WARNING - do not read this blog if you are of a sensitive nature
One of the more surreal experiences of the London Marathon weekend was the female urinal. Not being a festival-goer, I have managed to avoid this, but faced with a fast-moving urinal queue versus a stationary one for the proper WCs, I decided to give it a go.
Now I’ve wee’d outdoors in many situations – on windswept moors, behind straggly bushes, or in thick woodland. All involved squatting, and the vast majority ended up with me weeing into my shoe. So at least one part of the urinal experience was familiar – but not the squatting one.
On entering the (very poorly) screened area, I picked up what can only be described as a cardboard shoe, with an opening in the toe. The form seemed to be that one hoicks down the nether garments, clasps the she-wee to one’s front-bottom, and lets go with the toe pointing in the general direction of the urinal. Brilliant – and quick.
The really surreal bit, though, comes with the arrangement of the urinals. They are in long double-rows, facing each other over a barrier approximately rib height. This means you are looking directly into the eyes of the person opposite – and over her shoulder you can see the rear views of the next set of women. This row of bare bums, most of them quivering with fits of the giggles, was enough to take my mind right off the coming ordeal.
For comedy value, I can heartily recommend it.
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