Am I the only one totally perplexed by the recent trend for loo roll manufaturers to print cuddly stuff on their products? It is impossible to pop off for a poo without becoming familiar with the pictures of feathers, flowers, big shaggy bears and cuddly little dogs that now adorn the world’s most important pieces of paper.

Presumably it’s supposed to make you believe that the loo roll is especially soft. But I can’t work out how printing a picture of a dog improves the product in any meaningful way.

Besides, if they were being truthful about the quality of their product, most would print pictures of a cactus on it.

A comment I heard a lot from other people was that the event wasn’t quite what they expected. It certainly wasn’t a total geekfest as some may have expected. BBC Scotland’s tweeter noted the friendly atmosphere in an article about EdTwestival on the BBC News website. It felt a bit like a gig really — just one where people were staring into their iPhones a lot.

The venue was a bit odd. It was somewhat posher than I was expecting, and I was rather peeved that only expensive beers appeared to be available. I can tell you it was the first time I’ve ever paid £4 for a pint. I know Edinburgh is supposed to be expensive, but phweesh! I’ll have to stay on 99p Deuchars at Wetherspoons for a while to balance things out a bit.

The main action was happening in a room which appeared to be the outside on the inside. Or something. I only realised we were “outside” when I saw people smoking. There is an experience I’ve not had since 2006. The strange environment also prompted many to note how cold it was. A toasty atmosphere, but a cool temperature.

Meanwhile, I had trouble finding my way around. I was rather desperate for the toilet. I hadn’t been since I left my house at around half past three, having spent the couple of hours since I arrived at Edinburgh in deep discussion with a new acquaintance in a coffee house. I was becoming rather anxious to dispense with it.

So I started to wander around looking for the toilets. But they were nowhere to be seen. I consulted the floor plan, where I immediately found toilets on the second floor. So to the second floor I went, but when I arrived there I couldn’t see any signs to show me where to look after number 1. So I did what any sane person would do: stumble around until finding something that vaguely looked like a toilet.

I thought I had struck gold when I came across a door that had “GENTLEMEN” written on it (although it’s usually better not to dabble in the gold stuff in the toilet). Sadly, life is not so simple. As I reached for the door a person asked me where I was going. “Toilet,” I grunted rather impolitely, as I was rapidly running out of time. I was then asked something about an interview. I can’t remember exactly what my response was. Probably something like, “I don’t know, just let me take a piss.”

Suspicions grew further when there was no lock on the door. And there was a shower in the room. Had I begun to lay a yellow cable in someone’s en suite bathroom?

Possibly. I don’t know. While my Austin Powers-style jet was in full flow, I gradually realised what had happened. The room was being used by one of the sponsors (I forget which) of the Twestival for filming interviews. When I say “the room”, obviously I don’t mean the toilet itself. The room containing the toilet. That would have been really weird, though things were awkward enough as they were.

So when I came out I apologised profusely and to be fair the least I could do was go through the interview. Thankfully it wasn’t too bad, although I am now cringing at some of the answers I gave.

So that is a warning to you. If you see me on some website somewhere looking a bit flustered and awkwardly answering questions about my Twitter habits, it was my post-tinkle chit chat. Someone please warn me if it turns up somewhere.

That mishap aside, though, I had a great time at the Edinburgh Twestival. I met some cool people. It’s quite unusual to be recognised by the Twitter username on my name badge rather than something more traditional such as my face. I had a great chat with @Sarabian who recognised the name doctorvee not from Twitter but from this blog — specifically my posts about Woolworths.

There was also much fundraising fun to be had. Sadly, the raffle threatened to descend into farce when all of the tickets drawn were orange 3XX — whoops!

There was an auction where some of the items went for some rather low amounts, especially given it was for charity. Obviously everyone was saving up for the British Grand Prix tickets, which went for £300! Well out of my price range unfortunately. I sent a tongue-in-cheek tweet about it.

One of the coolest things about the EdTwestival was a projection which displayed all tweets mentioning #EdTwestival. Otherwise, I was locked out of the Twitter world. My phone is a bit of a relic so it was SMS only for me. But I saw my brother’s reply to my tweet about the British GP auction on the projector! That was a nice moment.

There was some good music from Peter Gregson, Plum and Epic26 — all new acts to me, and fun to discover. Unfortunately, the power went down while Epic26 were playing, and by that time I had to run for my train.

I also had to cut short conversations with @Sarabian and @happyseaurchin. Sorry guys! That’s the miserly First Scotrail for you though.

Overall, Edinburgh Twestival raised over £3,500 for charity: water. Not bad at all! And well above what the tweegies in the west raised. Which is what counts. Right?

I’d love for there to be another Edinburgh Twestival soon. It was a great evening. Hopefully by the next time I will have improved my mingling skills. And I won’t take a slash in the wrong toilet.

• EdTwestival Twitter account
• Photos from Edinburgh Twestival over at Flickr
• Visualisation of the meetings at Edinburgh Twestival
• Edinburgh Twestival on Twisualise

UFO sighting!

Was this an early sign that I was losing the plot? While I was on one of my many commutes from Kirkcaldy to Edinburgh I saw something in the corner of my eye while the train was passing Edinburgh Airport. At first I thought it was a bird or something — it was quite small. Just as I focussed on the mystery object, some kind of bullet or something shot across really quickly and the object disappeared in a puff of smoke.

My first thought was that there was some kind of clay pigeon shooting competition or something going on. But it seems unlikely that this would take place on the runway at an airport. Moreover, it seemed as though the mystery object was taken out by some kind of science fiction-style laser shot.

That experience was probably an early sign that the exams were genuinely driving me mad. For the sake of my own self-esteem, I have decided that it was a weather event. A really weird weather event.

Hand dryers that actually work!

There was a nasty surprise when nature called while I was in Edinburgh Waverley train station recently. It now costs 30p to spend a penny. The current inflation worries finally had a tangible effect on me personally. Forget food and fuel prices — the cost of taking a leak jumped by 50%! And it is plain inconvenient having to use a 20p and a 10p rather than just dealing with one 20p piece as before.

Anyway, I went in to do my business and they’ve given the place a nice renovation. The highlight is undoubtedly the new hand dryers. Hand dryers are notoriously awful. They just never do the job. All that ever happens is your hands get a bit hot and your hands remain as wet as they were when tap water rather than wind was enveloping them.

These new hand dryers in Edinburgh Waverley toilets are something else though. There are posters next to them that actually say, “Hand dryers that actually work!” I just thought to myself, “yeah right — hand dryers never work.”

The new dryers are quite strange. Rather than sticking your hands under a hot air blower, you stick your hands in a little slot in the top of a box. It’s a very strange feeling. You move your hands up and down in the pocket as wind gets blown around inside. I did this for around 10 seconds as the poster advised, but I was convinced that my hands would come out still soaking wet. But to my surprise my hands were bone dry! It’s like magic.

Furthermore, the posters proclaim that these new dryers are more energy efficient than the old design. The future of hand washing is indeed very exciting! These are special hand dryers — they have their own website as well.

So the next time you’re in Edinburgh Waverley station, think about going into the toilets even if you don’t need to go. Worth every of the thirty pennies.

The end of university!

I had three exams this time round. My personal feeling is that the first one went okay — could have been better, could have been worse. The second one was not okay — I had to choose two questions but I could only really answer one of them. The second question was just bluff. We’ll see how that went, but I’m not too confident about that. My third exam — the one I had the least amount of time to study for — was one of the best exams I’ve ever had.

At least I finished on a high. That is not quite my last action as a student. I still have some books to return to the library, collect a copy of my dissertation and utilise the careers service to try and work out what on earth to do next. Anyone want to offer me a job?

I won’t pretend I enjoyed university, and I don’t think I’ll miss it. Many people say the student days are the best days of their lives. The idea that the rest of life is even worse than this is something I’m trying to avoid thinking about.

Personally, I am not one of those who cares either way. I don’t see it as my right, as a male, to keep the toilet seat up after doing a number one. However, I certainly do not see it my duty to put the toilet seat down for the benefit of a female who can’t be bothered to put it down herself.

In fact, if I have a preference, it is to not only put the seat down, but also put the lid down. After all, let us not kid ourselves here. The toilet is a hole in our house that leads directly to a sewer. I would quite like to put a lid on that.

Economists to the rescue! Jay Pil Choi has taken a look [PDF file] at this vital issue from an economic perspective, and has concluded that the “selfish rule” — i.e., leaving the toilet seat as you, er, left it — is the most efficient.

So the next time you see the toilet seat up and you wish it was down, just remember — leaving it up was the most efficient outcome. Do you want to incur even more costs by having a wasteful argument about it?

Via Freakonomics.

Here is the glorious moment, mine is link #2.

Public toilets often have urinals for men because it is more convenient for them to urinate standing up, though some believe it is because it is less socially accepted for women to urinate standing. There are varying rules of etiquette associated with two more more males using adjoining urinals [1],[2]. A novelty, still rare, are public urinals for women, allowing them also to urinate standing up. This is done using a special tool ^[3] or with the finger-assist method ^[4].

Definitely one to put on my CV.

It’s difficult to know what I’ll achieve next with this blog!

Apparently women’s public toilets are quite nice places where people have a general chitty-chat. But men’s public toilets are places of fear and suspicion. If somebody speaks in a male toilet, it is practically the start of World War III. I suppose this is because the chances of being buggered are much lower in a women’s toilet.

The rules are fairly simple:

• No eye contact
• Don’t use a urinal if it’s next to a urinal that somebody else is using unless it is strictly necessary to do so
• Never, under any circumstances, speak — not even to a good friend

They are kind of unspoken rules. You don’t even consciously follow the rules. You only become aware of the rules when somebody breaks them. This happens a lot in pubs. Picture it. I’m standing there taking a leak, and some drunkard comes in making some small talk about the weather or something as though we were in the queue at Tesco rather than holding our penises.

The thing to do here is to finish your piss as quickly as possible, and do everything in your power to end the conversation quickly. There’s no time to wash your hands. Just go. As quickly as possible. Inform your friends of the man who started a conversation in the toilets. Everybody agrees that it’s just not on.

Some of you non-males out there might be wondering what the big deal is. Well I’ll tell you what the big deal is.

One time, a good few years ago now, I was in Dundee visiting a friend. I took the train home, and I decided at the train station to visit the toilet. I didn’t really need to go, but I thought I might as well. Worst. Decision. Ever.

I enter the toilet, and a man is already standing at the urinal. Bad news. I stand at the urinal furthest away and attempt to dispose of my waste when the man — let’s call him George — starts speaking. An alarm bell goes off in my head.

“I was bursting when I got off that train, and now ah cannae get it oot.”

This isn’t any old conversation. This is a conversation about how he is struggling to do a wee. There is a pause. But because I have been spoken to, I have completely frozen up, and now my winkie is malfunctioning aswell. The other guy will have been well aware of this, because there was no tinkling noise emanating from my urinal. I had no option but to explain myself. “I’m struggling aswell,” I said.

George replied, “You need to shake it aboot to get it oot.”

What. Thefuck! A pause.

“Of course, with all this shaking, I’m only getting hard.” Klaxons, flashing lights, air raid sirens go off in my head.

That’s not the end of it. “Are you hard?”, he asks. It was rather wishful thinking. I’d probably never been so shrivelled up in my life. Time to run. I put my willy away and get ready to zip up.

George: “I need to get rid of it.”

I need to speed up. I make my excuses: “I think I’ll try to go later.”

As I reach the door, George makes one last deperate attempt to retain my company. “Do you want to watch me get rid of it?”

And that’s why you never, ever speak in a men’s toilet.

This is the image they’re using for the new ‘exam revision’ section on our university course’s website. What’s more, it’s about twice the size of all the other icons. Every time I log on to check how much reading I’ve not done, all I see is a massive toilet.

I mean, come on, it’s got a lid and everything. Okay, so there is a little chair there, but I’ve never sat an exam at a desk that looks like a toilet. I reckon it must be one of those fancy Japanese toilets. Maybe we’re sitting the exam at a toilet just in case those exam-time nerves go a bit, er, overboard.