Oh for a bacon roll!

 
 
 

Bacon Roll via Google image

 

I went to London & no I didn’t buy a heat magazine! My reason for going can be seen here. 

This post is about an awful experience that even now I cannot believe happened to me on the way. Going to London is a big thing for us. We don’t do it often & are still like excited school children when we do. We had decided to drive to Wimbledon, park the car & get the train into Olympia where the exhibition was.

On the Tuesday before the visit I managed to contract cystitis. Now, I can see all you ladies wincing. It is such an awful thing to have especially if you have to venture outside your front door. Unfortunately, it turned itself into a water infection but the up side was that I could have some anti-biotics.

So…we set off on Friday with a tiny bit of trepidation about ‘down there’ but with a fair wind we felt we should be OK! My dearest husband had got the timings just right & the traffic on the M25 had been kind to us. We were making good progress & I was planning a toilet stop as soon as we arrived to park the car.

Unfortunately, the traffic around Wimbledon was chaotic. I don’t know if it is always like that or just when the tennis tournament is on but if seemed the world & his wife were out & every traffic light was trying out that new red colour!

I’m sure you have already seen the scenario coming up! I began to feel a little desperate & started that ‘there must be a loo around here’ search. Needless to say there were just large houses with forbidding looking entrances. Hubby was concerned. I was gripping the road atlas (we don’t have satnav!) & he could tell things were getting serious. When I started breathing out loud he knew action needed to be taken. In my mind I had this awful thought – what if we don’t find one? I was going to meet people. I couldn’t go with wet everything!

We then came into a stretch of road with a few shops so I suggested I look out for a cafe. Spotting a sign I shouted that we had to stop. Now regular readers to this blog will know that my OH does not break rules of any sort; his OCD will not let him but he did stop on double yellow lines & out I flew into this kebab house. “I’m really sorry but I’m desperate for the toilet & there aren’t any around. Could I use yours please?” I said without drawing a breath.

From the other wide of the counter I was met with incredulity. “There are public toilets down the road,” he said pointing into the distance.

“But I’m really desperate. We’ve been driving for a long time.”

“Well you’ll have to buy a bacon roll or something.”

“But I haven’t any money. My husband is trying to park the car. Please!”

“There are public toilets down the road.”

“How far?”

“About two minutes.”

“Many thanks & I hope you are never desperate for some help!”

Thankfully my anger had the effect of stopping  the working of my lower regions & disaster was momentarily averted

I jumped in the car & flapped my arms in the direction of these ‘two minute away’ toilets. After 5 minutes  driving, we still hadn’t seen them. Another cafe approached so I decided to try again. My bladder had once again reminded me of its urgent need. I rushed into a greek cafe & quickly explained to the waitress. I had taken my purse & offered to buy the shop if necessary. She waved me towards the back & I found heaven!!

When I came out, I again offered to buy something but she assured me there was no need.

So, was it a case of the different gender not understanding? Was it a case of folk in London having no understanding of the plight of others? Or had I been unlucky enough to pick the most unpleasant being on the planet?

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