It is some time since our toilet went south.
Not very south. But far enough away to have been isolated from all water supply, indeed, from the very wall against which it was accustomed to lean.
I well remember the conversation we had with the builders when they came to do the quote. “It’s a perfectly adequate white suite,” I said, referring to toilet and basin in a businesslike fashion. “Perhaps we could keep that, replace the shower and the floor tiles and make the whole thing good?”
And so, in moved the builders and out came the old suite. It was parked unceremoniously outside our patio windows, next to a wheelbarrow full of petunias. It forms the main view from our picture windows in our sitting room.
That was seven weeks ago.
A week ago, one of the workmen shook his head sadly at the now rather grubby suite sitting in our garden. I could get a new one at B&Q for £250, he told me. I sighed. You tell me this at the wrong end of the budget, I said, and went out and cleaned the dated porcelain until it shone.
The toilet was still sitting there when my five year old nephew, Big Al, arrived to spend the day.
He whirled into the house and ran around, inspecting new developments, before pottering out into the garden.A long, very noisy silence ensued. I knew there was a question coming. I waited.
“Auntie Kate?”
“Yes, Al?”
“Why is the toilet in the back garden?”
I sighed. My incisive nephew had gone straight to the crux of the matter, as usual. Why was the toilet still in the back garden? After seven weeks?
“The builders took it out to do some work, Al,” I explained. “When they’ve finished their work, they will put the toilet back again.”
Al wanted to investigate further. I scrambled out of my seat just in time to deter him from sampling the rainwater at the bottom of the pan, with its sundry leaves and berries and a small colony of moving things.
“Why can’t I touch the bottom of the toilet, Auntie Kate?”
“Why can’t you, Al?”
“Because it’s dirty.”
“That’s right.”
In companionable silence, we watched things doing wiggle-stroke at the bottom of the toilet.
Ar length, I stirred. “I tell you what, Al, you go and play with the Lego, and I’ll clean the toilet so it’s not dirty.”
And that is what we did. Thirty minutes later, behold; a pristine, steam-cleaned barren waste for all bacteria. Including the pan.
Al spent much time playing in the garden. There are many things to occupy a small boy out there; buckets, snails, sunflowers, large lewdly-shaped courgettes. All were grist to Al’s mill.
Today, Al and his family popped over once more. His eldest sister had made me a beautiful cake, and we all sat down and had cake and tea and nattered happily away for an hour or so. Al busied himself, as always, with two of his favourite preoccupations: Lego, and the garden.
It was when they were in the car, ready to go home, that Phil thought to look inside our estranged but highly beloved toilet.
And there, at the bottom of the pan, were toys. Many toys; Lego men, cars, a plane, some construction kit. All the things Al loved, in a place with which he was fascinated. As only a five year old boy can be.
Soon the toilet will be back with its soul mate, the plumbing, and busy at its day job once more.
But if porcelain could collect memories, it would treasure forever the time it was Al’s toybox.
Kate Shrewsday 
awwww, a room with a view and a garden with a loo
Domesticity at its most prosaic, Sidey.
hehe
It is not unusual to see toilets and other household appliances on the sidewalk in NYC, Kate, but that’s usually just a way station before a sanitation truck hauls them away to their likely destination: a landfill. Glad to know that your multipurpose “toylet” is just on a hiatus before returning to regularly scheduled obligations. Hopefully, Al will not be inclined to stuff it with Legos then.
Alas, he has always had a propensity to stick things down the toilet, Virginia. Strangely it was roasted peanuts which finally did for the works.
Hope the loo is soon returned to its proper place and – like lameadventures above – I hope Al realises that what is in order for lawn potties doesn’t hold for indoor ones 🙂
We all wait with bated breath to find out, Cindy. But we are forewarned and thus forearmed.
well, I am sure you are quite pleased Al only used it as a toy box, and not for its intended use!
That did cross all of our minds after the event, Tandy. I suppose we were lucky!
For a moment in his imagination it may have been a postbox 😉 We once had an old toilet in the garden – we used it as a plant box and it was quite the talking point. Lovely written post as always Kate – you do have a way with words.
Coming from a wonderful poet, those words are most appreciated, Gabrielle! I have seen planted toilets. There must be many uses to which one could turn all that porcelain!
My real surprise is that no one has used it. The difference between the UK and the US perhaps?
And trust me, don’t flush the LEGO. Unless you want to be paying for repair bills on the plumbing. Again.
Noted, Michael. Bills I can live without.
Wonderful post, Kate. Hope that your toylet is reinstated to the throne room in due course.
Thanks, Nancy. Gazing out at it in the garden as we speak.
Who says kids need fancy toys that light up and squawk? Give ’em a toilet and they’ll be thrilled!
Oh, the possibilities, Carrie 😀
i could wish you a windfall that would allow you to buy a brand new toilet for indoors… it’s good to see a child still inventing play
Ah, Ruth, every day I wis a windfall for something or other. Still, at the risk of sounding saccherine schmalzy, we’re happy. And that can be underrated.
Love Big Al stories.
😀 The boy is one long walking story. It just remains to be seen where he decides to take us next.
Excellent title. I suffer from the same budgetary deficiency leaving me at the mercy of cunning French artisans bent on revenge for Crecy. Naming a soup after a disaster is something we Brits have never thought of….Hastings Soup comes quickly to mind. Nevertheless, the Frenchie’s revenge on me was supplying me with an apricot bath. I only ever have white…all my life the bathroom has been the bright, white guiding light,,,,he told me that this was the nearest to white that he could find! As it was already plumbed in before he confronted me, I acquiesced knowing that rejection just meant money. It now appears that he only buys from one supplier who gives him points for exotic holidays when he makes purchases…..therefore, if he asks for a white bath and the man only has apricot, then apricot becomes the new white.
They have their victories, Roger 😀 And we walk away thinking to ourselves, hold on, why did I let that happen?
Rather than be awash with “other stuff,” I’m certain it was beaming after you got it gleaming, and after it was a much-loved receptacle for Big Al’s toys. Nicely done, Kate. 🙂
Thanks, Judy. Al has style.
The world truly is a better and wonderful place through the eyes of a child. Thanks for adding a glow to my day Kate …. and Al 🙂
Pleasure, Hope. You invariably add a glow to mine.
I’m thrilled to see that Al, although getting older, still maintains his wonderful sense of timing! He took full advantage of the pristine, cleaned piece of porcelain. I would wonder how many toys have been ceremoniously flushed on previous play dates with the toilet! Your new suite will be so nice, I’m sure. You’ve been very patient!
Big All can still command attention. Yea for Big Al – and a double yea for Auntie Kate, who cleaned the pan and the pot for such a Big Al adventure.
Hope all is back in place soon.
Well if he had to be dumping things in a toilet, at least it was not attached at the time. Perhaps he needs a treasure box with a lid of his own when he visits so he doesn’t get in a disastrous habit. 🙂 I hope your peerless and largely invisible workers return soon, full of zest for their pay.
Whyen you descend to toilet humour, you do it in style …