I’m told people are people the world around but my experiences so far are that showers are not all created equal. I’m not making a judgment on the entire country but I have experienced three showers in our college tour and I have yet to understand the logic behind their design.
Our first experience with the English shower was the romance of an old claw foot tub in a beautifully tiled bathroom. The classic old tub looked incredibly charming until I tried to get into it. The sides were waist high, with a widespread slope, requiring one to swing their leg wide and high to get to the remarkably small bottom inside, which had nothing that resembled a non-slick coating that I could find. The curtain was on a rickety pole, which could barely hold the weight of the nozzle. There was nothing for me to hold onto to aid in entry and exit.
After several botched attempts to enter the tub all of which landed me in unladylike positions, I called on my high school track and use a hurdle approach. I would simply kick my front leg high and out-stretched, and then leap forward over the edge; aiming my front leg towards the solid bottom and hope my trailing leg would clear the porcelain hurdle. If I stretched before going in I had a reasonable success rate, especially with a running start. However, an elegant exit onto a wet tile floor was never mastered. Instead I would leap out of the tub using my best Cirque du Soleil moves, crash through the door stumbling and tumbling, clutching my towel for dear life, always relieved to find the bed just feet away to cushion my inevitable fall. Needless to say, I was happy to move onto shower number two.
Wadham College’s shower was downright scary. This was a 2 ½ by 2 ½ foot glass enclosure, running floor to ceiling like a fish tank. Mike showered first and assured me the process was simple: step in, close the door, and turn the dial to the right.
He didn’t mention the water would shoot out at a speed that could take paint off of a car. I turned the water on and I was shot against the glass, arms and legs splayed out, while I was sandblasted clear of any soil, hair, and skin. To add to the risk, the glass room was watertight and didn’t drain well, reminiscent of Houdini’s Water Cell trick, in which he drowned. As the days passed, I began to wonder, which result of the shower jet would kill me first, drowning or flaying.
Moving onto our third abode was a relief to all around me, since I had given up showering for the last few days at Wadham College. Here, I was very surprised to find the elegant 18th century Keble College had showers reminiscent of woman’s prison, just like I remembered from the movies. Our incredibly small fully tiled-room, was perfectly designed for hosing off inmates, as it came equipped with a drain in the center of the floor, no windows, and no designated shower area. We had been told to expect English housing to be designed with efficiencies and this was a perfect example, since the showerhead was over the toilet. If you were so inclined, you could use both the shower and the toilet simultaneously. While I am generally a fan of multi-tasking, this is an area where I draw a line.
Tomorrow we move to another location and I’m interested to see what innovative design we will find when it comes to the shower. However, if it continues to degrade, I will have to take up the habit of baths.
The view from our room at Keble College
Not our bathroom door. Just one of many doors at Keble College
