Onward, Kristianstad's Older Citizenry

 We have partied, recently, using various different methods. For instance, we have partied a) like it's 1937, b) like everything is terrible but at least there's beer and country music, and also c) like the end of the world is nigh and all of the champagne needs to be consumed at once, without delay. This wild mix of qualitative and quantitative methods has left everyone feeling somewhat disorientated, but thankfully Jonny has been sending us toilet photos throughout, and we shall no doubt get through even this unsettling period.

Aforementioned reliable toilet correspondent wrote to us saying, in his characteristic terse manner:

Posh hotel.

This hotel is so posh it employs people to roll up little towels, for your convenience. And there's a fainting chair, in the gents'!

Check out the posh toiletries, and the marble, and the mixer tap. Is this an illustration of the top level of the Maslow hierarchy?

Well, the poets tell how Pancho fell. Lefty's living in a cheap hotel. Jonny, on the other hand, is living it large! Woof!

Terse, rugged, and staying in posh hotels. Is Jonny the Hemingway of toilet selfies?

Remember when we went to Kristianstad and ended up explaining fermented herring to a steel slide player from North Carolina? For reasons that seemed logical at the time, we went back to this provincial town for another cultural experience, and got the opportunity to review the bogs of no fewer than two venues: The Bishops Arms pub and the Teatern theatre. 

The beer in The Bishop's Arms was, unsurprisingly, top-notch. However, we must say that on the occasion when we visited, the malodorous state of the ladies' loo left a lot to be desired.

The beautiful Art Nouveau theatre was packed to the gills with an audience eager to consume some of Nashville's finest musical exports. Said audience was not of the youthful, giddy variety, given to pranks and hi-jinks, but rather calm, collected and mature, prone to staying steady in their seats. It had not allowed its collected maturity to prevent it, however, from donning a variety of checked clothing, and one or two of the really mature audience members even sported fringed garments. 

The Kristianstad theatre is a wonder of grace and light. Not so the toilets, alas; although clean, they are prosaic to a painful degree. When will the citizenry of Kristianstad rise up and demand facilities that match the soul of the building? A population that is capable of devotion strong enough to result in fringed shirts is surely able to lobby for soulful toiletry? Onward, Kristianstad's older citizenry! Unto the breach!

Top: The Bishops Arms Pub, Kristianstad branch.
Bottom: The painfully prosaic bogs in the Teatern theatre.

 Last, but not least, we had occasion to visit the toilets in the party penthouse of the Turning Torso building in Malmö. We interpreted the taps as constituting either a practical IQ test, or some kind of shibboleth designed to separate the wheat from the chavs: they were so hard to operate that one could have solved the Riemann hypothesis in the time it took to work out how to wash one's hands. Possibly one needs to be posh to know how to push these taps.

 

Did tiny, rolled-up towels suddenly become a trend? When did this happen? And also why? And, for that matter, how? We do not understand this process. Have we been reading the wrong magazines?

Today's Festive Video is about not being broken.

 

Festive Video - Ross Cooper, I Rode the Wild Horses

Related Reading

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That time when we wondered if Jonny might be the Marlon Brando of toilet selfies: Echoes of Edgar Allan Poe 

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That time when we went to see a country band and ended up explaining fermented herring to a steel slide player from North Carolina: Where East Meets West