Another thing I never really minded until I moved here… no bathroom electrical socket.
In another case of Health & Safety zeal, English bathrooms may only have electrical outlets that connect through an isolating transformer rather than directly to the main, like other outlets.
Even the light switches are outside of the bathroom, which makes my habit of turning off lights especially fun for others.
Don’t get me wrong, I recognize that risk created by a collaborative effort uniting my bathroom sink and 220v of direct current could result in a very brief pyrotechnics display worthy of a KISS show.
I do not want my obituary to credit a, “Sonicare-related episode” or a, “freak hairstyling accident” for my untimely death. I just want to dry my hair in there.
Eventually, the siren song of the opportunity to blow dry under the unforgiving lights of my bathroom was simply too much to resist. I went in.
So, to get around this obstacle, I added a gang socket (American: short extention cord with lots of outlets) into the mix, which I plugged into the outlet in the hallway within my apartment. Bear in mind that the bathroom where I want to pursue my walk on the wild side/hairdrying is accessible from the bedroom; however, the closest outlet is actually in the hallway. I gather that not only can there not be regular sockets in the bathroom but there can’t be any nearby.
The extension cord added to the fun by adding yet another event to the obstacle course I lovingly call home in the early morning. It provided my husband with a much-needed agility test that I’m sure he enjoyed much more than he said he did at the time. I felt it was the least I could do given that he had mastered the occasional minefield that is the cat and his indigestion.
Hair dried, I disassembled the rig, and retired it. Perhaps the Health & Safety culture is wearing off on me, but realistically, it’s laziness teamed with the acceptance of my lack of hairdryer skills.