“It’s weird. It’s warm and feels like someone’s just got off it.”
As ever, Mrs P has hit it on the head. Well, the backside actually.
It’s the lavvy, loo, bog, khazi, whatever. It’s the toilet seat in our Tokyo hotel room. Not only does it have an entire bathroom attached to it, it’s pleasantly heated as well.
They’re clever these Japanese chaps. Not only do they make good cars, cameras and TVs, this is clearly the pinnacle of lavatorial technology – probably the biggest breakthrough since Mr Crapper invented a way to flush those nasty, odiferous jobbies away more than a century ago.
If you’ve not encountered one before, the idea is to settle and perform whatever function you choose, calmed and cosseted by the delight of a warm botty – now made especially enjoyable in an otherwise near-Arctic air conditioned hotel room. I’ve been in hotels where the lavvy seat was so cold that my skin has stuck to it on contact.
Don’t clean up manually, yet.
Look down and to your right and press the green shower button. In seconds, a warm jet of water squirts onto that little puckered spot from whence everything has just flowed. Wriggle a little to ensure that there are no Klingons – oh for fuck’s sake, how did you think they got their name? – and switch off.
Wipe with KP* as usual, except this time, you’re just drying.
For the lady, I imagine it all works in much the same fashion, with the additional benefit of an extra button for washing their other naughty bit. Us blokes can shake or wipe it on the curtains, but for the ladies, a gentle warm post micturation (or other activity) spray must be very nice.
So one up for the Japanese. I’d quite like one at home – except when it comes to maintenance – I’m occupying an idle moment with the terrors of a badly adjusted jet, a thermostat set too high, or worse, an improperly insulated electrical connection…
* kak papier – it’s a Burger family thing apparently.