All the showers I’ve seen in American films and TV
programmes have an unmovable rose attached to an unmovable copper pipe
sticking out of the wall at a height of about 7 feet. The whole thing is fixed,
so taking a shower is little different than standing out in the rain. At least,
that’s how it seems. So my question is: how do they rinse the underneath bits
(short of doing a handstand which seems rather less than feasible)?
Over here in the UK – and I assume this is true of Europe
generally – we mostly have electric shower units which comprise three
components: a sealed plastic box containing a heating element which is wired
into the electrical circuit and plumbed into the mains water supply, a flexible
hose which carries the water out of the box, and a hand unit complete with
shower rose screwed into the other end of the flexible hose. And here’s the
clever bit: The hand unit sits in an open bracket fixed to a vertical rail,
which means you can easily adjust the height and, most importantly, remove it
and direct it willy-nilly (if you’ll excuse the expression) at any part of your
body, including the underneath bits.
So this raises a serious question. Are the underparts of American
citizens less clean than those of we more sophisticated Europeans? That’s
gross. And is this yet another reason why I should never contemplate going to America, or at
least ensure that I steer well clear of Americans if I do? Or am I missing
something?
No offence meant. And this post is only being made in an
attempt to convince the readership of nine hardy souls that I’m not as
depressed as I think I am.
2 comments:
Although I won't get into the mechanics of it, rest assured that the rinsing does get done.
Many American showers do have detachable shower heads, but these cost more and rental apartments won't have them. But you're right that we don't have the weird shower box or the switch that requires you to turn on the hot water.
It's a good thing that all UK shower heads are detachable, since in my apartment in Edinburgh I needed it to fill the tank of the toilet, which on its own filled at about a quarter of a cup every hour. And I still have a mental map in my head of every toilet in Oxford and which ones were actually usable (about one half). I will probably retain that MOTM (Mental Oxford Toilet Map) until I die.
Thank you for avoiding the mechanics. I delayed that post for a day because I genuinely feared somebody might not. The older I get, the more I think of bodies as evolution's greatest failure.
And I'm surprised you didn't counter my position by noting the downside of electric showers - the fact that the temperature of the water is controlled by the flow rate instead of a thermostat, which means that you get a good gushing in the summer when the incoming water is mild, but something more akin to a dribble in the winter when it's close to freezing. At least, that's how the cheap ones I've always had work. Maybe the rich folks get thermostats for a more equanimous bathing experience. Isn't it always the way?
Have you thought of publishing the MOTM to help with tuition fees? (I've got Moaning Myrtle stuck in my head now.)
Post a Comment