The weather of late had brought the majority of us a glimmer of sun, to some of us hope, and that all too familiar feeling of feebly attempting to start afresh. What it indisputably has given us, however, is all the more reason to bathe. Whether you're sitting in your own filth on the train, you're weary from traipsing the humid streets of the city, or the aircon's broken in your car and you've resorted to leaning your head out of the window to catch a breeze, there's never been a better time to take a bath.
Usually, the introvert success one feels, upon the correct positioning of oneself at an exclusive part of a train platform, so that, having seen the carriages rush passed, your train comes to rest at such a point that the doors are allied with you, is one of human's many minute pleasures in life.
However, come summertime, obtaining residence at one of these 'exclusive' spots is no longer revered as a triumphant endeavour. Conversely, one is faced with the festering odour of thousands of commuters who have had ‘a terrible day' and 'just want to get home already.' It is therefore essentially essential that the essence of sensing the appropriate time to soak in the effervescent waters of a hot bath is not lost at this time of the year. Makes sense. As was written in ancient scripture (which I feel just means 'old book I can't find or read') "save the platform dwellers, if not yourself." Anyway enough of the weather lets move on to my task in hand.
Preparing for ‘The Test’
My first bath has been installed and we have begun the pre-testing stage. In brief, this will consist of a period of several hours in which I spend time knelt at the bath's side, aligning myself with its ceramic soul and the stillness of the stainless steel. The bath and I are soon to become one. Depending on the thread count of my trousers, my knees are prone to light bruising. In such unappetising situations, I place a folded towel beneath me. This has been deployed with varying success.
Once this time has elapsed (usually the point at which another member of my family threatens to burn the bathroom door down - "you've been in there for six hours, surely you need to eat!"), I go for a 3.5 mile walk in a south easterly direction catching the evening breeze where possible. This serves as a way of reconnecting with nature and produces the presence of mind required for 'The Test'. On my way home I fill my thoughts with bathing. Walking next to streams and gazing reflectively in to puddles helps.
The Three Stages of Testing a Bath (when It’s Scorching Outside)
One must ensure they are familiar with the distinction between the 'social bath' and the 'professional bath'. In my capacity as BEO, I cannot simply bathe in the way I would on any other occasion, for this would be a disservice to the kind, honest, bathing public. I will therefore conduct the test in three stages.
First I will lie in the bath, still, unmoved, embracing all it has to offer. In the second, I will do the same, but add water. Finally, I will invent a variety of scenarios that will test the endurance and flexibility of the bath (important in its everyday use).
To take an example, Graham (pictured below) has been caught in an altercation with a baby goose who accidently bashed in to his beak. As a new swimmer, the goose doesn't want to lose his no claims bonus and therefore wants to compensate for Graham's suffering in cash, rather than through their respective insurance. Of course, in the tub, cash will get wet and is a sour prospect for Graham to deal with. In the chaos, Graham has lost his flock. Does the bath allow him a variety of options in which he could find them? Will the bath protect him from the elements? How does the shape of the bath facilitate his mother's audible signalling?
I will report on the ways in which the bath compliments and follows the contours of the human body, the extent to which it retains heat and I'll finally produce a detailed assessment of the genre of person that would enjoy such a bath.
I look forward to letting you all know about the first instalment.
Your Resident Bather,