Jim
Ringleader
For us civilised people venturing into the third world it can be rather shocking. Especially when it comes to ablutions. I recall recently the strange calls and screams in the night as I quickly made my way toward the nearest toilet. I smelled it, long before I saw it, but needs must, I’d put off this shower long enough.
I forced myself to be brave and pulled open the door. The pungent aroma comes over me in waves, a combination of stale urine, damp, rot and that diarrhoea smell you find all over the third world. This would normally take your breath away but I was holding it.
Searching in the half light I found those horrendous stand up toilets that you see in such uncivilised countries. Having to aim for such a small hole, while standing up, leads to poor accuracy and around the holes was plenty of crap and debris that had missed the target. As I retched, my body movement triggered an electric light and as it flickered on, so did my realisation that they weren’t toilets, I was looking at the showers! That shower could wait. I’m a celebrity get me outa here.
The exit door needed to be pushed to open. Last decorated in the 1950’s, a million excrement stained hands had removed the paint exposing a dark wood that I was never going to touch. Kicking the door open in panic and now with a violent need to breathe, I try to make my escape but it bounces back and slams shut in my face. It touched me! I kick it again softer this time so I can step through before it closes. It slams shut behind me, but I can’t breathe yet. I must take at least ten paces away from the toilet block for the air to be clean.
I can’t wait to leave this Swansea campsite.
I forced myself to be brave and pulled open the door. The pungent aroma comes over me in waves, a combination of stale urine, damp, rot and that diarrhoea smell you find all over the third world. This would normally take your breath away but I was holding it.
Searching in the half light I found those horrendous stand up toilets that you see in such uncivilised countries. Having to aim for such a small hole, while standing up, leads to poor accuracy and around the holes was plenty of crap and debris that had missed the target. As I retched, my body movement triggered an electric light and as it flickered on, so did my realisation that they weren’t toilets, I was looking at the showers! That shower could wait. I’m a celebrity get me outa here.
The exit door needed to be pushed to open. Last decorated in the 1950’s, a million excrement stained hands had removed the paint exposing a dark wood that I was never going to touch. Kicking the door open in panic and now with a violent need to breathe, I try to make my escape but it bounces back and slams shut in my face. It touched me! I kick it again softer this time so I can step through before it closes. It slams shut behind me, but I can’t breathe yet. I must take at least ten paces away from the toilet block for the air to be clean.
I can’t wait to leave this Swansea campsite.
