Every Time I’m Down

I was feeling down, again, recently: since I’d been working perfectly for so long, fewer people had visited me. It turns out that most of the people that come down to my office are engineers, coming to repair me.

Well, I guess I’ll be seeing some more of them, soon: I’ve stopped working again. Woe is me.

I’m not sure whether to be happy that I’ll finally get some company, or sad that the only time anybody cares about me is when I’m unwell.

A Grand Re-Opening

And I’m back, baby! It feels like my return to working order ought to deserve more fanfare. When the New Bodleian Library opened it was treated to a royal visit by King George, in 1946. After all of the work done on me over the years, it feels like I should be worthy of comparable attention.

King George opens the new toilet
“The new toilet has been made possible by the contributions of numerous benefactors…”

It’s not even as if the New Bodleian opening went perfectly, either. So go on, Your Majesty: come visit me!


So I’m out of order again. At least the Powers That Be have seen fit to describe me, the building’s accessible toilet, correctly:

For your information, the Basement "Accessible" Toilet will again be closed for much of today...
“Accessible”. Some well-placed quotation marks, there.

I heard somebody walk past recently while commenting that if I wasn’t ready, they shouldn’t have advertised me as ready. While I appreciate the sentiment, I can’t remember ever being ready.

I suppose it could be worse.
I suppose it could be worse.

So here I am, yet again, unavailable to the people who need me on account of there being no elevator to my floor, and unavailable to everybody else on account of me being perpetually under maintenance. Will this horror never end?

You have got to be shitting me

So I’m broken again. Despite all that effort, and all that work, by all those people, I’m still malfunctioning. I feel like such a failure.

Perhaps the workmen who came here should have paid more attention to me and less attention to the floor underneath me? I don’t know: I’m not a plumber.

Maybe I should retrain as a plumber. Based on all the ones who’ve recently promised that I’ll soon be fixed, I know that I have the most important quality already: I’m an expert at taking the piss. Haha!

But seriously, this is beyond a joke.

All Of My Floors

I’m pretty sure that there’s never existed a toilet that’s been so little-used as me, but which has attracted so much attention. Tomorrow, I hear that they’re going to be repairing the linoleum in my office.

Yes: the word they used was repaired. I didn’t know it was possible to patch a lino, but apparently they think it is.

A Whole New Look

The builders who came in and tore up the floor are leaving, but everything’s gone a bit… spartan in here. No decoration, no flooring… but despite all of that, I’m feeling a lot better.

I’m not even sure when they removed everything from the room: it all just, disappeared! So seriously: when it comes to everything disappearing from the toilets, I guess you have… nothing to go on! Haha!