Have I ever ranted about showers? I hate showers!
I think there are shower people and bath people, just as there are nightdress and pyjama people. Just as you won't ever catch me in pyjamas, you are also unlikely to catch me in a shower. Well in a shower at home to be more precise.
In a garden centre in Fréjus I was once told that olive trees really don't grow well north of Avignon. I also believe showers are something that don't go with the climate above Avignon. South of Avignon, I love showers - you come in hot and sweaty and a lukewarm shower refreshes you. But here in Scotland in February, showers are torture. You take off your clothes to climb in and already it is cold. You turn it on and it skooshes you with 2 minutes of freezing water before the temperature soars to the other extreme scalding your freezing skin. Of course you try to avoid this by reaching in tentatively with one hand before stepping in but you can't quite reach round the shower screen so you soak the floor or your nightie in the process. Once scalded you turn the temperature knob less than a millimetre and once again the shower switches back to freezing, and the pressure fluctuates too. In the meantime your soggy feet are wrinkling on the cold floor. Thomas swears by them - says he needs one every morning to waken him up - of course he does - nothing wakens you up more abruptly! It is a toss up between sticking needles in your eyes or standing under the water.
Let me ease myself into a warm bath and lie there cosily for half an hour every evening to relax after all the little people go to bed - heaven! And leave showers to the US and southern Europe where I can truly enjoy them.