Confusion within seat heat

Have you ever visited the lavatory, opted to sit down and discovered that the seat is very warm? This obviously implies that some other man, or woman, but for the sake of this blog, I have to imagine that it’s man, has very recently been sitting there. Of course! This has happened to everyone. How does it make you feel? It makes me feel a little bit quirky. I don’t like it. Why would anyone want to feel the warmth of another mans behind, especially in the circumstance of him saying goodbye to his lunch.

I apologise if this blog, so far, isn’t particularly pleasant, but I do promise, with the deepest of warmth (warmth from the heart, not from, well, you know where), that there’s a happier, more tasteful ending.

Today, I experienced a new kind of toilet seat warmth. It was hot. If I had taken the seat outside, it would’ve steamed like a coal train whistling through the British countryside. I was at my private class’s house; just before the class started I took a trip to the toilet and sat down. The shock, to the intensity of the seat warmth, was significant. My face would’ve resembled shock, confusion, curiosity and disbelief, all in a split second. I felt my eyes penetrating the limitations of their sockets. I couldn’t quite work out what the hell had happened. Why on earth is this toilet seat so god darn hot? With a flash of wonder I then remembered that their toilet had an electronic self cleaning device, I then realised that it must be heated for the winter months. I carried on with my duties.

I had been thinking about writing a blog today, but I was stuck for ideas. I had resigned to the fact that I’d have to wait another day. It’s funny that simply going to the bathroom to pee, or whatever you may be doing in there, can inspire you to write a blog. Maybe I should have just kept all this to myself.

The image at the top of this blog, is a flashback to my blog about Korean taxis. I forgot to mention, I think, that getting a taxi between the hours of 11:30pm and 3:00am is very difficult, and on some occasions, impossible. It isn’t because there aren’t any, it isn’t because there are too many people getting taxis, it’s because the taxi will not take you unless you’re going on a healthy, money spinning distance. One night, I was so fed up with rejection after rejection that I lunged into the depths of my pocket, took out my camera and took a picture of the number plate and then asked my Korean friend to threaten the driver with the image, saying we would report him to his boss, or whoever we could. It’s an illegal offence to deny anyone a journey in a taxi. He replied with a shake of the head and a mumble. We walked onto the next taxi. So if you find yourself in Seoul, do not take this taxi, he doesn’t deserve your cash.