A Tale of a Tub [ or in this case a shower]

Elizannie and Other Half love camping, albeit  in slightly luxurious form [note slightly]  in a very small caravan. Sans lavatory and hot water but off the ground and including a foam mattress. And of course including lights that work even without electric input for reading purposes.

This week has seen us staying on a really de luxe camp site that boasted not only an electrical hook up but also a toilet block with showers and somewhere to wash dirty dishes. No need to crack out the paper cups and plates unless one is very lazy [yes you guessed it..] And the internet signal was really good too! So really not away from civilisation but plenty of opportunity for people watching as this was a really big camp-site. Close to a major tourist city too so all sorts of campers from many different campers provided plenty of scope for the 'where's that number plate from?' game.

So first morning trip to the showers was looking good as another really hot day was dawning and off I trotted complete with clothes, towel and shower gel all at the first attempt. Well done me! All downhill from there.

Beautifully clean showers. Undressed and straight into shower. Pressed the button, nothing. Peep head outside, no-one else in block other than in shower cubicles so catch up towel and venture out to see if there is something else needs pushing, pulling or depressing. Forget there was a step up into shower so fall down and out, luckily retain balance but towel slips, luckily again no-one in sight still. Call out in slightly wobbly voice to the occupied showers asking how to make showers 'go'. Reply is just to push the button but number one shower [mine] is not working..... Scramble in the buff into next shower.

Happily this one does work. Just drying myself when a little voice is heard calling in broker English 'please, how do these showers work?' Feeling smug now call out to explain about shower number one not working! Still not dressed when I hear another, deeper voice shouting 'male attendant on cleaning duties'. Decide to be a good citizen and poke my head out to report number one shower not working. At this point I should emphasise that I shower without glasses and hearing aids. Thus it was an easy mistake to think from the rear that the large lady walking past was a man. Feel obliged to stay in shower cubicle for a bit longer.

Eventually return to the little caravan clean and refreshed for a welcome cuppa to reflect on the morning's adventures. And to think about the original A Tale of A Tub, that wonderful first work and satire on religion by Jonathan Swift. Funny how even when I am camping I cannot completely leave behind English Lit, Politics and Religion isn't it?! 

Although to be honest a tub is a far better symbol for pulpit than a shower cubicle, there are similarities. There was the sharing of information and helping each others ; someone saved from a fall; differences between one and other [ethnicity, gender, ability] disappearing; and the unity of purpose - all needed cleansing although not in a spiritual sense perhaps! And underneath the towels with their fancy slogans and designs, all of us basically the same. As we all left the building we probably didn't think of each other again, rather like so many who leave their places of worship on their Holy Day and don't think again about their promises until the next day of worship. 

Oh dear - all this from a simple visit to the shower block on a camping trip but a microcosm of life, after all.