“The red grape”
Men’s, B+ grade
Appearance: After fumbling round the wood panels for for the secret door opening, like a tipsy Harry Potter in an enchanted library, and quickly having to work out whether I was a “Juan” or a “Juanita”, I was in. It was like being inside a red grape.
Smell: Not a hint of wees or poos and just a delicate waft of sangria.
Paper: Kimberly-Clark’s individual piece-by-piece dispensing game was strong.
Flush: It was one of those enthusiastic ones where the water comes right up to the brim and you think you’re going to be washed away by a diluted-excrement wave. But at the last second, the toilet gives you the old “psych!” and it retreats. You bloody trickster!
Washing: When I get my own house, I’m installing a “Duravit” sink. The single lever which determined water flow and temperature was how I imagine the silkiest power steering on some sort of luxury vehicle. It was a dream. For that moment I was god of water, I was flipping Poseidon!
Best: The sink was alright, I guess.
Worst: The mad toilet anxiety from not knowing where the wall ends and the stall door begins.