We went in search of the ultimate toilet. I say ultimate, not because I expect it to have bells and whistles on it, or a bottom-shining brush, but because this time round, I want comfort. The one that presently resides in a skip outside, had a crack in it (not guilty: I do believe our previous cleaning lady, Jean, dropped a full bottle of Penhaligon's fragrance on it. We were too distracted by her rejoicing in the expensive wafts she'd created, with only the merest hint of an apology, to notice a small hairline crack in the rim.) Hard water can seal such a crack for only a limited number of years...
I never found that seat particularly welcoming. For me it was always the wrong shape. So yesterday I was intent on finding a better seat for my seat.
You would not dream of buying a bed without lying in it. You would not consider buying a bath without sitting in it (with matching socks, and no stray toes peeking through - experience speaking here..) So why, oh why do we look at a toilet and say, "That'll do me, guv." The stores line them up in full public view attached to walls, with not a dicky bird's chance of trying them out for size. Quite ridiculous.
So tomorrow morning we are going out early with our premier plumber in search of the Subway. Yes, that's the name of the model. Though why a lavatory should select the name of an international sandwich bar, I really have no idea. It will no doubt have one of those sophisticated self-closing lids. The last word in posh. However, in our house we are used to toilet lids coming down like the clappers. Sandwiching has become a common problem.
One we won't miss.
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| This didn't so much as go down the pan........ |
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| Will this be man enough for the job? |
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