29 July 2012
I did say a while ago that I would tell you all about my time in Iceland. Well, I also said that when I reach 100 in the ranks I would start a new series. I could kill two birds with one stone an make my new series about my Icelandic adventures. But rather than be cold and just give you everything that happened, I might do it in little episodes (ignoring chronology completely!) What follows is just such an episode.
For those of you who haven't been to Iceland, there is something you need to understand about their swimming pool changing rooms. (I will say at this point that swimming is a very important part of Icelandic life. Where possible, they swim every day. This is quite likely a factor to why they have the second longest lifespans in the world, after the Japanese, who also have a culture of daily swimming.)
Back to the point, Iceland does not use chlorine. At all. Meaning that you have to make sure you're thoroughly clean before you go in. So, you need to strip everything off. Everything. Also, they don't have cubicles, so you have to do it in front of everyone else. Now, for the natives this is the norm. They see nothing wrong in leaving it flapping around! But when you have ten or so British kids huddling into corners to change, it all looks a bit silly.
So, some of us, rather than look awkward trying to slip boxers off and trunks on, while holding a towel to hide it all at the same time (and believe me, that is an art) decided to cower in the toilet (which, thank god, had a lockable door.) I even tried to be cunning once and flushed to make it look like I'd not been so cowardly.
I have a friend called Duncan who also decided upon this cunning tactic. Or at least I thought he did. He flushed. Twice. Terrible decision. No way of covering up that fact. Very embarrassing for all involved. :/
The Saga Of Changing Rooms And Double-Flushes • Opuss № I