest might visit, and whilst getting about their business, take a good look around and note every detail. If in for a longer stint, they might peruse my loo library, which consists of a variety of anecdotal books (usually gotten for Christmas), a few Schott’s Miscellanies and an ancient, quirky little book I found in a second-hand book store about the meaning of London street names.