... a bathtub!

            Knock and the door shall open – seek and you shall find.  Ask through a blog and it will be given you.  I cannot believe it, by little blog was read by so many people and all sorts of creative ideas came spurting forth.

            However, like all good competitions, (not that this was an official competition), I have narrowed down the entries (very difficult I must say) and we have a winner!

            Thank you to my friend Lynnie in Bucks for this bathtub!  Right up my alley and perfectly within my budget.  Thanks to a precision pair of scale Vernier Calipers (in inches) I was able to ascertain that the bathtub was indeed the perfect size and most importantly: DEPTH!

            That's when the penny dropped.  I couldn’t have that bathtub. No how.  No way.  It was in therapy …

            Thoughtful as I am, I quickly changed my sights and I do have my eye on this one – I think I’ll put in an offer tomorrow after I find those scale Vernier Calipers … now where did I put them?

All I want is ...

The problem begins with the fact that I have English genes, albeit bastardized genes these days, but at their root they're English, so I like to soak.  In a deep hot bath, that is.

The bastardized part comes from living my life in Uruguay and the US, where showers are king.  I like having showers, don’t get me wrong.  Showers in the morning, showers at noon, or before supper after a hard day’s work – yes, those showers are great.  But after supper?  No.  Now way.  Showers don’t cut it.

After supper it’s lights-out-candles-on and time for slipping into a piping hot pool of peace.  Alone.  Winding down to steam off the day’s layers of whatever.  Peace, perfect peace.

So, since we’re fixing up the little house we've just bought, I’ve been commissioned to find a tub for myself.  Simple. Home D should do the trick.  Ya think?

NOT HAPPENING!

They have ankle warmers, kiddies’ paddle baths and their deepest “soaker” wouldn't even reach my bum.  OK, OK, I know I have a very large bum these days, I’m conscious of the problem there, but it wouldn’t cover your bum either!  Unless you were under ten.

So it’s off to the dreaded Lowes (or Low S as Carlos calls it).  Unhelpful as always, they direct me to a large counter where a 3-foot-long horizontal-pole-bound collection of wretched catalogues awaits me.   But after a while I find what I’m looking for!  Hooray!  Claw foot, 60 inches by 30 inches by (bliss) 22 inches depth.  I’m so thrilled I even forget my Low S grudge. 

Grinning from ear to ear I approach the salesman again, who’s still (s)talking to the saleswoman about their weekends.  I have to wait until they reach a point where I can politely interrupt. 

“The price is in the back of the catalogue,” he points to the place I’ve just come from.  They resume their conversation and I’m banished to the Low S library again.

Who cares?  I can do it without them; I enjoy self-checkout lines and self-serve gas pumps.  I get to the page and suddenly every ounce of Low S hatred returns.  It costs almost as much as my car! 

Stubborn though, I plow through three more tomes.  It’s impossible; they’re all just as useless as the Home D tubs.  Every page I flip tells a similar story and I get more and more frustrated.  Can’t one of them help me?

I turn to look at them, sniggering and chatting together, no, they're too busy, so I stalk off towards the exit.  Yeah I have a big bum, yeah I came in dressed in my shorts and flip flops, but I came in on a mission.  I came to spend money.  Obviously I wasn't the type of customer who'd be in a position to spend that kind of money (oh Richard Gere where are you?)  and they sussed me out.  They were right.

So I’m hunting online now.  Carlos is hunting online as well.  In fact, because he gets up earlier than I do, he’s probably hunted more that I have.  But there isn’t a single soaker, in my price range, to be found.  

Maybe I’ll get a kiddies’ blow up pool and put that in the bathroom instead.  I’ve been known to do silly things like that.

Goat on float

Goat on float

A boat!

A boat!

That day

On the Moat

From

His window

Boy spied

A little red boat

The boat

Was afloat

On the Moat

Near O’Groat

And a man

Came out

And got into

That boat.

Then a

Second man

Dressed in

A float,

Walked out

And came

Down the

Path to that boat.

The man

With a float

Had a cake

And a goat.

A goat with

A bell and

They got into

The boat

“Wait!”

Mouthed the man

As he raised

A hand.

Out! Out

Boy ran

To listen

To their plan.

“Wait,” said

The man

“Have you brought

My float?

Have you brought

My float

Which I left

In my tote?”

“I forgot!”

Said the man

And he slapped

His head.

“Hang onto

My goat

I’ll go back for

Your float”

The man

With a float

Got off the boat

As his friend

Held the collar

Round

The throat

Of the goat.

Soon the man

With the float

Came back

To the boat

He came out

To the boat

With a note

And a tote

“Not the tote”

Said the friend

Still holding

The goat

“Just the float

That’s inside

That silly

Blue tote”

“That’s the thing”

Said the man,

The man

In the float,

“That’s why

I came back

With this note

From your

Tote.”

“A note

From my tote?”

He said holding

The goat.

“Yes one

I’d earlier

Pulled from the mouth

Of my goat”

“And what says

The note

That you found

By my tote?

What says

That note

Almost eaten

By your goat?”

“Dear Joe,”

Says the note,

Read the friend

In the float

“Dear Joe,”

Says Peyote

Your old friend

In Remote.

“I’m borrowing

Your float

From your tote

At Remote,

Your float

With the sleeves

That looks

Like a coat.

It’s cold

Here tonight

In Remote,”

He wrote,

“I was cold

So I took

Your float

From the tote.”

“Well, well,”

Muttered Joe,

“Well, well,

What to do?

Seems I’m

Stuck now

With note

And no float

For my boat."

"What now?”

Said the friend

To the friend,

“What to do?

Now I’m here

On my boat

And it’s there

In Remote?”

He let go

Of the goat

And groaned

As he wrote

With a finger

In the air

MY FLOAT’S

IN REMOTE!!!

“We can’t

Go for a ride

Not even

A float”

And as he spoke

The goat

Jumped right off

The boat!

“Oh no!”

Yelled the friend

In the float

“I can’t swim!

My goat!

It can’t swim!

It will sink

In the Moat!”

“Help! Help!”

Yelled the men

As they looked

For the goat.

“Help! Help!”

They called out

Not seeing

The goat.

Boy ran

For his float

Then ran out

Like a shot

And hurled

The

Donut float

Attached to a rope.

He knew

By rote

How to save

In the Moat

So he called

To the goat

“Hey, Billy!

Grab that float!”

In a mountain

Of foam

Billy Goat

The water broke

Reached the float

Which

Was tied a

Rope.

“Pull! Pull!”

Cried the men

From the

Bow of the boat

“Save the goat!

Save the goat!

Someone help!

We can't swim!”

“Good boy

Billy Goat!”

Boy called as

Goat’s teeth

Sank deep

As it grabbed

One side of

The float.

“That’s it

Billy Goat!

Bite tight

Don’t let go!”

“Pull! Pull!”

Cried the men

Getting off

Their red boat.

“Swim! Swim!”

Boy yelled

As the goat fought

The Moat.

“I’m pulling!”

Boy yelled to

The men

From the boat.

But the goat

Was big

And the boy

Was small

And the men,

Who were foolish,

Feared crossing

The Moat.

Downriver was

A bridge, our

Folklore told,

‘Neath which lived

Dote troll

Who ate things

From

The Moat

Dote spied them

And caught them,

His dinner

To make;

From the bridge

Or the water,

His prey he

Would take!

The men

Were afraid,

So they called

And they yelled.

But boy’s hands

Slipped and bled

On the rope

To the goat.

One last tug

Might have had him,

But on handovers

Slipped!

So the current took

The goat

On the donut

Float.

“Oh no!”

Cried the men

As they watched

Boy fall.

“Oh no!”

Boy yelled as he

Tumbled off

The wall.

With a splash

Boy was in

Right after

The goat.

Then the current

Sucked him down,

To’ard the

Bridge of

Dote.

The bell

Of the goat

Did clang as

He fought

And the float

Kept him up

As he howled

From his throat.

“To the bridge!”

Boy called,

Now desperate for

Some help,

As he swam for

The goat

And his life

To’ard the float.

“The cake! 

The cake!

Take the cake

To the troll!”

He spluttered

As he swam

Best he could

In the Moat.

The troll popped out

As the bell

He heard,

Stamped his feet

Rubbed his hoofs

And with

A grin

He did gloat.

Boy swam,

Boy fought

Till he reached

The rope.

Then the goat

With a shriek

Bit onto

Boy’s coat.

But the Moat

Pulled the boy

And the goat

Way on down,

As the men

Now emboldened

Carried cake

To the troll.

Old Dote

Got his net

And yelled

“By Bloat!

What a meal

I shall have,

From above

And below!”

That’s when Joe

From the boat,

The one in the float,

With the cake

Reached the

Bridge and

Yelled out

To the troll:

“Hey troll!

Lookie here

Come ‘n see

What we’ve got!”

And together stormed

The bridge

Just as Dote

Cast his net.

Boy screamed,

Men stomped

And the goat

On the float

Bleated loud

As the troll

Confused

Did emote:

“Get the goat

On the float?

Or the boy in

The coat?

Or the cake?

Or those

Dummies

On my bridge?”

If you

Were a troll,

By the name

Of Dote,

Would you eat

For dinner:

Boy, float,

Cake,

Or goat?

Folklore

Does say,

(Tho' not confirmed,

No way!)

That the troll

Called his

Friends and

The lot

They ate.