On our second morning, I woke at seven o'clock and decided to have a bath before breakfast. No need to rush and there was a reliable hot water supply too.
Now I must confess that it had been almost sixteen years since I last had a bath. That was in the Hotel Cordon del Plata in Mendoza, Argentina in late October 2009. There, because of overbooking, I had been given the penthouse suite - the best room in the hotel.
It had a sunken jacuzzi bath and I decided to use it - even though by at that stage in my life I had been converted to showering long before. Vaguely, I can still recall lying in that bubbling bath Like Lord Muck - minus the cigar and the bottle of champagne. I clambered out before drying and dressing and heading out into the late spring night for food.
In Malton, I lay there luxuriating in the hot water. I used the products that were provided to cleanse the temple that is my body and the flowing locks that adorn my skull. A young sea otter bobbed in the water.
Then it was time to get up and out. But how? Shirley was in the lounge reading and knitting and I nearly yelled to her for assistance but after a couple of failed attempts, I girded my loins and with a huge amount of willpower managed to stand up without slipping and killing myself. I tell you, it was not easy.
Obviously, I later put in a serious complaint at the hotel reception. Why had no mechanical hoist been provided to lift old codgers like me out of that treacherous bath? Quite outrageous.
When I was a boy I frequently leapt out of baths like a coiled spring. We didn't even have a shower in my childhood home. Even in Mendoza - I have no recollection of finding it difficult to get out of that luxury bath. Sixteen years later, I wonder if I will ever have a bath again. After all, I could be stuck there forever.
from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/f4hudzm
