A loo, a loo.
My kingdom for a loo...
 There
are those who might say that Soraya Porter has a fixation with PCs - no, not personal
computers, but public conveniences - but for those of us who suffer terribly
from pre-competition nerves, they are an essential part of any competition. If you spend a
large amount of your time occupied in visiting these ‘conveniences’, it is possible to become
quite an expert in all aspects of the ‘lavvy
Any seasoned competitor soon develops a
ritual pattern for visitation.
 Visit
upon arrival
This is essential preparation for future more hasty visits. Here you can stroll at your
leisure before walking your courses; taking time to spy out where your rings are. At this time
of the day there is unlikely to be queue, toilet rolls are plentiful, little paper towels are
in neat receptacles for easy dispensing, soap is pristine, floors are clean, bins are empty,
every door has a working catch and there is the delicate astringent aroma of cheap air
fresheners sufficient to remove any nasal hair from your snout.
Pre
first run dash
This occurs after you’ve walked the course more times than you can list on one hand. You’ve
watched other people walk the course. You’ve listened to other people’s conversations as you’ve
marched round en masse. You’ve clandestinely listened into several Senior handlers
conversations about the course. You’ve changed your mind many times, and wondered ‘why
on earth’ you thought you
could do an Open class anyway. So as you stand there dithering, your bladder decides to muscle
in on the act and, glimpsing at your watch, you decide you’ve just got time to nip to the loo.
Big mistake! Now
there is a queue. In fact it’s not a queue, but a practice for the town’s biggest Conga line.
It’s not even a solely human queue – there are dogs there too! Why? Isn’t the exercise area big
enough?
|
Aside: I forgot to mention earlier that we are, in
fact, talking solely about ladies PCs. I have little experience of Gents. However, one
thing I do know about Gents loos is that there is rarely, if ever, a queue for the men’s
loos. |
 So
you stand in line, wondering if you can get round twenty obstacles without losing control of
your bladder, whilst shouting frantically at a fast receding hound. Wondering if you should
brazen it out and walk into the Gents, wondering...
Finally, you’re
there. Into the cubicle you dash, sighing in relief you then discover there is no loo paper.
You call in a strangled voice for someone to strangled voice for someone to lob you some
toilet tissue.
This has one of two
results. Either you suddenly feel like you’re sitting on a loo (with your trackie bottoms round
your ankles) in the middle of a ticker tape parade as loo paper rains down on you from all
directions. Or ( and this is more common) you sit there in splendid isolation feeling like
you’re the only person in the world as you’re met with a deafening embarrassed silence. After
all who else wants to admit that they’ve used the loo with no paper or, worst of all, that
they’ve just used the last piece?
Having managed to
carry out your ablutions in time to still run your first event, you are now vowing to last out
the rest of the competition without going to the loo. You start to limit your liquid intake,
despite it being a boiling hot day. This doesn’t last though. Eventually, you have to drink
something, because even the much-slurped water for the dogs provided at all the Trade Stands is
starting to look enticing.
Mini handlers complaint
I include all those spectators who watch the popular crowd pleaser, the Eukanuba
Mini Circular Knockout. Hands up all those out there who thought this was purely an event of
speed and accuracy for dog and handler? Wrong! This is the product of some evil genius to test
the bladder control of all attending – competitors, spectators, ring party and judges. It’s
fast and furious; competitors are told not to leave the vicinity until the class has finished –
if you miss your turn you’re out. No second chance here. It consists of several high-speed
rounds and ring parties are under pressure to process competitors ASAP. Events normally take
place on a boiling hot day with the sun beating down, and everyone knocking back the clear
stuff. I’ve witnessed it several times – what happens when a competitor of several rounds is
eliminated? What happens when the class finishes? Everyone dashes to the loo! Evil, I tell
you...
 Scene
of devastation
So it's coming to the end of the show, and you decide to make just one more visit to the
facilities before the long journey home. You may well have avoided any queue but, when you
enter the building - permanent or temporary - a scene of devastation meets your eyes. Obviously
the local outing of ‘Slobs Are Us’ has snuck in while no one was looking.
Paper towels are
stuck to every conceivable surface, and none are in their receptacle. At least one door is
hanging from its hinges and it’s not the same one as the one missing its lock. All toilet rolls
are missing from every cubicle, but some thoughtful soul has provided some from their own
stash. Sadly half of this has succumbed to the same ailment as the paper towels, and are stuck
to floors and other inappropriate surfaces for the general dismay and confusion of would be
users.
The soap has become
a master of disguise, and those few examples left have either transmogrified into bad jelly
like props left over from an old Doctor Who episode, or, more scarily, decided to grow a winter
coat for the more inclement weather ahead, and are now adorned with a variety of hair and grot
of all colours and types. Anyone moving too swiftly is likely to be bitten and in need of
urgent Rabies jabs.
 HazChem
We’ve talked in general terms about PC usage, but I have not warned you about the more specific
hazards of the loo. Users beware – a loo for the general usage of the public can be a very
dangerous thing. Some of these hazards are peculiar to all PCs, but some are most definitely
only encountered at Agility Shows. PCs are
not
for the faint hearted.
First up is a
common one – the cracked loo seat. This comes in two forms.
-
The first is
straight forward. You lower yourself to the seat and a swift, painful nip is administered to
one or both buttocks depending on the location of the crack.
-
The second form
is much nastier – you place yourself upon the seat and unbeknown to you the crack opens on an
unsuspecting posterior. You only know about it when you lift yourself from said seat with the
loo seat attached to your derrière, inflicting extreme pain. Only by sitting down again can
you remove the offending article.
 For
the strong willed this is the answer, but sadly, all too often, the pain is such that you pull
away, inflicting a bad bruise at best and, at worst, ripping the seat from the loo which
remains firmly attached to your behind. Not only are you in pain, but also you’re officially a
loo seat ripping vandal!
HazDog
Next comes one of the agility hazards – dog’s heads! Uh? I hear you say? Well,
picture the scene. It’s your first visit of the day. You’re sitting there contemplating your
next run, when suddenly you see a movement out of the corner of your eye. Swiftly you look down
at the floor where the gap between cubicle wall and floor resides. There it is again – you see
hair – tawny, tousled. Is someone trying to get in? Is it a small child? As you gaze in horror
all becomes clear and you go back to your contemplation – A long pointy nose followed by two
brown eyes appear in the gap. A dog,
of course,
should have guessed. Perfectly natural for someone to take a dog to the loo after all,
isn’t it?
 I
have noticed this does seem to be a habit of elderly ladies with small dogs. Is this the
agility equivalent of Alzheimer’s? You have been warned.
Moving on to
fixtures and fittings; be sure to check you locks AND MAKE SURE YOU OPERATE THEM CORRECTLY.
This is particularly important when making use of the less popular form of PCs - the
Portaloo. Remember this door is the
only thing between you and the wide, wide world. Humiliation is sure to follow if you do not
employ a locks services.
I speak from very
personal experience. Sitting with you undies around your ankles, elevated for all to see, is
not how I wanted to view the complete stranger who suddenly pulled open my Portaloo door at All
About Dogs. Not only did it scar both of us for life, but I bumped into him everywhere I went
at the show for the rest of that day.
Lastly, a word to
the wise. If you are at a show, try and use the facilities nearest to Jill’s tent. As a
seasoned campaigner she has a plentiful supply of toilet tissue and, providing you know the
secret password, she may be able to supply you with a black-market roll to smuggle into your
cubicle. What’s the secret password? You’ll have to speak to Jill...
Reprinted from the
Suffolk Five Rivers DTC Newsletter
 About
the author...
Soraya
Porter trains 2-3 times a week
at three clubs - 5 Rivers, West Suffolk and Deben and
teachs regularly at two of the clubs. Last year, with the help of the ever supportive Ernie,
she managed to survive and pass the Agility Club Approved Instructors Course, which was a real
highpoint of my year
From
Paula Triggs, a victim...
Soraya forgot to mention the so called 'friend' who likes to give the portaloo you are sitting
in a quick shake, which makes it seem like an earthquake to the poor beggar inside! Just beware
if Colin Whitear is lurking nearby!
(26/02/04)
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