As the missing in transit LED shower tale runs and runs, I thought I would add a touch of glamour to the blog this month. The perfect opportunity presented itself at a friend’s shower in Bristol with its disco globe ball. Apologies for the photo, but I was having a bad hair day extraordinaire best viewed in soft focus. However, I think you must agree that the disco ball is quite impressive. Really it should be in dangerous showers but those blogs were up and posted before the Bristol trip.
To continue the theme I asked a select few family and friends to come up with a fabulous showering experience they had had. I expected tales of tropical showers in secluded rainforest glades. The results were not what I had expected, though, to prevent the blog descending into soft porn, I did have to omit a few nominations.
Suhith came up with the huge walk-in shower complete with walls encrusted with flashing LED lights, and all in a canal boat. Not our canal boat sadly so we haven’t actually used it, but just walking past it with our clothes on was impressive enough. The shower in Protea, as already mentioned in an earlier blog, is great; it’s the fawn coloured GRP surround that doesn’t quite make it into the glamour section. Suhith also nominated two other showers she hasn’t had! Namely, the Greenpeace solar showers at Glastonbury (4 hour queue time) and the solar camp shower belonging to the next tent, also at Glastonbury. To that end any first shower after Glastonbury, mud or no mud, has to rate pretty highly in anyone’s book…
Lisa plumped for a shower in Berlin, which she had on the 1st September 2001. What was so good about it? Well it wasn’t actually the shower at all. It was just the evening when England beat Germany 5-1 away in a world cup qualifier. For English football fans relive those past glories here. To German readers of the blog, probably best to just ignore it.
Jonathan’s (nephew) most fabulous shower (though to be fair, picked by me, not him) was indeed in the rain, when he was ten. Unfortunately not tropical rain, nor in a rainforest, but on the back deck of Dianthus (another canal boat) just south of Birmingham. It worked really well, in that he lathered up well, the rain washed it off, and because it was raining so hard there were no passers by to report us for child cruelty. At that time I think we hadn’t found the shower in Dianthus and I probably paid him double his usual pocket money, so a result all round.
Mu’s best shower was under a tree on the Gibb River Road in North West Australia, with Eric holding a sheet up to protect her modesty. Mu is not a cold shower person and for the preceding two weeks, that was all that had been on offer, other than a wipe over with a flannel or a dip in a pool with a couple of crocodiles. They were heading to my brother’s house in Broome and Mu had been dreaming of a hot shower ever since Day 1 of the trip. Still 24 hours out from Broome, Chris arrived with a beetroot birthday cake for Eric, a roast chicken, and, best of all, one of those camp shower bags that you heat up in the sun so that his mother could at last have a decent shower. (Before anyone says “aah what a perfect son”, just remember he moved twelve thousand miles away, while I am just two hours down the M1.)
And finally Lyds (niece), who, once she realised any choice would have to involve her showering alone, texted “ha ha, well I really like your shower!” Cue warm fuzzy feelings until I remembered how often she’s showered round at ours when I wasn’t around to check how long she was in there…