I don’t get British bathrooms. First of all, there’s the whole separate hot tap / cold tap thingy. I understand why a century ago the hot water pipes came from the boiler, separate from the cold pipes. But by the time WW II had come and gone, surely technology had advanced to a single, adjustable faucet. I know we’d figured it out in Canada by the sixties. And yet, the Brits continue to build bathrooms with sinks with cold water freezing their right hand, while hot water scalds their left, instead of a stream of water at exactly the desired temperature. Unfathomable.
Then there’s the shower. I like to think I’m a reasonably competent person, but UK hotel showers are beyond my capabilities. And I know it’s not just me; two (equally competent) friends and I traveled to London years ago. After struggling for a good half hour to make the shower work – each of us took a shot at it – we finally called down to the front desk and the hotel owner came up to demonstrate how to turn it on. Between figuring out which knob adjusts the temperature, and which lever directs the appropriate showerhead (there is always at least two showerheads), and how to turn the damned thing on or off, well, it’s all very stressful. I never did figure out how to get hot water in that hotel in Stirling; that was a cold, brisk wash that day.
I did manage to master all the dials and levers here, but that in turn leads to another bone to pick: water pressure. Again, I find it incomprehensible – if flushing the toilet can generate such torrents (really torrential), why must the shower be a such a wimpy drizzle? Even the shower in my house is a weak one; after two months of well, really, rinses is the best word to describe them, I was so looking forward to a proper, hot, powerful shower here in Oban. But no, this hotel continues to maintain British plumbing standards. Unfathomable.