"I dont need a a toilet roll, I wait until I get to work and have a dump there"
That's when I knew I had to sort myself out. I was 27 years old and still renting rooms in manky houses with malignant failed but still aspirant male careerists. It wasn't that bad a house really; the ever so posh landlady and her husband were just across the street and were clearly early adopters on the road to 'buy-to let' Nirvana.
I think it was because the rest of the residents were accountants and solicitors, Next suited Friday night kebab scoffers who had planned out their lives in accordance with the two thirds final salary scheme that would be theirs by right if they ticked all the right boxes and licked the appropriate arses.
No food other than condiments and dried pulses and pasta were kept in the kitchen. Any fool who left anything instantly edible would find it gone the next morning. It was the antithesis of communal living, where anything left unattended would be instantly snaffled and crowed over.
It was really the toilet rolls that got to me. You had to carry yours to the crapper, and make sure you left with it. I'm not sure if it was Thatcherism or Maoism, but it scarred me for life.
To this day I can't share a bathroom.
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13 comments:
Ah - that reminds me of camping in France.
The indignity of walking across a field with Andrex in hand announcing to one and all where you were going was bad news for a sensitive little soul like me.
That reminds me of a recent visit to Havana.
Bring your own toilet roll...everywhere.
KAZ
French toilets of the hole in the floor variety are ample reason not to visit Frogland.
MJ
Havana? Did you get to roll a cigar with your thighs?
I buy toilet rolls in huge parcels of 20 rolls at a time. Being female, you know, requires more squares. Having 2 females in the house is like a toilet roll black hole.
The WCM would probably rinse and reuse if he could.
You are obviously well prepared for emergencies Peevish. I salute your preparedness.
No, I didn't roll a cigar with my thighs.
But my tranny friend/travelling companion "C" rolled her thighs on a Cuban!
Aah, the memories of bedsits - in Birmingham, London, and Hull - roll in. But I'd forgotten about the bogrolls. Funny, now that we're all so engrossed in blogrolls, geddit. Ok, not funny.
nothing is worse than a share bath. nothing. not disease, not fiery death. AUGH.
A sublime elegy to the horrors of bathroom (and fridge) sharing with supposedly civilised people. You'd have probably been no worse off with scuzzy housemates. Or who didn't at least try to pretend they were not anyway.
I have heard of systems where each person in the house buys a different colour of toilet roll so that when that colour runs out, everyone knows whose turn it is to contribute next! It is certainly a bit mad to fill a fridge with four sets of milk and margarine, bread etc rather than have a kitty to which everyone contributes and a shopping rota.
I'm trailer park trash now as after two alcoholic housemates in a row, the second one a psycho, I couldn't take any more!
I don't know why it was, but there was always such a battle of wills amongst fellow housemates when it came to toilet rolls. We all knew it made sense to contribute to a kitty, from which household essentials could be purchases, but we never did. Or on the one occasion when somebody bought a 12 roll pack, nobody would have the sense to buy another load when we'd got down to the last one.
Thank goodness those days are behind me. Although our toilet at work ran out of paper at 10am yesterday. I went home.
How can you have such self control? When ya gotta go...
So you're the Glenn Miller impersonator in trap five!!!
Flatshares suck for guys because the other guys eat all your food. The way I got round it was to live with women who were diet nuts so they'd only eat their lettuce or tofu sausages. The best flatmate I had was an anorexic who used to eat bits of cucumber with chili pepper on them as a treat and would not have dreamed of touching my oven chips or frozen burgers.
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