Where did we leave off? Ah yes, the much anticipated, hot water, good pressure shower.
Okey doke. New question: what is it with ‘half-showers’? I don’t know what the name for them is, but yet again, any time I shower in the U.K. it is not in a neatly enclosed, fully wrapped shower stall, but rather some variation of a ‘we-couldn’t-decide-so-we-gave-up-halfway’ washing station. I get that in hotels, if they don’t have a tub with a shower in it, it is easier to have a shower stall that can be cleaned quickly and efficiently by the staff, hence the walk-ins in the spacious, well ventilated bathrooms. But I can honestly say, I have not seen one single shower/tub combo in a person’s home here that is not at least partially open to the rest of the bathroom. See Exhibit A.
So, on Friday, I stepped into the shower, adjusted the temperature and turned on the shower. Out it came – all over the bathroom. All over. It drenched the toilet, and the floor, and the rail with my towel, and, well, everything. Scout chose not to come through to find out what the screaming was all about because that room is her worst nightmare too.
I got the direction of the showerhead adjusted and finally had a beautifully hot, gratifyingly powerful shower. I was thoroughly enjoying it until I saw the steam. Now the rant takes a sharp left turn and veers into the world of steam, ventilation, and mold.
When I visited my parents in their pub in Cheddar in the 80’s, I asked why all the dresser drawers and wardrobe doors were left ajar. Mum showed me her favourite ultra-suede purse (it was the 80’s) which had mold on it (poor Norma, she loved that handbag). Britain is damp. Always.
When I moved into the house on Papdale last year, the property manager reminded me to always leave the window open when showering. (That’s nice in January.) The paperwork that came with the rental included instructions from the town council on how to avoid black mold – again, open your windows. How pleasant. For a country that is plagued by damp, they don’t seem to have come up with any truly viable systemic solutions, just stopgap measures.
As I said, whilst enjoying this wonderful shower, I saw the whole bathroom steaming up. As with every other ficking bathroom in the UK, there is no fan. (BTW, this is not a complaint about this cottage – this is frustration with an entire nation – ventilate your homes, people. FFS.) Oh, wait – there is a long string tied to the wall running from the sky light in the ceiling – maybe I should open that and let the moisture escape up that way. Except it’s raining. Absolutely pouring. So that’s hardly the solution. Clearly, I am meant to leave the bathroom door open to let the steam dissipate. Well that will be fun when my brothers-in-law come for a visit. Privacy? What privacy?
Well, once it was all over and I had wiped down the bathroom, I was warm, clean, mildly pissed off, and ready for a nice cup of coffee in front of the space heater. Space heater? you ask – well, that’s next week’s rant.