Guest Blogger.

When recounting my bowel-related tales of this holiday to the author of this blog I struggled to remember anything significant happening on my trip to Peru, but now having re-read the poo diary I kept while there I have realised that it is in fact pure filth throughout. For the fourteen days I was in Peru I excreted a total of seventeen movements averaging out at 1.21 Poos per Day (PPD). While most people may not think this is a high average when travelling to a foreign country; compare this to the 0.64 PPD I experienced for the 14 days prior to this trip. Was it the change in diet that caused this? Perhaps a change in the mineral content of the water I was drinking? Whatever the reason for this change, I hope it and the stories I’ve provided are amusing enough for you all to read as they were for me to reminisce about.

My first bowel movement occurred in Manchester airport at 3am. Having abandoned an unflushed and shit-covered cubicle in favour of a cleaner one I was promptly joined in the bathroom by some raucous young men clearly on their way abroad for a “lads” week away. One of them kindly entered the cubicle next to me and took a very speedy, airy dump. Luckily this was the last time I was rudely interrupted in the sweet art of dropping a load for the rest of the trip.

Having felt no need to go on the plane (an unusual occurrence for me) I took my first dump in the country of Peru about 1:15pm in our hotel room right before a trip around the Colonial centre of Lima and immediately blocked the toilet with a large Bristol Stool Scale Type 4 log. After unblocking the toilet, the crisis was not yet finished as, while wiping, I noticed a sign which stated that Peruvian plumbing is not equipped to deal with foreign bodies such as toilet paper and that I would have to put my used paper in a bin next to the toilet. I have purposely avoided countries like Greece for this very reason, but despite my disgust I obliged and placed the used paper in the bin.

The next day we flew to Cusco to explore Incan sites in the city and the surrounding area before the start of the Inca trail. As eventful as the exploring was the story down below was less eventful. The next four days consisted of two single poo days and two double poo days with nothing interesting to tell from my point of view. At the Inca trail briefing however, there was a man discussing the diarrhoea he contracted in the jungle. At this point I did consider getting him to guest blog for this guest blog to provide some interesting material, but I decided against it as he seemed to be mentioning it for health reasons, rather than recreationally.

The local diet in Cusco was more starch-based than I’m used to, consisting of a lot of potatoes and corn. I knew this would catch up with me eventually and it did so on the first day of the Inca trail with this being the only day in Peru without a registered poo. I did however notice the toilet we were expected to use in camp which consisted of a very small fabric tent concealing inside a plastic foldable toilet with a bag in the bottom for the waste. (A picture of this is included below). It wasn’t until the next day I got to sample the delights of this toilet. I initially tried to squat over the toilet rather than sit on it. Unfortunately I very quickly realised that the tent was so small I wouldn’t be able to do this. So I did what anyone would do in such a situation. I changed angle to give myself more room and sat down. Plastic touched skin and I thought this would be the end of the ordeal, business completed, success! I was wrong however. No movement occurred despite my overwhelming need to go. A few minutes past; at this point most people would have given up and walked away feeling defeated. Not me, I clamped my hands down on the toilet and pushed the movement out. My delight at this though was outweighed by the significant wiping I had to do afterwards (during which I also managed to break the toilet roll holder); meaning that I had not emptied my system fully and that the next day a similar ordeal would likely occur.

We stopped for lunch the next day at 10:30am and after eating, my body decided that this is where I would be finishing the job I’d started the day before. The tent was being used at the time so I chose to use the toilet block located at this rest stop. Inside was what is known in my family as a “French toilet” but I believe is more commonly known as a “squat toilet”. This toilet would have seemed quite luxurious if it wasn’t for all the mud covering the white tiles on the floor (I hope it was mud). Squatting over the toilet with my pants down around my ankles I struggled at first to get anything moving so I adjusted into a lower squat where nothing happened still. I adjusted upwards again causing it to come loose. I had perfected the squatting technique six years ago in Tanzania, but now, being a bit out of practise my aim was a little off and the paste that left my body managed to end up all over the back of the toilet. I readjusted and squatted again for round two. This time, with perfect aim, the rest of everything leaving my body landed straight in the hole. I wiped up and would have casually walked away if the flush hadn’t caused the toilet to overflow (a downside of this toilet style), causing me to dash out of the cubicle instead.

The final day of the Inca trail passed almost uneventfully. I felt no need at all to go until we returned to our hotel in Cusco; it was in fact my travelling companion’s bowel movement that was today’s highlight. He managed to completely block the toilet with a beast that could not be budged; even by several flushes of the toilet. This was due to the fact that he had not been for the entirety of the Inca trail (something he revealed to me at a later date). 

Another movement that same day was followed by a three poo day which rounded off my time in Cusco, while the last day of the trip in Lima was a rather unexciting single poo day, followed by another on the first of two travel days. This last Peruvian movement was rather unpleasant as it occurred at about 6:10am after being awoken by a burning sensation in my bowels. To this day I have no idea what caused this; the running theory being that it may have been a delayed, adverse reaction to the Guinea Pig I ate two nights before in Cusco, but with nothing concrete I have put it down to one of life’s many mysteries. The final day of travelling saw me feel absolutely no urge to go to the toilet as I returned home; it then became apparent that the adventure was over and my bowel’s normal service had been resumed.

New beginnings

It's been 4 weeks since I bid an emotional farewell to my old workplace latrine and whilst I am over the worst of the pain, I have yet to find a suitable replacement. Put a dog in an unfamiliar environment and it will sniff around curiously before settling down in it's new spot. I am still sniffing around.

The first week of my new job saw me go down to the main office which meant staying overnight for 3 nights in a hotel. Unsure what the days would hold in store for me I made sure, on my first two days, to go before I left the hotel room. In a world of uncertainty I wanted one assurance, that I could go in peace. The toilets in a premier inn act as a log flume and as a result of this, combined with first week nerves, meant that the Eastern European cleaners had a real job on their hands to remove the pebble dashing effect I had left behind. They sure earned their £1.50 per hour that day.

Day three saw me shadowing a member of my team at a client. It was an early start and I awoke long before my bowels did. I knew I was going to have to go at the clients site. My main issue is that in my first week I don't want to be "the  guy who goes for a shit", that is an aspect of my personality that needs to be slowly introduced to people. I had no reason to leave the room we were in other than to go to the toilet, if I was a long time he'd know where I was. Never the less I upped and left the room at around 11, dashed to the toilet, got in and got out as quickly as possible, no messing around on my phone, no chilling. Upon returning to the room I was quick to cover my tracks "god this place is like a little rabbit warren, I walked right past the toilets". This would reasonably explain the extra time and to my colleague there would be no suspicion. I was extremely  proud of myself.

Week 2 rolled round. I had returned home but I was ready for my second first week. My new role sees me based almost entirely on site with a client rather than at the head office so this felt more like my first week than my actual first week. This is where I would need to find a new throne. I had a tour of the building and decided to check out the toilets, I didnt need to go but a quick inspection wouldn't hurt. The ground floor mens toilet has two very nice cubicles, however, there is a lot more men working in this building compared to my old job and therefore there is a lot more traffic. I have chosen my favourite cubicle but I cant switch off in there, there's two much traffic and I don't feel like I can disconnect from the workplace.

The major issue with too much traffic is that inevitably someone else will need to go. To me, it will remain one of life's great mysteries that whenever I've been in a cubicle next to someone else, you can guarantee that they will have a case of the squits. Today I was the victim of one of these incidents. I was sat, slowly unloading whilst checking facebook, nice and relaxed. Then a horrible squelching sound comes echoing through the cubicle walls, I turned my head in disgust at the wall. The look on my face would be the same look you'd get for doing a loud fart in a library, or laughing at a funeral. What's worse is that these people aren't even self-concious of the sounds they are making as it is quite often followed by "OOOOOH GOD YEAH" before grunting and squelching some more.

I frequent my new toilet throughout the day for number 1 purposes. When I go in, my preferred cubicle is often in use by someone, I have to stand at the urinal whilst someone else commits and abhorrent act upon my throne. My old workplace toilet...I knew she spent time with other men but she never rubbed my face in it, I could pretend it didnt happen, it was all mine. I cant avoid it with my new one she just stands there and takes it like the slut it is.

I'm still searching for a special place, the right place. The ground floor one doesn't seem to be working out for me, a wider search of the building may be in order. If the worst comes to the worse my old work is only 5 mins down the road, would they miss me for 20mins? I could be reunited with my old love.

214) Farewell to and old friend

Today marked the final day at my current job before going out into the big wide world and starting a big boy graduate trainee job. I have made a lot of friends at this place of work who I will miss a lot, however, the one friend I will miss the most is the middle floor mens toilet. On a daily basis I have sought sanctuary in this mini-version of heaven. My mornings feel incomplete if I have not visited this cubicle.

To demonstrate why I love this toilet so much I have attached a couple of photos.

As you can see the cubicle is it's own room within a room, seemingly cut off from the rest of the world. It's a mens only cubilce and given that there is usually a maximum of 4-5 men in the building, it was a place I could go undisturbed for a good 15mins. When I sat in here nothing else mattered, if my work load was piling up and things were getting stressed I could take a break, unload and kick back for 5. This cubicle was like a best friend. In the coming weeks I will have to find a new cubicle, I will some how have to communicate to my new colleagues that this cubicle is mine at around 10:30 in the morning, but I will have to communicate this without damaging my "professional" image.

I have done 214 poos this year and a good number of them have been in this cubicle, you will be missed my friend. Thanks for putting up with all my shit.

My last poo :(

EXCITING NEWS

A friend of mine has gone to Peru for two weeks to do the Inca trail. Throughout the two weeks he will be keeping note of his bowel movements and will be writing a guest blog for Tales From the Rim

LONDON BABY

The  last bank holiday weekend for a couple of months saw me and the other half take a weekend trip to London. I'd like to start with a shout out to Penrith train station for their outstanding number two facilities. I nipped in for a quick pre-train pee and I couldn't help noticing the cubicles, they were nicely decorated spacious and clean it would have been an honor to lay a cable there and a little part of me was left upset that I didn't have one prepped and ready to go.

The train journey down left me feeling a little travel sick, my stomach was left rattled and I was sure I would need to go once I arrived in London, alas, when we got to the hotel I was clogged up, something which regularly happens when I travel.

Saturday night came round and there had still been no movement since Friday morning. We had dinner from an Indian food festival followed by a couple of drinks, this would either make me need to go or it would pile more food into the already quite interesting cocktail of foods sitting in my stomach. I awoke Sunday morning. Still no urge. It had been 48 hours since I last went, I wondered if I would ever poo again. We upped and left the hotel to do the usual London sights, Picadilly circus, Leicester Square followed by Covent Garden.

52 hours and still nothing  had appeared. If my bowel movements were a missing child  the whole neighborhood would be out searching for it. We sat down at Itsu for a raw fish sushi lunch, 'this should make things interesting', I thought. This started something, the urge hit me in M&M world two hours later, I suddenly became irritable and frustrated and was on the look out for a toilet.

54 hours after my last movement I sat down and relaxed. I gave birth to a monster. When a ship sets sail on it's maiden voyage, superstition dictates that a bottle of champagne is smashed against side of the ship. I felt this would have been a fitting tribute to what I had created but to my dismay I didn't have a bottle of champagne to hand. I sat back, glowing, in a post orgasmic state that is normally attributed to 1minute 36 seconds on pornhub. I felt like a new man, I had a new lease of life.

Like a bus, you wait ages for one and then two come along at once. We were back at the hotel and decided to take a trip to the 27th floor to see the views of London. As we looked towards Stamford bridge, I got the worst cramps in the world, I demanded we go back to room immediately. Usually when I'm desperate I'm very good at holding it in but not this time. I knew that I would not be able to hold this back. We rushed back to the room, never has an elevator taken so long to arrive. When we eventually got in I watched as the numbers slowly counted down from 27 to 9, hoping, praying that no one on the other floors had called for the lift. As it hit 9 I bolted out the lift, into the room and threw myself onto the toilet where a type 7 fell out of me. The remains of the previous nights Bombay special created a burning ring of fire. Cramp after cramp, wave after wave I sat on the toilet for a good 10 minutes suffering from the midday sushi. Thankfully this episode was a one off as opposed to a crippling illness which would have seen me running from toilet to toilet for the rest if the weekend. 

Monday morning came round without further incident. I had my usual morning poo before checking out of the hotel and heading for Wembley for the Boro vs Norwich play off final. It was in the first pub of the day where I felt that I could do with a poo, however, the pub was rammed there was no way I'd be able to do one.  I decided to wait. The whole  day we went from pub to pub but the toilets were so rammed it was hard to take a leak let alone something more solid. I wasn't desperate and the need wasn't urgent but I grew increasingly frustrated at the inability to unload. It wasn't until 7 hours later after the match that I was able to release. At last I was able to relax for the long drive home.

152) Aprils Round Up

When I started this blog I was still living with my parents and working in a deadend job. Now I have my own place and landed myself a decent graduate job. As I left the interview centre on 30th April I thought to myself "I've done it, I have my own place and a half decent career path, I'm a grown up" This thought was quickly brushed aside by the realisation that it was the end of the month and I would need to tally up my turds for the month. Don't worry people I'm not ready to grow up yet, I may now discuss gardening tips with family friends, I may discuss tips for the perfect meatball sauce with the ladies at work but I still have a very large place in my heart for my bowel movements.

April was a big month with 41 poos over the 30 day period which is an average of 1.36PPD - the highest of every month. The consistency of March was a massive contrast to the erratic month of April. Where March saw an 8 & a 7 day streak of singles, Aprils best was 3 single poo days in a row. Additionally, on two occassions in April I hit a total of 3 poos in a day. I recall feeling unwell between the 20th and the 22nd and this was reflected in my bowel movements and I notched up 2-3-2 over the 3 days.

This month contained a lot of birthdays (mine included), the first month living in my own house (and thus being able to walk to the pub) and an interview process so it is not surprising that I have been inconsistent and frequent. Here's hoping normal service is resumed in May.


Did you know? 
Despite having a job interview and a history of a nervous stomach I only defecated once on April 30th.

155) Start as you mean to go on.

I have recently applied for and been interviewed for a new job. The most recent round was little over a week ago. Suffice to say I was extremely nervous beforehand. I caught the early train and the nerves began to kick in, the blender in my bowels was in full swing. At Preston station I made straight for the toilets and unleashed an Armageddon. It was extremely satisfying and stress relieving but that is not the main focus of this post, more a small anecdote to start the day.

Tuesday morning back at the office and I was cracking on with a mundane spreadsheet that had been waiting for me following the bank holiday weekend. I noticed a missed call and a voice mail, it was the recruitment team wanting to discuss my interview. Unable to focus on my work I went to ring them back, I couldn't find anywhere discrete to make the call - I was very keen not to let anyone at work know I'd applied for a job until I'd got it. After a quick wander round the building to try and find somewhere quiet, I abandoned the idea of calling them back and decided to go for a belated morning dump. After dropping the kids off at the pool, I was well into my post-movement browsing when I suddenly realised this was the perfect place. It was quiet, there was good signal and if it was good news I could share it with my one true love, my porcelain princess.

"......and so on that basis we'd like to offer you the job", relief came over me and I suddenly zoned back into the room to realise I was talking to my future employer with an unwiped arse and my pants wrapped round my ankles. They were non the wiser. As the phone call drew to a close I suddenly realised that I would have to say goodbye to a lot of friends but worst of all I would have to say goodbye to the toilet. This toilet is the best toilet I have ever known, it's not a cubicle, it is it's own room nestled away in the building. The low ratio of men to women mean that it is barely used other than by me. The toilet at my new place of work will have a lot to live up to. The salary of my new job will be much higher but it will be hollow and meaningless if the toilet is not up to scratch. Here's hoping.