For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a thing with baths. I love them. Give me bubbles and a glass of wine and I’ll see you in an hour. Or two.
Baths are my happy place. My relaxation and mindful place. My thinking place. My don’t talk to me I’m soaking in my own dirt place.
So lets just dwell on this for a moment. My parents are both in other relationships, each with their own digs, and both – I repeat, BOTH – of them decided that the new modern thing during their house renovations was to remove the bath tub for a stand up shower. What the actual capital F. I know what you’re thinking, they might as well have thrown me in jail. Have you ever tried throwing a bath bomb in a shower? Or adding salts? Or drinking wine? I have and I can assure you, it’s not the same.
So here’s a story that will give you a little chuckle, and it starts in my new flat. My new flat that comes WITH a tub. Rejoice.
You can imagine the excitement when I moved in, right? I don’t need to go in to the squealing of joy, I’m sure. So there I am, a few days in to the new pad, with a few hours to spare before work. It was time. Bath time. I’d been waiting for this, and wanted to make it epic, so I hopped on a bus, specifically to go to Superdrug for a bath bomb – truth – and headed back with my Paradise Mango Sunset ball of joy to the flat.
And so starts what can only be described as a series of unfortunate events.
I walked in to the pub (I live above a pub) to show my friend my new bath bomb and generally expel my excitement in conversation. He dropped it. Cracked it straight down the middle. That’s okay, it will still work. God damn it Lawrence.
Anyway, no biggie. The hot waters of eden await. Up I went, removed all my makeup, grabbed my laptop for some tunes, got all the smells ready for the tub and shut the door behind me.
Shit. There’s quite an important feature of any bath tub that is pretty impossible to do without. Yes, we have running water, but no, there was no plug. This couldn’t be happening, could it? Who installs a bath tub with no damn plug in it? What is this torture?! What am I supposed to do, stop the water from draining with my butt cheek for goodness sake?
Back down I went. PoundStretcher, they’d have one, right? No Mr shop assistant I did not mean a plunger. I need a damn plug.
I was hysterical. Half crying, half laughing, as I slumped back up the stairs and rang mum to tell her the news. She found the whole situation extremely amusing. Quite mean actually.
“Isn’t there a hardware store opposite you?” She said. Hardware store! Of course!
Back down I went, across the road, to the treasure chest. It’s one of those shops that is just floor to ceiling stacked with things. All sorts of things one may need. The kind of place that has thousands of things in no obvious order, covered in signs warning you not to touch anything and ask for help. Mr that runs the store knows where every last nail is in that place, don’t you go messing the chaos.
“Hello! I need a bath plug water stopper thing, please!” I squealed, somewhat pathetically. The guy behind me gave a titter as Mr shop owner scurried off to the depths. I told queue guy the entire story. “But what size is the plug?” he asked. This, I kid you not, I responded by holding up one finger and gesturing it was the length from my nail to my knuckle. I didn’t have a tape measure, it seemed the best option.
Queue guy found this hysterical. “That’s exactly what my wife would have done!” I could tell I’d be the story of the day for his wife when he got home. Mr came back with a plug that seemed to be the same size as my finger ruler. Oh my god, finally.
“Do you take card?” Of course not. “Okay, hold that plug!! I’ll be back in 2 minutes!” I practically sprinted out the door to the Post Office hole in the wall. I could almost smell the mango.
I couldn’t have put my pin in faster to get that tenner. I didn’t even know how much the plug was, it would be less than a pound I was sure.
“Excuse me!” A voice came from behind me. It was queue man. I turned as I pulled the money from the machine, as he held out his hand to me. “Go and have your bath.” he said, and handed me the plug.
What a guy. I almost collapsed with laugher, relief and excitement at the same time, and sprinted back across the road and up the stairs.
Grabbed the laptop, stuck a sign on the door to warn off any further disruption, and with a shout of joy, popped the plug into the bath. It fit like a puzzle piece.
At last. Hot water in, mango sunset whatever it was fizzing away in two pieces, the scent of relaxation in the air, I sat in that tub until the water went cold.