This article was written for Annabel & Grace, which is now part of Rest Less.
The hubby and I bathe, but we stay in the bath for a matter of mere minutes. We usually leave the door open for impromptu chatting whenever the mood takes us. I chat, the hubby puts on his headphones.
Even if we shut the bathroom door, there still isn’t any need to switch on the fan to dehumidify the room.
On the other hand, this child of ours deems it imperative to release rainforest conditions in which to bathe. She enjoys long sessions of hazy condensation. She obviously yearns for the sound of cascading waterfalls to lull her into restful repose. The shower is her Niagara Falls.
Now this could be explained by the endless travelling she has done. Maybe the rainforest is where she is happiest?
Whatever the reason, the bathroom walls runneth with copious precipitation. Ephemeral streams might be more accurate. You are blinded by vapour clouds. The ceiling drips liquid onto one’s head. I might leave an umbrella in the corner.
The wooden floorboards, (that flatly stated were not suitable for ‘very wet conditions’) are splattered with intermittent puddles. The felt-bottomed shagreen wastepaper bin has a tide mark around it. It’s doing its bit to soak up excess floodwaters, incapable of moving to dry land.
My mummy’s black and white framed photo clings gamely to the wall, despite water flowing down either side of it. It’s the last picture standing, the others succumbed to becoming unstuck, crashing to the floor. She was a Highlander, not wet like the rest!
When one enters the temporary rainforest, you have to adjust by feeling around for your bearings as the atmosphere is pure white mist, reminiscent of a Turkish bath. Maybe the Middle child was Turkish in a past life?
One’s hair immediately frizzes in response to the humidity, rather like arriving in Sri Lanka.
I go into the bathroom patting the walls. I can calculate how long it has been since she left.
“Darling, did you get up at 6.30 this morning?” “Yeah, did I wake you?”
“Not at all – just that I can tell by the state of the walls’ dampness that it must have been about an hour ago.”
I’m like Tonto (the Lone Ranger’s sidekick), “Small female stood in waterfall for many moons then rested by ponds to dry skin, Kemo Sabe. Tonto follow damp prints. She made camp on dry land where buffalo roam.”
It takes about an hour for the monsoon conditions to pass by, the vertical torrential streams have meanwhile accumulated into small lakes into which you can dip your toes.
Maybe we could keep fish in here …… Koi or not to Koi? That’s the slippery question.