The Devil You Know - Toilets of Tasmania, Part I

The good people at Qantas probably meant well. (Hashtag: Famous Last Words.) Nonetheless, our sojourn in Adelaide Airport, though lengthy, was entirely unintended. Still, it yielded this gem of a sign.

Our Australian epistolary bog blog tour started in Sydney and went, via what might be Australia's best toilet, to Queensland. Leaving the mainland, we then entered the brisk and breezy embrace of Tasmania. Should you ever be fortunate enough to visit Hobart, be advised that the Sandy Bay area of the city boasts a pleasant yacht club, where one may indulge in a fun pub quiz (be further advised that Australian Friend is a ferocious pub quiz opponent) and also use these perfectly adequate toilets.

Should your mettle be sturdy and your spirit adventurous, and should you venture along the Derwent river outside the city limits, past the suburb of Claremont and all the way to Austins Ferry, you might spot this clean public toilet in Roseneath Park. The actual facilities are not perhaps sophisticated, veering more towards the functional or even rudimentary, but you will be pleased to know that the soap smells of roses.

Heading back towards the city with your now-fragrant hands, you might - why the hell not? - stop at the Mona art gallery and experience the rather insistent smell of the artificial digestive systems which are helpfully hung on hooks, for your perusal.

The gallery toilets would have been truly excellent, had they not been unisex. Remember, nobody - but nobody - wants to queue next to awkwardly smiling bearded hipsters. Sorry Mona, but your good soap, coat-hooks, and plentiful spare bog rolls are nullified by the bearded hipsters - even if they're metaphorical.

Going further afield, for instance as far as Richmond - home of Australia's oldest bridge (built by convicts (who else?) in 1823) - one may, should one so wish, enter the charmingly named Pooseum. We heartily recommend a chat with the friendly and knowledgeable Austrian proprietor.

In other news, if you weren't already terrified to the point of insanity by air dryers, here you go. You're welcome.

Jonny is naturally, though far from us geographically, with us in spirit.

Festive Video: Elvis Presley, (You're the) Devil in Disguise

Related Reading 

Read more about the horrors of awkwardly smiling bearded hipsters here and also here (bonus pretend Latin quote if you click on the link, and only a mild overdose of agonised hand-wringing).

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