– by Barry Mathias –
Life from a Gulf Islands persepective.
One of the greatest of the many interesting phenomena on the Islands has been the unbridled development of the modern washroom. No longer called “the little boys room,” “the privy” or “the WC” in hushed embarrassed whispers, the modern washroom encloses all manner of possible forms of ablutions and necessary fixtures, including … yes, you can now say it: the toilet. It has become a status symbol, and the temple of the discerning and the ultra clean.
In the early days of Island habitation, a wash involved hands, soap and cold water in a bucket, and usually only before a meal. More detailed washing was often confined to the horse trough in the summer and in winter was a complicated and protracted process involving small metal tubs, kettles of hot water and a complete lack of privacy. The practice of summer swims for hygienic purposes was confined to local lakes, often brackish, where the brave and the well-endowed coped with the problems of being unable to buy swimsuits on the Islands.
There was always the ocean to dunk in; at least, that was the occasional boast. But it was, and is, an element so cold, even in summer, that only those with ample covering, those who have consumed enough alcohol, or those who have heroic aspirations could last more than a bare moment. Which presumably gave rise to Polar Bear (bare?) Swims.
It was a time of the outside “biffy,” always located as far away from the house as possible during hot and aromatic summers, and whose protracted distance was much lamented, in unseasonably bad language, during snowy winter visits. These were tough people who always found a good use for political pamphlets with which they disagreed.
Then, there was a period when flush “loos,” that fitted into spaces the size of broom cupboards, were attached to the outside of houses. These were never spoken about until winter froze their pipes, resulting in long, metaphoric conversations with plumbers involving terms like: “the ‘thingy’ has frozen” … “the outside ‘what’s-it’ won’t work,” or best of all: “can you unfreeze my ‘you know’?”
Finally, modernity reached the Islands when city folk insisted on houses with all-embracing washrooms. To begin with, there were cavernous tubs, so deep you needed life-saving belts at strategic points along the wall. They had huge dragon-like feet and taps resembling fire hoses, and those brave enough to climb into them frequently had to be rescued by earnest firemen, who later provided raucous entertainment at the local pubs. Eventually, they became popular in farmers’ fields, for the use of cows and horses, or as an alternative to dumped cars.
Today, the Islands can boast washrooms that are the epitome of modern civilized development, yet with regard to their use of marble and size, resemble closely the Roman baths of 2,000 years ago. There are cavernous walk-in showers, sunken tubs, hip baths, foot baths and wet bars. No longer the need for chains or handles – there are now automatic flush “loos,” that cause extreme consternation for the uninitiated. Somewhere, amid the piped music, the television, the cell phone and the computer you might find the soap!
