Today I discovered that I’m not the most-useless disabled toilet in the world! I’d always worried that I was, because I’m really hard to get to – especially if you’re in a wheelchair. But at least I’m not this lavatory:
How did I not know before now that this was a thing?
Show some love for a toilet today! And if you’re anywhere near me, come on down to my lonely little basement and say hi! I love you all!
According to this email I am back, at work following my recent illness.
I still feel, pretty ropey though. And I’m not sure why, I’m using punctuation in the way I am.
Perhaps it’s something, in the water.
I was feeling down, again, recently: since I’d been working perfectly for so long, fewer people had visited me. It turns out that most of the people that come down to my office are engineers, coming to repair me.
Well, I guess I’ll be seeing some more of them, soon: I’ve stopped working again. Woe is me.
I’m not sure whether to be happy that I’ll finally get some company, or sad that the only time anybody cares about me is when I’m unwell.
And I’m back, baby! It feels like my return to working order ought to deserve more fanfare. When the New Bodleian Library opened it was treated to a royal visit by King George, in 1946. After all of the work done on me over the years, it feels like I should be worthy of comparable attention.
It’s not even as if the New Bodleian opening went perfectly, either. So go on, Your Majesty: come visit me!
So I’m out of order again. At least the Powers That Be have seen fit to describe me, the building’s accessible toilet, correctly:
I heard somebody walk past recently while commenting that if I wasn’t ready, they shouldn’t have advertised me as ready. While I appreciate the sentiment, I can’t remember ever being ready.
So here I am, yet again, unavailable to the people who need me on account of there being no elevator to my floor, and unavailable to everybody else on account of me being perpetually under maintenance. Will this horror never end?
So I’m broken again. Despite all that effort, and all that work, by all those people, I’m still malfunctioning. I feel like such a failure.
Perhaps the workmen who came here should have paid more attention to me and less attention to the floor underneath me? I don’t know: I’m not a plumber.
Maybe I should retrain as a plumber. Based on all the ones who’ve recently promised that I’ll soon be fixed, I know that I have the most important quality already: I’m an expert at taking the piss. Haha!
But seriously, this is beyond a joke.
I’m pretty sure that there’s never existed a toilet that’s been so little-used as me, but which has attracted so much attention. Tomorrow, I hear that they’re going to be repairing the linoleum in my office.
Yes: the word they used was repaired. I didn’t know it was possible to patch a lino, but apparently they think it is.
The builders who came in and tore up the floor are leaving, but everything’s gone a bit… spartan in here. No decoration, no flooring… but despite all of that, I’m feeling a lot better.
I’m not even sure when they removed everything from the room: it all just, disappeared! So seriously: when it comes to everything disappearing from the toilets, I guess you have… nothing to go on! Haha!