Locked in Mystery!

Due to the fact that we live a way out of town, the Thursday weekly ‘town run’ is usually a bit of an ordeal.  Going to town involves a guitar lesson, grocery shopping, an obligatory visit with The Odd Couple and trying to find all those sundry items you couldn’t find at the first supermarket.

Added to the ordeal is the fact that by the time the journey to town is complete, the six cups of coffee consumed earlier that morning usually want out.  This means either a hunt for a public loo or an early visit to The Old Couple’s abode.  Fortunately, after having lived down here for so long, my bladder has GPS’ed the public loo locations so the hunting part is no longer necessary.

An added bonus of small towns is that the public facilities are usually clean and tidy.  Naturally, the loo facilities at The Odd Couple’s home are always perfectly acceptable with nothing untoward to catch the eye, except maybe the odd shape of the bar of soap at the basin.  I would love to know what they do to their soap to make it resemble an amoeba.

However, there is one aspect of a public loo that I cannot figure out.  And I speak purely as a frequenter of the ladies because, by nature of my gender, I cannot claim any knowledge of the male facilities.

Have any other ladies out there ever noticed the locks on the public loo doors?  They are usually in some form of disassembly or have been replaced on numerous occasions.

My question is why?  What happens that these locks are so badly damaged that you have to try and make yourself comfortable on the porcelain throne and stretch your leg out to keep the door closed with your foot?  Or previous badly damaged locks have been removed as evidenced by the multitude of holes in the door and replaced with a super duper double strength bolt?

Is the damage incurred when a damsel in distress flees an irate man, hides in the loo and quakes in her boots when he proceeds to kick the door in?  Do ladies lock themselves in, then forget how the lock works and require center management to come and break them out?  Do they lock themselves in, forget which way to unlock and then force it?

What could possibly account for the fact that the lock on a public loo is either broken or makes you feel like a horse in a stable because of the size and industrial strength nature of the replacement?

‘Tis a mystery which I would love to unlock!