It’s time to educate a few people on “Toilet Etiquette”. While I understand that nattering on about loos might be embarrassing for some, I need to affirm that rather than lowering the tone here, I am essentially raising a few standards. But first there is one thing I want to clarify: what you do in the privacy of your own bathroom is your own business and I don’t want to know about it. It’s what takes place in shared rest rooms that concerns me, predominantly the staff toilets that I visit five days a week, on the trot.
My primary observation is that our unisex toilet in the English block at school NEEDS to have a ping pong ball installed for the benefit of female users, such as myself, who don’t appreciate sitting with their feet in a puddle of wee. I’m just saying...
Now, about the ladies’ toilets - there are five cubicles and I prefer to frequent Numbers 3 and 4 only. There’s nothing wrong with numbers 1 and 5, it’s just that I like symmetry and prefer both of my walls to match. That’s normal, isn’t it? Not weird at all. As far as Number 2 is concerned, a couple of years ago I had the misfortune of having the pungent stench of vomit attacking my nostrils as I entered the main doors. There were some worrisome noises coming from Number 2 and before I could say “Who’s doing the multi-coloured yawn in there?” I was drawn into the situation. Hey, I am a compassionate person after all. Although the vomit was eventually cleaned up, that pong lasted for weeks. The incident has scarred me.
Speaking of Number Two - DON’T. Unless you have been struck by a sudden episode of Guardia, save it for when you get home. I don’t want to sit on a warm throne and I don’t want to you to share your personal fragrance with me. Is that clear? In many cases bowels are like animals. If you treat them well, they can be tamed and trained.
|Do not disturb!|
And speaking of speaking - DON’T. I’m in that cubicle with a purpose and I don’t like Toilet Talkers. It’s business only for me and if you want to have a discussion about what you’ve got in the crock pot for dinner tonight I will SHUSH you (unless you happen to be one of my many superiors, in which case I’ll attempt a few agreeable whimpering sounds) and you can guarantee that I'm sulking in there. Just leave me out of it. I don’t want to know that you’re listening for my answer or any other sounds I may make in the process. Even I don’t want to hear any tinkling which is why I’ll usually begin by scrunching up a heap of toilet tissue to mute it before blocking my ears to avoid offending myself.
Something else confuses me. Why have I stumbled upon the toilet seat up in a ladies’ toilet stall? I know it wasn’t the cleaner because I’d seen her scouring the basins earlier in the day (V does a splendid job incidentally). I’m further mystified by the footprints on the porcelain. If it’s a cultural thing I’ll try to be tolerant if you try not to use Numbers 3 and 4.
Finally, if there’s a soap dispenser - USE IT! Enough said.