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.

Write an essay detailing what you did in the holidays

When our children were small, Other Half used to comment that ours was probably the only home were Mum was crying because the kids were going back to school the next day and the kids were excited. Leaving that conundrum aside, many children will be facing the above written question in the next few days, maybe in a foreign language, in an attempt to ease them and their teachers back into school routine.

However, holidays are important. Time to spend with families and other friends to those of term time, different places to see - maybe only a bus ride away but still away from the norm. Different things to do - or maybe the same old things but in a different place. Jam sandwiches as a child but made by my maternal Grandmother tasted so different!

Most of the school holidays this year Other Half and I spent in our little tin hut, on a cliff in the West Country with family and friends. We camp out very often with the same 'crowd', some of whom we may only meet up with once a year. Grandchildren came and stayed, played and left again. Some asked for different things and played different games. We tried to show them things and were taught things by them and our friends. Friends came and went, some did not make it this year whilst others arrived joyfully after a gap of a couple of years. We all returned home dirtier, older and maybe a bit wiser.

I learnt that jumping on bouncy castles creates a very strange feeling in one's tum.
I saw that some children cannot bear even to drop a ball in a competitive game whilst others loved just to join with others in the fun. [This attitude seems to continue in adult children. Especially little boys of about 35 or so]
I found it possible to ignore politics when the strain became too much and a cream tea was on offer, but not the threat of another war in the Middle East.
I watched Mums smooth over many a dispute between toddlers to teenagers. As with the awareness of war, Mums can never relax their vigilance. However - waiting awhile until the dust settles often means that quarrels are forgotten and the game continues in another way.
I realised that however happy one is, the death of a dearly beloved uncle, however elderly and expected, can still break one's heart and necessitate time alone to think about him and give thanks for his life.
I enjoyed the quiet times chatting with old friends just as much as the rowdy times being ever so silly and laughing a lot. The company is the main thing in both instances.
I noticed how different we all are. Children and adults, brothers and sisters, parents and childrens - we all have differents likes and dislikes and with fixed views even at two or three years old. Trying to change another's views is so often unnessary - there is usually the space to accomodate all - or that bane of children and parents: 'Share'!
I understood that there can be as much joy in small things that don't cost much as in huge presents. Watching the face of one of my grandson's on a trip to a [free] museum as he became interested in an artefact was a treasure that could not be bought!

Maybe some of our politicians and leaders should watch children at play and learn a few things from them. It can't be worse than the way the politicos are acting now, surely?

Just a few random thoughts, and I am still sad when the [grand] children go back to school.


Photo courtesy: http://www.oldclassiccar.co.uk/forum/phpbb/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?p=9907&sid=8db1042267ce03e2494f9406df37d1d1