To pee or not to pee

I need to pee. I look for a sign for 'ladies'. Ah, sign post for toilets pointed left. Now where are they? Ladies, yes! I pull on the wrought iron gate. It's not moving. Damn! Cross my legs and try again. Just after six and they've locked up for the night. I don't believe it. "Excuse me, love, is there another loo around here?" I practically run down the road, well, as fast as you can run with your legs crossed.

The park is really dark, but needs must. The outside is covered with graffiti. But at least the door is open, sorry, absent. I rush inside, my belly starting to ache from the need to go. Cubicles, yes, actual toilets, no. Smashed to smithereens. I am tempted to just go on the floor; from the smell that's what others had done. But in a dark park, with no doors, I don't think so.

Out onto the bright streets and look for someone to ask. There's no one around. I spot a taxi rank. There must be a toilet there. "Where's the toilet?"

"Down the steps, love, but it's men only."

By now I don't care. I'm in agony. I run down the steps. They seem to go on forever. Ah, problem. Urinals only. And it's occupied. Not sure who is most embarrassed, me, or the bloke who's just piddled on his boots. "Get out!"

There must be a toilet somewhere I can use. Then I get that warm, wet feeling and I wake up. I've wet the bed again!

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