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Recently I was visiting a friend and went upstairs to use her bathroom facilities. Her husband had used the same facilities shortly before me, and I noticed that, like most men, he had left the toilet seat up.
When I went downstairs, I jokingly suggested to my friend that she teach her husband to put the toilet seat down. She laughed and said it would be easier to teach the toilet to put its own seat down than to teach a male member of the species to do it.
We both then asked each other (and ourselves) the age-old question that this phenomenon always brings forth – namely, “Why?” There seems no logical reason why men cannot put toilet seats down after they have availed themselves of the facility afforded, but they do seem to be congenitally-handicapped in this area.
Anyway, I then told my friend that it was for her husband’s own good, and hers, that he acquired the habit of putting the toilet seat down. My friend then uttered that word again (“Why?”), and I explained that it wasn’t good Feng-Shui to leave toilet seats up.
Before my friend had the opportunity to discuss this interesting snippet of information further, her husband (who up until this point had been silent, apart from making the odd grunting noise – another male phenomenon) made a collection of very strange noises, followed by the immortal words “Fung SHWAY?”
“Yes, Fung Shway“, I replied. “It’s an ancient Chinese art. It’s supposed to …”
“I have no desire to know anything about it or what it’s supposed to do”, interrupted the husband (another male phenomenon). “But why are you pronouncing it like that? It’s Feng Shooey, not Fung SHWAY“.
“No it isn’t”, I replied. “It’s Fung Shway. Ask anyone who knows about it, and they’ll tell you. It’s definitely Fung Shway” .
“Well, whatever it’s called, it’s stupid. And what’s wrong with leaving the toilet seat up anyway? What does it have to do with Fung SHWAY?”
“It’s bad for your finances”, I replied.
“Eh?” grunted the husband.
“If you leave the toilet seat up, it means your money will leave the house. If you put it down, it will stay in the house”, I explained knowledgeably.
“What a load of codswollop. Of course money’s going to leave the house. It can’t stay here forever, can it? We have to pay bills and buy things”.
“Well, that’s what I read anyway. Maybe it means more will come in if you put it down or something”.
“So, if I always put the toilet seat down, I’ll be a millionaire one day. Is that what this Fung SHWAY says?”
“No, it doesn’t say that. I don’t know exactly what it says. I just read it somewhere, I told you”.
At this point, the husband got up and said, “You really do talk the most amazing rubbish I’ve ever heard in my life. I’m going down the pub”.
My friend returned from the kitchen at this point, with three cups of coffee for two people (sorry, I forgot to say she had gone to make us all a coffee, but at least it explains why she never said anything).
“Did you catch any of that?” I asked.
“Enough!” she chortled merrily. “I wouldn’t worry about it. He thinks you’re mad anyway. Do you still take five sugars?”
“Just as well I didn’t tell him that he could have even more money coming in if he stuck a stone toad on the front doorstep”, I chortled merrily back. “And no, I don’t take five sugars. I take three-and-a-half, unless it’s a very large mug, in which case I take more”.
“How many more?”
“One-and-a-half more”.
* * * * * *
A few days later, my friend popped over.
“You’ll never guess what”, she said.
“What?” I asked.
“My toilet seat hasn’t been left up since you were round the other day”.
“It hasn’t?”
“No, it hasn’t. But that’s not the best part”. At this point, my friend’s face took on a mysterious expression, and she smiled secretly to herself in a way reminiscent of the Mona Lisa.
“So go on then, tell me”, I said excitedly. “What’s the best part?”
“We have a new addition to the family!” announced my friend, with great pride.
“A new addition to the family?” I gasped, totally aghast. “Oh no, surely not? Not at your age. You’ll never cope with the night feeds on top of the night sweats”.
“No, not that sort of addition to the family. He’s a – well, he’s a sort of pet really, I suppose. His name’s Terry. Terry Toad, to be exact”.
“Terry TOAD? You’ve got a toad as a pet?”
“Yes, Terry Toad. We got him from the garden centre yesterday. He’s made of stone, and he lives on the front doorstep. And it wasn’t my idea, either”.
I decided at this point not to mention to my friend that after thinking about things for a while, I had a feeling it wasn’t toads that brought financial luck at all, but frogs. Then again, it might not be either. It may just be nothing more than a load of Feng Shui.
