Help!!!

Do I ever yearn for the past? No. Do I regret any of my life’s major decisions? Not really; I might have done a few things differently, but the end result would probably have remained the same. I should have worked harder perhaps, taken more advantage of some of the very nice opportunities that have come my way, that will continue to come my way. Is there anything I miss from my days as a footloose and fancy-free bachelor (apart from peace and quiet, the occasional lie in, eating whatever I like without being told I’m getting fat, that I ought to diet, that I should watch my blood pressure…)? YES, THERE IS! There is something, a simple right that is frequently denied me. I really miss going to the loo, and sitting there for as long as I like without being interrupted, going to the ‘library’, as my father called it, with the newspaper or a book. Reading is one of my favourite pastimes. Some of my greatest, most enjoyable reads have come while sitting on the loo.
Now whenever I go to the loo I am always on edge, unable to relax, afraid that at any moment the door will burst open and in will walk my wife, or one of the children, or both children, or all three together – their excuses ranging from make-up, hair, washing teeth... Perhaps if they knocked it would remove the element of surprise, ease the tension. Oh, for a second bathroom.
More often than not I now sneak to the loo in the middle of the night, sure in the knowledge that I will not be disturbed, though there are those moments when I think (probably my paranoid mind playing tricks on me) I hear a sound and imagine the whole family bursting in on me.
“Boo!”
Let’s face it; sitting on the loo isn’t exactly the most elegant position to be caught in, especially if in the middle of actually… you know.
One day, my mother-in-law came round to bake a birthday cake for one of the children while they were at school and Stella was at work, and our Rumanian housekeeper still hadn’t arrived; perfect conditions for a visit to the library. I called out to her that I was going to the bathroom. She replied that I was not to worry, that I was to take as long as I liked (Ah, I thought, a person after my own heart).
I went to the loo, this time to work on some notes for a story I was writing. It was coming along very nicely, I was relaxed… To say I was enjoying myself might sound like an exaggeration, but you know what I mean; to poop in peace is a luxury in my house.
The phone rang.
“Don’t worry, Robert,” Stella’s mum shouted. “I’ll get it.”
I mouthed a silent ‘thank you’.
I heard her muffled voice...
Silence.
Then the bathroom door burst open.
“It’s for you,” my mother-in-law said as she handed me the phone…

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