I was sitting in the one of the toilet stalls in the basement of the British Library today and there were some strange noises coming from the cubicle next to me.
Not the kind of noises youÂ’d expect. It was neither pooing or sexual in nature.
It seemed to involve the screwing up of lots of toilet paper and then the flush was pulled, but the mystery inhabitant of the stall did not leave. There were simply more unidentifiable sounds, followed by more flushing and more not leaving.
I wonder if this was anything to do with the message I found on the toilet paper a couple of weeks ago. Perhaps the man doing the writing was in fact sending the missives to some kind of mutant or sewage worker dwelling in the sewers beneath.
I used to believe that there was a monster that lived in the toilet and that the flush was its roar as it came to get you and so I had to get out of the lavatory the minute I had pulled the handle or I would be carried away to its uriny lair. I was 28 years old when I held these beliefs, not as you might have imagined four or five. I was suffering from a quite serious psychological disorder, so I hope you didnÂ’t find my revelation amusing.
Maybe the toilet paper note-writing British Library IT man is attempting to communicate with this monster, or send him offerings to try and assuage his anger. LetÂ’s face it with the usual offerings the monster gets, itÂ’s not surprising heÂ’s so angry. Perhaps the IT man the looks into the bowl and in a similar manner to the way that my gran used to read tea leaves, he reads the response to his message from the patterns left on the porcelain (and floor).
We may be getting closer to one of the worldÂ’s great mysteries, but although I tried to wait in my stall until the man beside me had left (so I could maybe catch a glimpse of him washing his hands), he seemed content to stay where he was and rustle and then flush.
Then I got spooked and decided to leave. I wasnÂ’t sure I wanted to see him after all.
