Some people get into the choosing of tap fittings. I am not a person who gets into the choosing of tap fittings. After a day looking at tap fittings, I don’t so much feel like I’m choosing tap fittings as the tap fittings are choosing me.
It is imperative I do this quickly. A short sharp tap choice. Bang. Belgravia Lever Traditional. Or possibly Ultra Chrome Beaumont. Or Ultra Chrome Luxury Beaumont for only £10 more. Damn it!
One thing I do know. I’m not having anything with ‘Quest’ in the title. I don’t want a tap that thinks it’s on a Quest. That’s allowing a tap way too much self-importance. Nor do I want a ‘waterfall’ bath or sink fitting. Or a ‘zest’ shower. It’s too tiresome. I want water to come at me in a bog standard way.
The bog had better be standard too. I don’t want any funny business.
The last time I went to Japan, I had to avoid the jet wash and dry. Morally speaking, there is no excuse for it. Damn the impudence of a loo that thinks it can take such liberties. Yes, loos and showers are tricky. They’ve got ahead of themselves. Too clever for their own good.
Last time I went to the Plumb Center with Tony the plumber, I ended up with a £650 fixed rainfall shower that was meant to have a detachable head — to wash the dog off, for example. But it turned out to have a hose that you had to pull in and out of a chrome ring. It made a sickening whirring sound and was apt to fly about like a demented snake. It did my head in and meant I could very rarely face washing the dog off.
Why are these appliances not designed so we can do with them what we want to do? When I asked Tony why the detachable shower wouldn’t detach, he shook his head and said: ‘It doesn’t want to detach, my dear.’