On the way back from pricing up items for the car boot sale we're going to to raise money for my jaunt to Peru next year, my mum and I stopped off at the Red Brick Mill so she could buy a fancy birthday card. (For those of you not in the know, the Red Brick Mill is a converted mill which is now home to lots of places selling highly fancy and even more highly expensive kitchenware, furniture and other such things.) That task achieved we milled about (ha!) for a while, admiring all the nice things. You can buy special devices for cutting the foil off wine bottles from these people. You can buy pasta hats. But among all this entirely sensible, albeit unnecessary, stuff, there was one item that was not only extremely crazy but also mildly terrifying.
Hidden among the fancy, modern, desirable bathroom fittings was a device that should never have been inflicted upon this world.
A toilet.
A white, porcelain toilet.
A white, porcelain toilet with a £899 price tag.
A toilet... which was square.
I have never before sat upon a display toilet in a furniture and fittings shop, but by God I sat on that one. Looking back, I can only wish that I hadn't. It was deeply, deeply unsettling, and I fear I may be carrying the scars with me for a long time to come.
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2 comments:
There, there, love.
(I'd pat you on the shoulder, but as you're 100 miles away I don't think it'd be worth it for the comfort it would bring. Perhaps I'll do so tomorrow.)
I'm pretty sure you could sue for scars from a display model toilet.
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