• Home
• About Us
• Subscribe
• Newsletter
• Advertise
• Contact

Toilet trauma

Fear not, I did not go to jail but, sadly, nor did I collect £200. In fact, that is probably the tidy sum spent during the course of our 11-hour Monopoly board challenge (which included a £60 bottle of bubbly in the champagne bar at St Pancras and £15 cocktails in The Strand). But good fun was had by all – as indeed it was at IPA and Sial in Paris.

I’ve just returned from visiting both shows and was amazed by both their sheer size and the volume of visitors. Recession… what recession?! Will tell you more in the next issue of the mag.

But I also feel compelled to share an embarrassing moment (and I’m not talking about our sales manager Gina trying desperately not to gag as she did her best to eke a particularly reluctant garlic-sodden snail out of its shell) with all you avid Food & Drink Tech blog-followers.

Oh no, the moment I would like to share with you occurred at the end of Saturday evening – when we were in need of a comfort break before heading back to our hotel. Having found what I believed to be the ladies’ toilet deep in the bowels of the restaurant, I pushed open the door to be greeted with a smell I can only compare to that of your average gents’ loo (not that I make a habit of frequenting them, you understand, particularly as, thanks to my other job as a mum of two young boys, I know just how pongy they can be. The toilets, that is, not my sons.)

Anyway, I digress. So, having breathed in the less than fragrant air, I then caught a glimpse of a man washing his hands in the sink. Mortified, I shuffled backwards out of the toilet, and again studied the picture on the door. It was definitely a female image. Mightily relieved, I bellowed to Gina: “It’s okay. We’re all right – it’s HIM who’s in the wrong toilet!” At which point the colour drained from Gina’s face as HE turned round, and flounced out – boobs bouncing as ‘he’ went.
“It was a woman,” hissed Gina.
“But she had a butch face,” I reasoned somewhat pathetically, as we headed back up the stairs and made straight for the exit.
Oh, the shame.
 



Back to Blog

Login

Email: Password:

SUBSCRIBE

• Terms
• Privacy
• Accessibility
• Site Map
• ©Bell Publishing 2010. All Rights Reserved