A Whisper of Urine

I wanted to tell you about an incident in the toilets of the Green Cow last Friday. I think I was being a good bloke but for all the airs and graces, they really should keep an eye on the bogs. I have been told I have the eye of the entertainer, and on Friday I had the eye of the janitor, attention to detail, and without quick thinking a potential embarrassment of epic proportions (nearly).

Around the 4th course of 7, after a few pints and a cocktail I was about to break the seal, to spend a penny, to rinse the prince (as it were). Unisex toilets… Discuss. No room for error in these bogs, no sprinkles before you tinkle, or during or after. And when I arrived in toilet one out of 3 (I think) the lid was up, seat down, and a unhealthy spattering of moisture encircling the floor at the base of the porcelain. Then just on the seat were 2 drops of dubiously coloured liquid, not water unless from a rusty radiator, but the heated towel rail showed no evidence of being recently bled, certainly not by the last visitant. Conclusion: some one had sprinkled, leaving it for me to sort out. In a Unisex toilet you must always leave the toilet as pristine as possible for the following visitor, and unfortunately having not seen who had visited before, this mess was now my mess to clear up. Deep Joy.

As luck or misfortune would have it, there was no toilet roll anywhere in the loo, not in cupboard, nor on cistern, just rolled up flannels neatly lined up in a wicker tray and several screwed up in a wicker basket below the basin. A slight dampening, and then I leaned over to wipe clean the seat, then the floor in a wide arc across the slate, shimmering and making the place wetter than previously stumbled on. Flannel into the basket. The second flannel was dry and used to dry the seat, but only really ended up pushing the moisture around as some cheap tea towels do, but it worked better on the floor, so that was 2 down. The third and final, wiped the seat, dried the seat and gave a final flourishing once over on thew floor, leaving the toilet area suspiciously cleaner than it had probably been all night. I did my business, made sure I couldn’t be implicated in any way and left a completely sterile crime scene, “The Cleaner” had sorted it. Unlocking the door, and walking back to my chair at the table I cast a cursory glance over the potential dirty bastard who had left me to clean up his mess, to save my own skin should someone have visited the same loo and noted it was me who exited last. Theres no excuses, only ridicule and disgust.  

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