Oh my goodness, I have just had some deeply disturbing news! My good friend Mrs D, in whose villa we are staying in Cyprus, has sent me a highly informative document with all the relevant info we will need for our stay - from taxi firms, supermarkets and tourist locations to telephone numbers, doctors surgeries and, of course, of vital importance - the location of the iron. It is an extremely thorough document and obviously designed for a complete thicko such as my good self who hasn't the vaguest idea about what she should be doing. In fact I'm still wondering what size of suitcase to buy for myself... and we leave in a week's time. Oh dear!
Anyway, I was taking all of this in my stride until I read the following...
"Next to the toilets there are bins. It is not recommended that you flush the toilet paper down the toilet, this is common in Cyprus so please use the bins provided. There are several large bins at the start of the estate for all to use and they are usually emptied twice weekly. There are more bin liners of many sizes in the cupboard under the sink."
Ohhhhh my God! What am I to do? Has Mrs D forgotten that I have 3 sons who could compete with Zeus for the title of Toilet King?! And as for the good Mr T......Heaven help me! I shall be emptying the bins daily, perhaps hourly and forced to wear the nose peg, gas mask and decontamination suit that I normally save for emergency loose bowel situations.
Ohh woe, woe is me!
I sincerely hope these bins have been constructed on a par with a nuclear reactor otherwise there maybe a sudden population decline in Cyprus during our stay.
Right, I know it's late at night but I gotta go... I just need to checkout the cost of bulk ordering fragrant nappy sacks online. Hmm. Maybe I can just get them shipped straight to Cyprus?
Gez, a woman's work is never done.......