Yesterday I attempted to install a new loo seat. The old one had actually started to crumble and the lid kept coming off its hook.
So there I was on bended knee with my head underneath the cistern, trying to work out how on earth I was going to undo a rusty screw that seemed to have welded itself to the base. It wasn't pleasant, I can tell you, and not helped by the fact I was sweltering in our seemingly never-ending British heat.
But I was determined to figure it out. With the help of a YouTube video, a pair of pliers and much foot stamping, the screw came out at last.
That wasn't the end of it, though. The new loo seat boasted it fitted all domestic loos, although it seemed a mystery how it was going to fit mine. At one point, I wondered whether having no loo seat at all might be an option. After all, we have another loo in the house.
And then I remembered what it was like to be glutened.
As all coeliacs know (at least, the ones who don't have silent symptoms), being glutened requires having soundproof walls, a very high pain threshold and, most importantly, your own bathroom, away from the needs of others. It's not good enough to have one that's being shared by the family or flatmates, especially if there's someone who likes long bubble baths (shudders).
So I was forced to continue, despite the need for a third hand and the ability to hold five things in place whilst tightening a nut. Most of the time my brain suffered the brunt of it, particularly when the loo seat snapped together and shut my head in the middle.
But as you can see, no long-term damage was done. I managed to get up this morning and type. As for the loo seat, I reckon it's pretty solid. Let's just hope that everything going into is, as well, if you catch my coeliac drift.
(And if you're going 'ewww', just remember my warning at the beginning of this article.)
That's the loo seat, by the way, looking as stunning as a seat possibly can, especially after its installation ordeal.