Last night, on the drive from work over to my mum's house for tea, I started to feel the pressure of my supermarket ban in a whole new way. And actually, I'm surprised it's taken this long for me to find myself caught short.
Ladies and gents, I'm a member of the small bladder club, and as such I can't tackle a long journey, long film, long meeting, or in fact anything long without needing a comfort break. Colleagues mock me at work as I excuse myself from conferences to nip to the loo and friends laugh as I plot road trips according to the number of service stations along the way.
As a rider, I've perfected the art of squatting behind a bush while hanging onto the reins of my horse. And if I'm out at an event or gig you can be sure I'm keeping one eye on the length of the toilet queue.
Supermarkets are so very often the saviours of the small bladdered. As cash-strapped local councils close public conveniences, they are often the only place you can be sure to find a relatively clean (and free) loo.
When I was a roving reporter in Edinburgh, supermarket loos were a godsend because some days I'd be out of the office for hours on end doing interviews and covering courts. I pretty much had a mental map of every supermarket bog in East Lothian and Fife.
Nowadays my job in Derby is mainly office-based, but as it can take me over an hour in traffic to get to and from work, loo stops are still an issue. I used to nip to one of the three huge Tescos I pass on my daily commute to go to the toilet (and usually end up coming out with £10-worth of shopping too) but now I use a bone fide service station just off the A38 at Alfreton.
However, the route from work to my mum's house in the Peak District is longer and more rural. My saving grace used to be the Sainsburys at Matlock, but of course now that's forbidden. The rules clearly state I must not set foot in any supermarket.
Last night I made the additional schoolboy error of having a cup of tea in the office before leaving work. So by the time I'd got 20 minutes up the road I was beginning to sweat.
As I neared Matlock my conscience waged an inner war with my bladder. Gripping the steering wheel and gritting my teeth I continued on past Sainsburys without stopping and headed through Darley Dale.
As the pressure rose, so did the dial on my speedometer. By the time I'd got onto the road through Chatsworth I was driving with wreckless disregard for the safety of the sheep.
And my god the cattle grids were excruciating.
As I finally pulled into my mum's driveway I was positively bursting. Luckily I have my own key so I didn't have to wait for her to answer the door. I let myself in and went belting off upstairs to the loo, bellowing a greeting in her direction as I ran.
Luckily the bladder issue is hereditary (thanks mum) so she knew exactly what I was doing.
So this has got me pondering... do I need a toilet clause? I can set foot inside a supermarket if I'm about to wet my pants?
Or must I simple take my chances and run the risk of getting arrested for offences against public decency if it all goes wrong?
Thoughts anyone?
You could look at it this way - by nipping in to use their loos you aren't putting money in their coffers & supporting them are you?. You are just taking from them in the cause of nature - so I think it would be acceptable to have a toilet clause for those emergencies. I totally understand where you are coming from LOL!
ReplyDeleteYou make a good point. Before the ban they'd make money out of my loo stops because I invariably got distracted in the store and bought something, but now I can just use the facilities and then make a run for it!
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