Hello dear readers.
Many apologies for the extended radio silence in the last couple of days. As I mentioned previously, Friday was the big leaving party. This in turn meant that yesterday was recovery day. I might have managed a few words but there would have beeen no guarantee of any kind of lucidity, sentence structure, or in fact, real actual words. At best you might have got something on the lines of fire bad; tree pretty (kudos if you get the ref!).
However this sunny Sunday morning finds yours truly rested, hydrated, ready and raring to go. So let's, shall we? Yeah, let's.
As you can tell from the post title I'm staying highbrow and following up a post about my trousers with a post about toilets.
First of I'll set the scene for you lovely people. It's a Friday night in my native Leeds, a largish city in the north of England. I'm out with my former colleagues and the wine is flowing like wine. So are the beer, cocktails, and shorts and mixers for that matter. Yup, it was that kind of night, and the thing about that kind of night is the more you drink the more necessary trips to the smallest room become.
Now most of my former colleagus are lovely and very considerate people. For this reason the bar we were frequenting had been vetted by means of a phone call to enquire about wheelchair friendliness. We had been informed that the bar had a disabled loo, yes! This might be a fact that you perhaps think should be self evident but in many cases it simply isn't (Yes Sandanista I'm looking at you!). However with this information gained and after more than a few drinks I enquired at the bar for the whereabouts of said facilities and was told they were upstairs. They avoided the ultimate irony by having a lift though, so that was alright.
The bar staff member then asked me to wait whilst somebody came to take me up as I was clearly unable to do this all by my widdle lonesome (I said I could but I don't think she believed me). As you can imagine, all this took time, and things were getting a little more pressing on the wee-wee front. It was, therefore, with slight annoyance that I noted the several pieces of bar furniture that rode down with the lift. Eventually, after unpacking the lift, taking the slow journey up, and finding my way to the opposite side of the busy restaurant that lay upstairs I could once more be at peace with my bladder. Aaaaaaaahhhh!
We'll fast forward now to the second bar we hit on our travels (after the customary losing of half the party.) Now this bar had my dream loo. Well, not my absolute dream loo. No gold plated toilet seat or scantily clad women handing out the paper towels but you get my meaning. It was on the same floor, it was open, it wasn't being used to store random crap and everything seemed to work too. Result! Shame we only stayed in the bar for one drink.
Afer that it was on to bar number three. A place of dancing and revelry (or was that just us?) and two-for-one Caiprinhas! Two rounds later that pesky nature was once again calling and I asked a compatriate to fight his way to the bar and enquire about the facilities. Yes, they had a loo, no it wasn't on this floor but yes they had a lift. Sadly this was currently out of order. Noooo!! luckily bar number three was slap bang next to bar number two, so with much excuse mes and coming throughs I made my way back there, used the facilities and headed back, feeling only slightly guilty for not buying a drink.
And that, to cut a long story slightly less long, was the nght.There are bits I'm skipping over for the sake of brevity of course but eventually it was time to head back to the warmth and safety of my bed. I made my apologies, much hugging ensued and I made my way down to the station to catch a cab home, stopping at the kebab house on the way, naturally. Some people might look at a bar's ambience, music, drink prices and offers, and other such criteria for nights out and if I'm honest so do I. The first three questions though always have to be, where are the toilets, do they work, and can I get to them?.It makes for so much more relaxing a night when you can.
Until next time.
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