Was out on a client’s site all day today and got to the point where, somewhat inevitably, a spot of micturation was required. Nipped in to the toilet that they seemingly reserve for visitors and office staff (their largely eastern-European blue collar workforce, who have their own facilities apparently) to find a torn and dusty bag of potpouri hanging from some aging pipework with via the medium of disgruntled string – both had clearly been there for some years and doubtless the potpourri had long since lost all of its original odour.

I noticed a faded label on the torn bag announcing its intentions as “hint of spring” – I figured after that length of time in such uneviable surroundings, “waft of piss” might have been more appropriate.

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