Singular satisfaction of scorching sudsy shampoo shower

As we age, I suppose it is fair to say that the range of pleasures we enjoy tend to get culled over the years. That being said, I would contend that the little pleasures of life; the ‘small and simple things’, become more intense and enjoyable.

One such pleasure I enjoy on a daily basis is a long, hot shower. It has little to do with me being clean (!); this has all to do with the pleasurable tingles of the hot power-shower caressing my back and… ah, you know yourselves.

Of course the spoilsports and my main advisor insist that this is bad for me. ‘It dries out your skin’, according to Mrs Youcantbeserious. But I don’t care… like the old hippy, ‘if it feels good I’ll do it’ – and at this stage of my life, I’ve given up all I’m going to give up!

I have a couple of friends I really admire and they are great; but, God between us and all harm, their thing is to go jump in the freezing lake every morning all year round. Even writing about it here causes my teeth to chatter. Oh Lord Almighty… when it comes to skin colour give me lobster red over icy blue any day!

I have a long love affair with my hot shower - performed, as we shall relate here, in a variety of settings. After coming up from underground in my mining days, where nothing could be seen but the whites of our eyes; exiting the headframe, heading for the ‘dry’, stripping off the heavy, wet mining gear before stepping into the massive high-powered showers was the highlight of the day for me.

It washed away more than the grime. The aches and pains from a hard shift got soothed and often the troubles in the head were eased into the bargain.

The next great ritual of staging my favourite shower was in the squash club. After playing rallies on court, with the heart opened at full throttle and the lungs feeling too small for the job at hand; body lathered in sweat before the enveloping shower felt almost orgasmic… (if that is a word - as Ross O’Carroll-Kelly might ask!).

After attending a cow with a difficult calving out in the field on a cold, wet, wintry night; what stays in my mind is the stripping off of the wet and mangy clothes at the back door (sorry Gorls!) and Mrs Youcantbeserious eventually trying to coax me out of the shower with; ‘are you dead in there?!’.

Back to the present, and I don’t need any excuse to go ‘jump in the shower’. We have one power shower in the house – and it is mine! The other full-time resident and visitors are grand with their electric showers but not this kid.

I’m up there in the midst of shampoo and suds, the jets of mad hot water connecting with the pleasure sensors on my back and… again, you know yourselves. The duration of this ritual is governed only by the capacity of the hot water cylinder… and if any of you are listening, I want a bigger one for my birthday! (Cylinder that is!)

Did I mention that the shower relieves stress? And it is a great place for ideas. Some of my best columns (like this one!) have come to me with my eyes closed in the shower.

The rest of you may take your daily shower for granted, but I don’t. To me it is a luxurious and personal experience where each one is as good as the last.

I would imagine that the average person only spends around five minutes in the shower – at least that is how it is with the average person I live with. But there must be some of you out there like me?

And another thing: would you believe that while I am not a singer, I can actually sing in the shower whenever I put my mind to it. There was music in the one in our last house, but now, here in Irishtown, I can actually hear myself better unaccompanied.

A couple of tips from this shower specialist. You don’t need to shampoo your hair every time you ‘hop’ in the shower. Too much washing removes the natural oils from your scalp and isn’t the best for you. Another thing, don’t feel you have to scrub every inch of your body while you’re in there. Just let the spray do its job as you count your blessings.

I can’t stay any longer with you. An urgent compulsion has descended upon me and I just have to go jump in the shower…

Don’t Forget

The trouble with life is that by the time you know how to play the game you are too old to make the team.