The first house we stayed in on holidays was a nice place.
It was a wee bungalow not too far from the pub, which was grand. One of the first things that impressed me was that it had an inside toilet, which is a nice spot of luxury for a holiday.
That night, I was poking around the main bedroom and looked into what I thought was the wardrobe, but fuck me – another bathroom. What the fuck was that for? The next day, I nosed around the far end of the bungalow. There was a room with a washing machine, a tumble dryer and the central heating thingy, which I didn’t trust. What did I find next to that room? Yet another fucking bathroom!
At the end of the week, we had to move out. Herself had insisted on lighting a fire in the main sitting room as neither of us trusted the central heating thingy. Unfortunately the sitting room didn’t have a fireplace, so we made a bit of a mess, and got thrown out.
We had a problem then, as we had nowhere to stay.
This Interweb thingy never ceases to amaze me. I went onto it to see if I could find somewhere else to stay and got chatting to Mick, who comments here occasionally. Mick played a blinder. He lives in the area, and he pulled out all the stops, even going so far as to place an emergency appeal on Facebook. I met up with him for a pint or ten, and he gave me a list of houses that not only were available, but that didn’t mind dogs. I was gobsmacked.
We chose one and moved in. It was a fucking palace. I have stayed in smaller, less comfortable hotels.
The house was huge.
Just to be on the safe side, I checked to see if there was a fireplace in the sitting room, and found that there were three sitting rooms, all with fireplaces and fucking huge plasma televisions.
Strangely enough, for such an enormous house, there was no bathroom. There was a toilet downstairs all right, but no bathroom. I then poked around upstairs, and found five bedrooms, and each one had its own bathroom. This was getting ridiculous. Some were ordinary bathrooms and some were shower rooms. The biggest bedroom had a place that was just plain crazy though. It was bigger than our living room at home and had two hand basins, a toilet, a shower and a fucking huge bath on a plinth with nozzle things in it that squirt water at your various private parts which is quite kinky.
One little feature I thought was very nice was in the downstairs toilet. There was a special, built in drinking bowl for Sandy. It was also quite handy for washing my hands.
I thought that was a very nice touch.
The people of West Cork must be a very dirty shower of bastards. Why else would they need so many bathrooms?
I must see about getting one of those baths with the nozzles though.
Sharon and myself could have great fun in that.