What is it that really stirs the emotions of even the iciest character? What one single concept has the power to destroy even the greatest leader? Yes we may whimper at donkey abuse adverts, weep at some poor undeserving celebrity trauma, but there is one issue that can bring even the butchest, angriest, roughest and toughest man or woman to tears. And that issue, my dear, dear readers, is a lukewarm bath.
There are many causes for this particular distress, one being miscalculations in the hot to cold water ratio, another, and this problem is growing in households across the country as the price of water rises, is being the last to use the bath water.
This latter problem is probably the deadliest of all. Knowing that you are expected to plunge yourself into a temperature suited more for a polar bear is bad enough, but seeing the grimy water, most likely decorated with the previous occupant’s dirty scum, scraped off their bodies’ just moments before is truly soul destroying. Often the brave will opt for the quick in and out, with just a brisk flick of the flannel here and there. But those of us who can’t bear the idea of being dirtier after the bath than we were before we got in will spend minutes, possibly hours watching the water darken and fungus grow around the edges. We are well aware of the consequences of running a fresh bath. Cries of, “Waste not want not!” and “Don’t you know there is a recession?” will rain down upon you like Pompeian ash from Mount Vesuvius, and like the ash, may just kill you. So from fear of the nagging we will tentatively place a toe in the murky depths, shudder at the clammy coolness and suspicious grit at the bottom, and quickly immerse ourselves, sometimes with tears streaming from our eyes, and moans escaping at every turn.
It is not just the quality of the water; it is the indecisiveness of the temperature. It will never be freezing, just on the tipping point, at that congealing stage. At least if it had ice floating along the top it would be refreshing, instead it leaves you feeling sticky yet shivery, and your emotions reach an all time low. Lying there, in lukewarm water, it is common for people to experience miserable epiphanies about the point of life, or rather, the non-existence of one. We can be perfectly content, jovial and even hysterical before we place our bodies into that water, but as soon as we are surrounded by that sick joke of a bathing experience, we feel positively depressed. We start to emphasise with fishes dying slowly on the pier, or the poor souls who spend their days receiving limp handshakes. We feel utterly robbed, deprived of what is rightfully ours. We know, as we sit in that watery pit, that our evening is ruined.
And why? Because someone, more than likely a particularly dirty someone, had the cheek to get in there before you. Or use up all the hot water. Or get all of the flannels wet so that they bring you no relief either. Very soon after the initial depression, the anger kicks in. “They will pay, whoever they may be, for making me suffer!” Desperately, we try to wash without getting wet (our attempts are almost always futile) and then we leap out (moaning when we find our towels have been left in a puddle on the floor) and seek the criminal. If no one is found, then we feel worse, however when we succeed, the glee is unlike anything before. Sometimes we will use violence, for instance throwing the culprit in the water that you have just exited (this is my own personal favourite punishment as the water has reached its peak of awfulness). Or perhaps we will be more subtle. For instance making their hot beverages with only mild water, or hiding the hairdryer so that they are forced to dry off slowly. The more original, the better.
“Why not take a shower?” I hear you cry. This is a classic soap-dodger response, as it shows that you do not value the beauty of a full body wash. A shower, though admittedly useful in a hurry, is not by any stretch of the imagination, a bath. Here is why. In a shower, dagger-sharp sheets of water whip your skin, and power-showers have even been known to beat people to the floor. It is impossible to wash your whole body at once, and you are forced to bend yourself into all number of positions. A bath on the other hand is luxurious and calming. You can add all sorts of bath fizzers, bubbles and confetti, and the most you’ll risk is a rash. You can place candles around a bath, and sit back and relax with a book or a drink or perhaps even both. Rubber ducks, wind up frogs and plastic boats make bath times more fun in ways that a shower never can. These facts prove that a bath should be both hygienically and morally better than a shower, however this is most definitely not the case in a second, third or fourth hand bath.
By now you would have gathered the seriousness of this situation. Across the country, bathes are becoming more and more disappointing. Nigella Lawson sums up the issue in this statement. “There is nothing worse than an under-stuffed potato, except perhaps, a lukewarm bath”. And it is on this note that I go now to run myself a bath with use of a thermometer, and barbed wire to deal with any bath-jackers. So my dear readers, I urge you to go forth and do the same, until this bath time crisis is resolved.
CocoaKobana, bath time fanatic. xx
here here :P xx
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