I feel a bit embarrassed today, as last night I dreamt I’d been walking around with my jumper on inside out, but woke up before I’d had time to put that right. The only way I can save face is to have a dream set the day before in which I write BE CAREFUL WITH JUMPER on the back of my hand.
I’d decided to buy a wooden toilet seat so I headed off to Wilkinsons. On the way a woman coming toward me on the pavement asked me the time. But she was still about 60 feet away, barely a dot on the horizon. I’m sure there are EEC guidelines on this – isn’t the maximum distance for time enquiries 8 feet? I think I remember reading that. Maybe she’d forgotten to brush her teeth. Good to know that even in Gravesend communitarian spirit isn’t dead. Or perhaps she’d been rehearsing her enquiry the length of the street and nervously mistimed the actual performance. We’ve all done it. I’ve made similar faux pas myself out of nervousness, like once when I was a student I held a door open for a similarly distant woman who I’d also forgotten was a feminist. I didn’t see her again for seven years, but when I did I explained that I’d merely held the door open to be ironic. That night, for the first time in seven years, I slept like a baby.
They had plenty of toilet seats in Wilkinsons – some black, some white, one with a mirrored surface. Quite the cornucopia. I was intrigued by the possible emboldening benefits of the convex mirrored surface but still plumped for the wooden one. It’s a pine effect toilet seat. I will feel like such a charlatan when I’m having a shit later.
I then left Wilkinsons and used a public lavatory. A bloke, pointing at my toilet seat – the pine effect one I had bought; he wasn’t in the cubicle with me, initially – said, “You’re a bit fussy aren’t you?” I explained that if men can take their own snooker cue to a pub I can take my own toilet seat to a public lavatory to enjoy the sport of my preference. I hadn’t intended this to sound flirtatious, but we soon had some explaining to do as the St George’s Centre security staff began to pile in. I had previously had a rigid policy of not talking in public lavatories, which I intend to return to as of tomorrow.
On the way to the bus stop I couldn’t help smile at the toilet seat. I felt excited about the later fitting. It’s good to have something to look forward to.