Public Inconvenience

Thursday

Enjoyed a reassuringly delicious coffee at a cafe near Borough Market this morning. When one is limited to a single cup a day, it's seriously disappointing to get a weak and milky cup slopping its way onto the counter. What I'm looking for is rich, dark, bitter coffee with a swirl of froth on the top. I want to feel the kick as it tweaks my tastebuds and leaves a stain on the teeth. I want to know that a small army of underpaid workers have not been exploited in vain just to produce a pointless cup of homogenous hot milk presented in an oversized branded mug with a drizzle of sickly syrup from a double-skinny-wanky-time-wasting-homely-decor-coffee-chain-that-makes-me-hate-globalisation. I do not want a latte or a decaf or an 'Americana' burnt offering that's been left in the pot for hours. Ideally, I want a formica table topped old fashioned 'caf' run by 1950s Italians with a London accent, but failing that the little cafe on Borough High Street opposite Barclays bank with fab looking slices of cake and coffee that tastes like coffee in anonymous paper cups works a treat. And breath - coffee rant over.

Following my worthy (in the best sense) coffee and girly chat, I head off in the direction of London Bridge and the saftey of North London. On my way I realise I need yet-another-pee (well, it's been an hour and half). Quite desperately. So, I pop into Southwark cathedral but there's no-one around (perfect opportunity to nick the silverware, if you're that way inclined, which I'm not, in fact I put 50p in the pot and lit a candle) to ask if I could use the vestry loo as I'm pregnant (pregnancy, I'm learning, is the perfect excuse to do things you wouldn't normally - ask for a seat, use the loo, etc). I try the cafe at the bottom of the steps but they stare at me in a surly way and I can't be bothered to have the debate and so run up the stairs thinking that there must be a loo in London Bridge station.

Five minutes later and I'm following the signs to the 'Toilet - Platform 13', which they neglect to mention is effectively on the other side of London it's so far away. What's more, as I reach platform 10 my path is barred by the ticket barriers and it takes half a minute (with me hopping from leg to leg) to get the attention of the platform attendant who kindly informs me that it (the loo) is taking people's money but not letting them spend the provervial penny and that I'd better try the (free) toilet on platform 5. Thanking her, I turn and dash back across London to the entrance to platforms 1-6 and another ticket barrier. The attendant there quips and jokes as he lets me through the barrier and off I run (I must be approaching Dover by now) and up the ramp to platform 5. Another half a mile along the platform and we're finally at the Ladies (technically, on Platform 6, but let's not split hairs) and... in a queue. Several minutes of foot swapping and vertical leg crossing and I'm finally in and sat on a slightly damp seat enjoying possibly the best pee ever.

If someone could invent a discreet portable potty for expectant women , they would make a fortune.