No square to spare.

In our house, everyone has assigned jobs, created to make my life easier. One of the most important jobs is that of the Toilet Paper Monitor.

Jack is the TPM, a task he takes very seriously. Each morning he does toilet inspections and fills up toilet paper supplies so no one ever gets stuck sitting on the throne, hollering…

“Can someone bring me some toilet papeeerrrrrrrr.”

But sometimes he slacks off a bit, and when I am caught out and have to holler, I always think of this situation I found myself in.

Many moons ago, I was living and working in London. I had finished work for the day and got to Waterloo Station when I became very aware that something I ate for lunch was not happy and was travelling south with alarming speed.

Back in the day, and they may still have them, there were these cubicle-like toilets that you had to insert a pound before you were granted access to the plumbing facilities. I did the dance of the dreaded dodgy guts, all the time fishing around my bag for a pound coin. I found one, inserted it into the slot and ran for my life.

Oh sweet, sweet relief.

And then….. I noticed a problem.

There was not a toilet paper monitor to be seen, because I had not invented them yet. Just an empty toilet paper dispenser. And absolutely nothing else.

A long time passed, perhaps days. I was a resourceful lady, but I was beginning to think I may just die in that toilet in Waterloo Station. Then something snapped.

I could no longer be the victim in this situation, waiting around for someone to save me.

A few minutes later, I slipped out of that cubicle and made my way towards my platform, all the while hoping no one would notice I was wearing just one sock.

The End