I promised myself....

that I had blogged enough about identity and public conveniences and that I would turn my attention to more mundane matters from now on. Then I had another encounter. In total innocence I was striding towards the prospect of a decent lunch, not a care in the world except gratifying the rumbling in my stomach. In anticipation of gastronomic joy I had in mind to wash my hands. A door ahead looked promisingly like a familiar washroom. And then all of a sudden there IT was - the sign. I've seen it before but never given it much thought. With benefit of recent reflection however I have to reconsider. "This toilet is intended for those with special needs. All others are requested to use toilets on other floors"... It's me isn't it?

Once your eyes are opened...

This identity thing is starting to get serious. Wandering around a new (to me) part of the building today I noticed a sign 'Male toilet upstairs'. Unable to resist, I went upstairs but, alas, no corresponding female sign to be found! Instead, next to a door marked 'Male' was a sign with an arrow 'Accessible toilet'. Further down a long corridor however another door insisted 'Accessible toilet ONLY - please use toilets on other floors'. I retired, confused...

What is this person?

They brought me a name today. In fact, more than a name, a big heavy piece of painted metal with a name inscribed in blue and some semi-attached bits of black plastic. "It's very adaptable" they said "you can put it on the table, clip it to a door (which door??) or stick on the wall!" Now, I know this name, I mean, I've seen it before, it's not a bad name, it's served me well in many ways BUT it's not the whole story and I just don't see why I should plaster it up on a door or a wall or a table as if it (and I) is a thing!

I looked around me at others. I have been here 4 months and I pretty much know who everyone is and they know who (they think) I am. Only one or two had a 'name' like I just got. I couldn't help myself. "Why?" leapt out of my mouth. "Well you haven't been here long enough to have a wobbly desk leg needing a prop, or a window needing to be wedged shut, don't worry, you'll find a use for it!".

Thanks to Lou and her friends for this contribution to the debate

Preamble:

According to my wise old mum, when it comes to kids it's not a matter of boys and girls but of "how?" and "why?" She will tell you she has "one of each". I will leave it to you to decide which of them I am. Suffice it to say, for me there are only questions which time has taught me should rather be viewed in terms of answers waiting to be found...