Do it yourself

My husband has recently returned home from sea with a ‘flea in his ear’, and is intent on renovating the bathroom. They don’t have much to talk about out there, obviously, so the ‘mine’s bigger than yours’ state of mind often covers a lot  more than the latest car, motorbike, boat or caravan.

I’m not complaining. I’m a little tired of doing battle with the shower curtain as it wraps it’s cold flaps around my warm body on cold Winter mornings, and is the harbourer of all sorts of vermin in the hotter months. I could tell you about the time a very large and hairy arachnid plopped out of the folds and scuttled up my naked leg, but I won’t. You get the picture. And it’s not pretty.

I’m concerned about my husband’s state of mind however, and the bank balance, as the brochures mount up and he starts talking about spa baths with all the fittings, and fancy accessories that I have never heard of before. I didn’t know that there was so much to it, or so much interest, in the higher end of the bathroom renovation.

I have accompanied my husband to the various showrooms, and marvelled at the size of the spas and number of jet outlets that go with them. Of course, he wants maximum jets and maximum power, with LED control panel, neck massagers and independent heated water accessories. I would be happy to be able to just stretch out and relax. There are some places that I don’t want a therapeutic jet massage.

I’m in charge of the colour scheme. Just as long as it meets with his approval and is the correct size, weight and depth –  I can have anything I want. I thought that a sandstone look on the floor with a marble effect up the walls would be nice. I’ve seen it before in showrooms and it looks straight forward, and I don’t have to be too creative – just match the colours, right? Wrong – I’m a rabbit caught in the light reflected off the  sheer array and variety, not to mention size, weight and depth – of my tile quarry.

I’m starting to panic now. I haven’t been able to make a decision yet and my husband’s do-it-yourself clock is ticking. So I’m off again today, for the fifth and final time, to make my selection and hope that it meets with approval. I was going to take my father for backup, until my mother reminded me of the time when he decorated the bar with blue tiling and a funny orange fur for the trims. We all liked it at the time, but the excess of the seventies is definitely not transferable to the new millennium of bathroom de haute qualite.

I can’t wait until the captain decides to renovate his kitchen.

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