I was heartened to read about the existence of a Bathroom Readers Institute and even a national bathroom month in the US, as reported in Friday magazine.
This is a favourite pastime of members of my family and a source of amusement to those uninitiated in this pleasurable activity. The bathrooms in our house always had a collection of books and magazines thoughtfully left behind by someone who knew how important these were to help while away time.
Escaping into this room was a common ploy resorted to when one wanted to peruse something undisturbed by others clamouring to read the same book or magazine or section of a newspaper. Locking a bedroom door didn't always ensure uninterrupted reading bliss as there were other claimants to the privacy of the room. Securing oneself in such a place was usually frowned upon both by parents and your roommate. So the one refuge no one could possibly object to was the bathroom. Here one could concentrate on the matter at hand without fear of a whining sibling who somehow was convinced she or he had first right to the reading material. This was a haven where no one could possibly ask what you were doing with the door shut.
Something to read
Sometimes one caught a glimpse of a sibling frantically searching for something to read before going in. The desperation in the quest was dictated by the urgency of the call of nature. It was a race against time as the material remained as elusive as a will o' the wisp. Finally, one decided that time was running out and so settled on reading whatever was available in the room. One couldn't afford to be choosy at such a time.
Two holidays, one a recent reunion of family members in Spain, and the other a meeting of friends in the UK three years ago, made me realise the importance of these rooms. In the first instance, there were two of them to be shared by 13 people. The only problem was that only one could be used at a time as the antiquated hot water supply wouldn't allow for simultaneous use. Each time someone went in for a bath, there was a shout to inform everyone that one was going in to bathe and threatening dire consequences if anyone dared use the other bathroom.
The communication was generally effective but sometimes the message failed to reach everyone. So, an unsuspecting soul might innocently turn on a tap somewhere only to be greeted with shrieks of pain and anger as the bather was suddenly inundated in cold water.
Not appreciated
Under such circumstances the reading habit is not really appreciated as the reader takes his time, determined to finish the absorbing novel he has just started while a queue forms outside. At first the knocks on the door are gentle but when this action sees no reaction, there is a thundering of knuckles in unison with harsh words of retribution. After a long pause, the occupant emerges with a look on his face that says that his patience is wearing thin. Met with a barrage of complaints, he coolly says, "Do you mind, I was taking a bath". This is countered by the accusation that no one could hear the sound of water running. And then the eyes of the spectators fall on the book in his hand and they have their answer. There is silence - the silence of guilt. Each of these impatient souls is guilty of the same behaviour.
In the case of the friends' get-together, the battle of the bathroom occurred on days when the party had to leave at an unearthly hour in the morning to start a long drive to take in the sights. There were calls of "I'm first" followed by "But hurry up, you take so long to have a bath".
And then there's the latest development in this pastime. A friend tells me that her husband takes his laptop into the bathroom. I kid you not.
