Wallowing in memories (Fibro Renovations)

Tonight I took my last bath in the big, green cast-iron tub that takes up half the Fibro bathroom. When we first looked at the house, it was enough to make me recoil. A scratched, mould-green bath in a tiny, windowless bathroom. All I could see was mildew and plantar warts.

A quick re-tiling job changed the wall colour from green (to match the bath?) to white and a coat of white paint freshened up all the corners. But still... A mould-green bath never seems clean. No matter how much you toil and scrub.

As the years passed, however, the bath has grown on me. Much like mould, come to think of it. Despite its scuffed surface, it is deep and comfortable. Even when the bath toys are dancing on my head, the rest of me is warm and comfortable. Bubbles look extra white against a green background. The roar of the extractor fan (which must be on at all times in a windowless bathroom) drowned out the sound of squabbling children. There were things to like.

But now it is going. Tomorrow the demolition begins and our bathroom will become a laundry as our laundry (practically the largest room in the house - and with a window all of its own) becomes the new bathroom. Exciting times.

I stepped out of the green tub tonight and, I confess, I did look back with a tinge of regret. Our new tub will not be quite so gargantuan in proportions.* Better for these Green Living times. But the green bath may have been better for just the ... living.

Have you ever had the pleasure of the delights of the 'colourful bathroom suite', circa 1950-1970? What are your memories?

[image: Flickr.com]

*In case you were wondering, we did look at re-enamelling our old bath with a slick white finish but the cost proved prohibitive. Sad but true.

The dirty secrets of my bathroom cabinets

With the bathroom and kitchen renovation fast approaching, it occurred to me today that I'm going to have to pull everything out of the cupboards. Everything. While this may not be as bad as it could be, simply because we've been in the Fibro less than three years, it is still not a happy-making thought.

When I consider what I actually use on a daily basis from my bathroom cabinets, I realise that it is a small and practical group of items. It all fits neatly into my toiletries bag when we go away. When I consider what is actually in my bathroom cabinets, I realise that I have a problem.

Admittedly, the problem is not as bad as it was during the years I worked on-staff at various magazines. Then the poor old cabinets buckled under the wealth of items collected during regular 'beauty chucks' - when the Beauty department cleared its filing cabinets for the onslaught of new products. For a woman who wears little make-up, I was stocked up enough for about 17 of me.

Half the problem in the cabinets today is the half-used stuff. Shampoo that I tried and didn't like. Moisturisers that didn't really do the job. A shelf's worth of de-frizzing, de-humidifying products  - and one random 'volumiser' (clearly it moved in by itself).

Why do I keep all this stuff? Because it feels wasteful to throw it out? Because it cost good money and deserves its space on the shelf? Because it's easier to shove it back in there than to decide what to do with it?

Well, the time has come. They're all going - lotion, potion and barrel brush. And such clutter will have no place in my sleek new bathroom. To ensure it, we will have no cabinet. If it doesn't fit in the toiletries bag, we can't have it. That's it. So simple. Why didn't I think of this before??

Can't imagine.

Are your bathroom cabinets, like mine, testament to every product purchase you've ever made? Or do you have a clean shelf policy?


[image: decal from tweetheartwallart/etsy]