Have you ever wondered why women in restaurants or pubs or formal dinners go to the loos in twos? Sometimes it’s a whispered invitation and the pair get up and totter off; or perhaps one woman will stand and ask if anyone wants to accompany her to the toilet. If a man invited another man to the ‘gents’ and stayed for about 20 to 30 minutes, it wouldn’t work. So what do women get up to in the loo? Well, now I know.

At a charity dinner in All Souls College after drinks in the quad, our host announced that dinner was served. I asked the butler where I could spend a penny and she pointed out the nearest ‘gents’ loo across another quad. The door was locked so I had to wait outside.

A woman dressed in a black uniform was walking her bicycle across the cobbles and told me there was another toilet on the other side of the quad. It was reserved for ‘ladies’ tonight, but she thought it was empty now and asked if I would have a problem about using it. She walked over with me, pushed the door to check it was empty, escorted me in and then left.

Oxford Mail:

  • All Souls College

This loo was a small space with three mirrors, two cubicles and one frosted window where I could hear people talking outside on the High Street in central Oxford. I stood in cubicle one and while doing my business heard the ominous sound of the door opening and the clatter of four high heels on the tiles.

Obviously I was trapped but I was also determined to tough this one out. I wouldn’t budge from my toilet until the coast was clear and these women had finished with their visit. But then they started to talk… about the other women at the dinner, their clothes and their men with a bit of fantasy thrown in.

During the middle of their mascara makeover, four more high heels marched in, but these stilettoes aimed straight for the cubicles.

The loo was very noisy now, yet I thought I could hear another set of women enter what was coming to resemble Piccadilly Circus. I imagine the women could hardly move; and of course since I was holed up in one of the two cubicles, that meant this loo was running on minimum capacity at a point of maximum demand.

I could have come clean and walked out of my dungeon with my hands up: “Sorry about this!” and hightailed it out the door.

However this was a small dinner party of 70 people with 35 women and I knew the word would rip like wildfire through the group: “Someone was lurking in the ladies, can you imagine, but we’ve got his number and it’s him – Bill Heine.”

No, it would be better to play a waiting game. But one of the women tried to force my hand and grabbed the door of my cubicle.

“Anybody in there?” she said rattling the handle to my cage.

Although I was behind a solid, locked wooden door which would muffle my sound, I didn’t want any supplementary questions; so I did my best Dame Edna impersonation: “Yes, I’m fine, possums.” I thought ‘possums’ would do the trick and preclude any further conversation. I was right.

The women went quiet after a short spell. No more gossip, no stiletto clicks, no flushing sounds from the next door loo.

Had they all left? Was I safe? Could I escape?

I looked up and saw there was a the window extension from the top of the cubicle to the ceiling put in to contain sound and smell and maintain privacy in the loo.

Should I climb up and have a butcher’s? It was worth a try and there was a small ledge on top of the cistern.

Toilet cubicles are not made for climbing. They positively discourage it. There is nothing to hang on to; everything is tiled or painted gloss white and slippery.

The first steps were easy from the loo seat to the cistern, but that wasn’t high enough. So I used the door handle as a foothold and balanced my weight on the loo roll holder with the other foot.

That was the crucial manoeuvre. If it held, job done; but my foot slipped. I dangled and fell with a big bang. The collapse told me all I wanted to know. Several voices asked if I as alright.

“Yes, fine. Thanks.” I replied in Dame Edna speak. Actually neither ‘yes’ nor ‘fine’. I ripped my trousers at the crotch and cut my hand which was now bleeding profusely. I needed a new strategy and maybe that should include surrender. So exactly how many of the enemy did I have to deal with outside the safety of my cubicle: two, four or six?

I pushed the door open a crack and found the place was empty. Apparently the sound of my fall sent them all into a panic and they retreated as a group.

I opened the door to my dungeon and stood next to the frosted window pane a moment.

Outside people were leading normal, happy productive lives just a few inches away on the High, while I, the coward crouching in the cubicle, was dying a thousand deaths.

Bruised and bloodied, I emerged from captivity and crawled into the Great Dining Hall of All Souls College to enjoy an unforgettable night.