E May 12th 2002

I discovered the bath today. I'd always been a shower man, quick ,
refreshing economical. But it was Sunday morning, I was in the middle
of a good book, so I chose the bath. Ran the water, hot, added some
radox, and dunked myself like an oversized pink digestive biscuit in a
mug of Typhoo's best.

I tried to sit back and relax, but found myself checking my watch on
the washbasin every few minutes. It just didn't feel right, sitting
there. I felt lazy and self indulgent, and couldn't understand why: it
was Sunday, no appointments, no people to see, no jobs that couldn't
wait. I felt like I should be moving on, and eventually realised that I
was suffereing from"shower syndrome".

You see, a shower is part of a connected sequence of events. You take
one before or after another linked activity, like going to work, or
playing sport. Even the water is sequential, gushing in from the shower
head, cleansing, and flowing out through the drain. It never happens in
isolation. But a bath, that's isolation. It's an event on it's own, for
it's own sake, to be enjoyed and savoured. The water is still,
enclosing and enclosed. If you dip your head below the surface, you're
in another world.

Tomorrow will be another shower day. I'll take it between waking and
working, automatically. But I've discovered the bath now, and next
Sunday I'll close the bathroom door and run the water. Hot.