Flushed with success
I go to the loo.

Obviously this is not an uncommon occurrence (if it was, I'd have issues with colostomy bags – which I don't), and therefore would not normally be worthy of blogging. (I also try not to disturb my readers through stories of my biological functions, as a general rule).

Whilst temping a few years ago, it occurred to me that going to the loo at my employers expense was a cunning plan, and my body has now broadly conditioned itself to summon me to the throne between the hours of 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. weekdays.

Having done my business (and earned about £1.50 in the process) I flush the loo.

Only the bowl doesn't clear.

Instead it fills with water.

I stay calm. I avail myself of the cunningly positioned brush and make a few passing swipes into the bowl, hoping that the blockage will somehow clear. Fragments of paper float up.

I flush again.

Unfortunately, this only succeeds in raising the water level.

Now I start to panic.

What can I do?

Risk another go with the brush and flush, hoping that I'll now clear the problem and the water will drain away, rather than overflowing on to the toilet floor? Leave it, return to my desk, and make sure I'm out the door before the poor cleaner has to deal with it? Confess to my colleagues that I have blocked the loo?

None of the options is particularly tempting. I stand, in contemplation, weighing up their various merits as the small scraps of paper tantalisingly float on the surface, taunting me.

As I consider opting for the cowards choice and leaving it for the cleaner something miraculous happens.

The blockage clears of it's own accord and the water level drops down to a safe height. (Well either that, or small mer-people clear the blockage with pickaxes and shovels.)

Disaster is averted.
- posted by Paul @ 4:08 pm