I promised further shots of the bathrooms in this house. The bathrooms which let down what is a perfectly nice house in all other respects. Here is the tub in the en suite bathroom:
It is not too terrible in the grand scheme of things. There is, as in the other bathrooms a great deal of wood panelling I could live without, and the virulent spider plant gives me the itch. I also cannot get used to the fact that you are allowed to have plug sockets, power outlets and all manner of electrical equipment lying about in bathrooms with gay abandon. The nine inch portable television suspended on a bracket with wires swooping down towards the large expanse of water, and the hand held remote control on the shelf next to the bath all fill me with a tearing dread and memories of all those thrillers where the killer chucks a three bar electric fire into the bath while the victim lies in a pool of Radox induced froth dreaming of the day she will be able to afford Diptyque candles, shortly before she ends up smelling like a pine scented barbecue.
The worst offender in the matter of bathrooms has to be the children’s bathroom, which has this:
Which is what I refer to as the Buck Rogers bath, tastefully rendered in moulded plastic, with emphasis on the mould. It is so alarming the girls have refused to go in it. Oscar and Jason have used it once. I think there was some sort of wager involved. It was not a spectacular success and we have avoided it ever since.
Hopefully this will be the final part of Nasty Bathrooms of the world. It is unlikely. I have in fact seen several more hideous bathrooms on my travels, but as we were doing Open House viewings at the time, and I had to pretend to be a multi millionaire prospective buyer, and not in fact, a nosey little twerp from Glenfield, I could hardly whip out my camera and take pictures of pink frosted swans dancing across acres of glass shower screens. Sad but true.
And now I must retire. It is 12.45 a.m. I have to get up in six hours. I am wide awake, but I will not feel this alert and refreshed at seven in the morning. We have to be at the ferry port at eight fifteen. The ferry leaves at nine, but we have to be there forty five minutes early, even though we have pre-booked, and pre-paid. Go figure.
There will be no more blogging until I am in Blighty.
Chocks away.
Bon voyage, Mrs W! Thank you for finishing off the bathrooms for us voyeurs, and I hope your neck’s better by the time you get home.
That looks like an alien pod with a rather nasty bendy probe.Not that I speak from experience,you understand.Safe journey home for all the Boos.
Hope your trip home is uneventful. This is where I am in life – where uneventful is bliss.
Just before I left Toronto for the US I finally renovated my two formerly hideous washrooms after living there for 6 years.
They are absolutely beautiful now. I could cry, really, as I use each day a low-flow shower identical to the Buck Rogers picture above.
Guys
I used to live in a house with an avocado green 1920′s bathroom suite and black tiles. I finally got it replaced and them moved out. It’s always the way.