Here in our part of Scotland what we know as restrooms in the U.S. are sometimes labeled “WC” for “water closets.” Woe to the unsuspecting tourist who desperately needs a toilet and has no idea what the small “WC” sign on a building means.
Toilets in this part of Scotland are called “loos.” And the toilets are frequently labelled “male” and “female.” Humorous considering the fact that they clearly do not reproduce. Finding public toilets as you head north from here to the Black Isle is as difficult and frustrating as finding the end on a clear roll of tape.
Public toilets are so scarce that travelers must resort to extreme measures when they can’t hold it any longer. Or at least—I have. Leaning against the back of a vacant building. Hanging onto metal racks for support in the back of a closed store. Hiding behind the open door of the car on the side of the road. Not. Fun.
However, for folks like me—necessary. If I were not so adamantly opposed to drugs I could make a fortune peeing for drug tests.
And, when one can find a public toilet—dangers abound. The metal hardware has been painted over so many times that when one latches the door it’s a fight to get it open again. And, because the partitions stretch from floor to ceiling—there is no way to climb over or go under when the door won’t open again. On one road trip, it took two men and a handful of tools to extricate Alan from a toilet stall when he couldn’t open the door. The men had to unscrew and take the hinges off the other side to let him out.
Me? I’m so claustrophobic that I take my chances with not locking the door. If some desperate fellow traveler bustles in and plops down on my lap—I’ll just hope they have good aim.
And cold? Scotland never has what a Texan would consider a summer. When it gets over 70 degrees, folks complain that they are “broiling.” Many of the WCs along the way are not heated. Cold metal seats, cold carved granite seats—they are out there, folks!
Some bathrooms—even in a large hospital across the water still have big tanks of water hanging on the wall under the ceiling. A long tube runs down from the water tank to the toilet bowl. It flushes by pulling a chain with a wooden handle at the end.
Many of the more modern toilets have buttons on the top. The buttons are divided in half. The user is supposed to push the big part of the button to flush poo, and the smaller part for pees. The problem is that those buttons are hard to press down—especially for older folks. It is perplexing to me that the hospital across the water with the tanks on the wall would install push button toilets when so many of their patients lack the strength to push the buttons.
Perhaps it’s in poor taste to write a blog about toilets—but I don’t think so. God has marvelously created us. Our bodies are designed to take in and let out. We can’t survive if the process stalls.
Our bodies are not one member, but many members. “God has set the members, each one of them, in the body as He pleased… those members of the body which seem to be weaker are necessary.”1 Corinthians 12:22.
When I first arrived in Scotland from the U.S., I used to aggravate Alan by calling Scotland a “third world country.” But I’ve been stuck in one of those public toilets myself—with no one within hollering distance to help. Toilet dramas have found their way into several of my Miz Mike books and other books of mine which are set in Scotland.
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Ha! That was delightful! I needed a good chuckle today. I swear we have only two kinds of bathrooms here, old metal, rusty, barbaric things or else these super fancy smart toilets nobody knows how to use. You stand in front of the soap dispenser and it just starts pumping out all over the floor. You can’t rinse your hands because the sinks have no faucets and the sensors are now plugged, probably from all that soap.
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Yes, you are so right! I encountered a bathroom like that in Dallas. By the time I left, my handbag was full of soap, my hands were slippery, I had powder in my face from bending down too closely to attempt to figure out how to turn on the water…and my skirt was wet at the bottom from a squirt of water shooting up from the toilet. I was a nervous wreck!
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Personally, I do not think this blog was in poor taste at all. Some people are just too “refined,” or shall I say SNOBISH? As you said, Steph. This is the way God made us, and everyone does it, even the snobs. I found your article quite amusing and reminiscent of the years I spend in Illinois with their metal seats in the park outhouses. Oh dear. Talk about cold.
As far not finding a public bathroom in northern Scotland, I guess they just assume everyone knows how to fend for themselves. Yes, I’ve made plenty of stops along the road, behind a tree or bush, but never thought about behind a building. Clever. I understand that’s what happens a lot in Parish. LOL
Thanks for the chuckle. I really needed that today. Keep up the great writing, my dear friend. Say Hi to Alan from me, and thank him for being so patient with us Americans who have a tendency to think all the world should be like us (More’s the pitty). Give Savannah a big hug and kiss from me.
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Thanks, Sharon! You are wonderful. Life is a great experience on both sides of “the pond” and everywhere else. God makes it grand! May He bless you greatly and give you peace and comfort.
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Oh this did make me laugh, Steph. I grew up in houses with those ‘tanks’ on the walls above the loo and a chain to pull to flush it. We called them cisterns and thought it was quite normal and perfectly civilised. I love your different perspective on British habits and customs although I wish we had the summer heat you were accustomed to in Texas. I love your humour but yes, getting stuck in the loo is not fun. Poor Alan. Sending hugs and wishing your strength for the rest of the winter, my friend. xxxx
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Thanks, Val! We had an outhouse when I was a kid – but I had never seen the water boxes on the walls. From a line in a song from The Music Man – I thought a cistern was a water well on someone’s porch! We had an elderly lady down our road who had a well on her front porch and offered cold water to anyone walking or riding their bikes past her house. Anyway, I’m praying for you for strength for the rest of the winter. And I just read your blog – congratulations! Especially on surviving all the red tape with grace and good humor!
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I don’t know about grace, Steph, but good humour is the only way, really. Otherwise, madness ensues. 🙂
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