Academic Excesses

Gaaah! After a weekend of academic excesses of varying and startling kinds, we feel intellectually lubricated (to use an Intellectual-Friend-esque expression) enough to deal with this lavoir issue again. Faithful readers may remember our previous reportage on the curious contraption called a "lavoire", which we encountered in a museum. The problem was that, though we have proof of the existence of this object, we can find no information about the word "lavoir/lavoire" in this context; according to Wikipedia, a lavoire is a contraption for washing clothes in rural France. Thankfully, Intellectual Friend is always happy to engage in bloody etymological battles!

If you are sitting down and have a coffee at hand, it may be safe to read the following information from our favourite academic lunatic (be prepared for Middle English and Middle French references).

The lavoire: a hygiene-related mystery

HA. Frustratingly, the first answer to this conundrum would be that lavoire is NOT a French word and never was. That much is clear from its absence in both the Trésor de la Langue Française (http://atilf.atilf.fr/) and Godefroy's exhaustive and exhausting dictionary of Old and Middle French and dialects (http://micmap.org/dicfro/introduction/dictionnaire-godefroy). There was only lavoir. However, while lavoir came indeed to mean a place to go and wash clothes, the earlier meaning, still surviving but rare and archaic, was a vessel or basin for washing one's hands, often apparently a silver washbasin. None of the various spellings of this masculine word ends in -e. Cf. Godefroy, s.v. LAVEOR, http://micmap.org/dicfro/chercher/dictionnaire-godefroy/laveor [I give these French references only for their virtue of sounding academic and pedantically annoying; I wouldn't personally encourage anyone to try and actually read them. (Though one citation apparently refers to the washing of heathen sacrificial victims...)]

Why then distinguish between lavoir and lavoire in English? (or Swedish? or whatever -- anyway let's assume it's ultimately English's fault.) Well, maybe precisely to actually distinguish between the two meanings. But such a twattish answer sounds too easy. The OED pretends not to know either word, but here's what the Middle English Dictionary has to say (http://quod.lib.umich.edu/cgi/m/mec/med-idx?type=id&id=MED24894&egs=all&egdisplay=open):

lvur (n.) Also laver, lavre, lavoire, law(e)r, lawowre, (errors) laber, labour.

[OF lavëoir]

(a) A water pitcher, ewer; vessel for pouring; bowl; bacin and ~, basin and pitcher; (b) a washbasin; also, lavatory in a monastic cloister, trough for washing, sink; hanging (pendaunt) ~, hanging basin; harneis ~, sink for washing harness; also, baptismal font; ?holy water stoup; ~ stock, ?a pedestal or base for a laver; hind labour, water ~, q.v.; [some quots. in (b) are difficult to distinguish from (a) and may belong there]; (c) a medicinal wash, lotion which heals or cleanses; also fig.; (d) in surnames. 

Ha! so it could sometimes end in -e, and the form lavoire is attested. The MED entry proceeds with a lot of citations, but they don't help much in seeing what's special about the -e forms. In fact these seem to have been very rare; however they are quite interesting; one is from a homily and the other is quoted by G. Henslow in his 1899 edition of Medical Works of the Fourteenth Century:

He made forto full a gret fet full of watyr..and cast her þeryn..Then scho besoght God how þat fet most be her fonte, and þe watyr, þe lauere and waschyng of her synnys.

Take..hockys and sexfrage, and make a lauoyre, and do hit in a vessel þat he may sitte Inne a-non to þe breste or to þe gurdel, and baþe hym þer-Inne.

As a last desperate attempt get a glimpse of a lavoire, well there's an ancient French word lavatoire, confusingly a partial synonym of lavoir, and also confusingly not a feminine word despite -e suffix (the actual degree of correlation between gender and the -e ending in French is a question best never tackled). A lavatoire was a place for washing, or for washing oneself, or a lavoir, or a pool or a baptismal font. It could conceivably mean a lavatory in some of the latter word's earlier senses. The word lavatory, by the way, looks like coming from lavatoire, but it probably doesn't, coming instead from the Vulgar Latin etymon of the French word, making it, technically speaking, a bastard cognate! As to that vulgar filthy little etymon (which I will not utter here), it probably also underlies lavoir(e).

Argh. I now feel like I've provided a satisfactorily unsatisfying heap of self-content non-answers and shall make no further inquiry into that bloody matter!

Ha! We feel like we've got excellent value for all the alcohol we poured down Intellectual Friend's throat last Friday. Thank you, Intellectual Friend!

To further complicate the issue, however, we found that, in Swedish, a "lavoir tap" (lavoirkran) is what we would term an English-style tap, but which might, perhaps, be described as an old-fashioned French tap. The lavoir tap is, apparently, usually a NON-MIXER TAP. We didn't think this type of aberration existed outside of Britain, but apparently it does. We even found a blog by someone who deliberately, in cold blood, installed lavoir taps in their bathroom: http://www.karleriks.se/2011/11/1391/.

Lavoir tap, from this website

We note with relief that it is also possible to get lavoir taps in a mixer version.

Tap from this website

Tap from this website

 If you heard a loud melting noise there, it was the sound of our brain collapsing into a post-hangover meltdown state.

Related reading: 
Terminator Toilet 
Lavoire of Love

Like, Olympics, Innit

We don't know how long this Olympics lark is on for, but we thought we'd better get on the bandwagon before it is discovered that we have no idea what we're talking about.

German Friend has been doing some dirty work for us, using his considerable journalistic skills to hunt toilets.

German Friend says:

I have some Olympic loo impressions for you if they fit your bill.

Mystery door emanating atmospheric light leading to... the Oloomp? Golden glory? 

No, just to a weekly routine :/ There was a monthly one, too, but some loonatics got in the way and denied a good picture.

Pretty shabby temporary additional ones, these at Earls Court Exhibition Centre, West London - volleyball loos.

Enjoy!

We say: Beware of loonatics, German Friend!

Kronovall: More Castle Shenagigans

Not content with the grandeur and cultural richness of Christinehof Castle, we went ahead and made a visit to a place called Kronovall, near Tomelilla in southern Sweden, as well. (This place was recommended to us by a very dear friend.) Our main impression was of the pizza, which was AWESOME!

Classy before you even enter the toilets

Well, it is a wine castle!

Does one sigh with contentment? One does.

This soap actually smells like sandalwood and lavender.

Ha! An exemplary coat-hook!

Kronovall Castle, in all its glory

PIZZA! AND WINE! Two of our favourite things!

A whimsical giant wine bottle

We can't be bothered with points at the moment. To be honest, we suspect nobody cares, anyway. Just go and eat the pizza and enjoy the toilets.

Kronovalls Vinslott
273 95 Tomelilla
Tel: 0417-197 10
http://www.kronovall.se


Related Reading
So Much Fabulousness We Hardly Know Where to Begin
Christinehof: A Woman's Er, Bog Is Her, Er, Castle?
On Second Thoughts

Christinehof: A Woman's Er, Bog Is Her, Er, Castle?

Our cultural researches have been high-brow rather than low-brow recently. For instance, we visited Christinehof Castle, near Brösarp in Sweden, one sunny day. Christinehof was built by Countess Christina Piper (whose husband, Carl Piper, went to war with King Charles XII, who we mentioned in a bellicose previous update) in the 18th century. It's a beautiful little castle, with a splendid 19th-century earth closet preserved on the first floor. It was similar in design to Moule's earth closet, which attentive readers will remember from the archive, but a bit more elaborate and involving an exciting method  of tissue disposal. Unfortunately we weren't allowed to take photos in this part of the castle, called the Countess's Floor, so you'll have to take our word for it that it was a b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l earth closet!

The excellent Danish guide, Eva, took us around the lovely apartments and told us of the history of the castle and of the area, which is Swedish now but which was of course Danish until not really very long ago. The Countess obviously wasn't around for the invention of the earth closet (though we bet she would have approved), but she had some beautiful chamber pots.

The modern toilet for visitors, which one was allowed to both use and photograph, was lovely.

Clean, airy and disability-friendly: three of our favourite things!

Oh! so charming!

Check out the beautiful rose! You'll have to take our word for it that it smelled lovely.

If you get the urge to tend to your offspring, why, you may do so

Christinehof Castle. Wanna know why the colour of the wall's a bit uneven? Go visit and take the excellent tour!

We need to work on our points scale, as it simply won't do this one justice. Let's just say it gets a fat load of points.


Christinehofs Ekopark
273 57 Brösarp
Sweden
+46 417 263 70
http://www.christinehofsekopark.se

Related Reading:
Kronovall: More Castle Shenanigans
Historical Toilets, Baths and Kitchens - a Useful and Humbling Lesson

Blogging Something Rotten

A Christmas Mystery: The Mysterious Case of the Curse at Crapper Castle, or, Put a Lid on It, or, No Shit, Sherlock

Dirty Toilets and Dirtier Minds - A Nautical Theme

Intellectual Friend has, yet again, offered us a high-quality contribution. We frankly don't know what we would do without such a knowledgeable acquaintance - is there any topic this cerebral giant is not an expert on? Turns out naughty sailors' hygiene facilities are one of our expert's many favourite topics. (We've got more information on that lavoir as well, but frankly the depth of information left us exhausted and incapable of anything more strenuous than posting dirty pictures.)

Faced with such a staggering number of baffling photos, we at first meant to perform some kind of cull, in the interests of decency and intelligbility, but our mind was, frankly, boggled, and we were left incapacitated (spot a theme, anyone?). So here are all the pictures.

(Due to the peculiarities of Intellectual Friend's intellectual-but-not-very-practically-minded phone, or perhaps, dare we suggest, due to alcohol consumption, the photos are somewhat vertically challenged.)

Intellectual Friend says:

This is a place in Toruń, Poland, one risks ending up in when all pubs are packed with carousing Torunians on Christmas nights (yes, this is a stale, over 6 month old toilet report!). It's a spacious, fancy, locally renowned yet rather soulless, over-loud and wholly un-Christmassy bar. Despite a vaguely suggestive name - Lizard King - there are no dragons about; one surmises it's just some nerdy underground musical reference or whatever.

Nonetheless, it sports an armoured submarine bathroom, with bolts and portholes and metal and all! Which doesn't preclude the usual political and anatomical wall messages (here largely overlapping categories): one spots, for instance, the prominent word dupa ("arse") with its classic feminine ending in -a, or an address to Mr Tusk, the PM, metaphorically accused of being a highly disreputable woman via the equally feminine word kurwo whose ending -o indicates the vocative case.

However, for those less linguistically-minded, almost all the available walls also display eye-catching above-average toilet wall art. One would have liked to know what the ladies' bathroom had to offer in that respect, but due to the lack of female volunteer photographers in our party, one knows it not.

Lizard King

 ul. Kopernika 3 

87-100 Toruń

Poland

Many thanks for this informative contribution, Intellectual Friend. The toilets look clean, too, if not in a spiritual sense.

Related Reading
The Computer Says No, But Everyone Else Agrees on This Being an Excellent Toilet

INTERMISSION

Our intelligent readers are, we know, eager for more toilet-related news, being accustomed to regular doses of serious research as well as mere idle frivolities. You will have to restrain yourselves, however, as we are on a research trip, busily collating, erm, data. Should the withdrawal symptoms prove unbearable, do please have a look at our amusing labels, and read some of the riveting stuff in the archive. Alternatively, HTFU and stop whingeing.

Stalking, Part II

Luckily our generous relatives have two bathrooms, to allow us more scope for creepy stalking. Imagine a hunter, who's been idly taking potshots at tame, fluffy rabbits in an enclosed space, suddenly being let out on the savannah among the wild animals. That's how we felt. Scary stuff. Here are the results:

A scene of unbridled domesticity

We're all in favour of having two sinks. It significantly reduces the risks of hygiene-related conflicts; indeed, scientific studies show that adding an extra sink to your bathroom may reduce toothbrush-in-the-eye stabbing incidents by as much as thirty-four per cent

We're always in favour of bidets, as well. And black toilet seats.

Phwoarr, and comic books!

Gratuitous tap leching

Dornbracht taps are like the [insert favourite car brand] of plumbing!

Final verdict? Hurrah!

Related Reading
Stalking, Part I