I took an overnight trip to Edinburgh with my school when I was younger. For the first time ever I slept in a halfway-decent hotel and spent ages in the shower just standing there afterwards, wondering why it felt so nice. Big glass doors that opened in both directions, jets spraying water from all angles, steam heating up the room… It brought home to me just how crappy the shower was in my flat.
For as long as I can remember, it had been this awkward corner unit shower tray thing. The kind that are fitted with cheap-looking suites so you have to contort yourself into a “tree-trimmer” position just to rinse the shampoo out of your hair. It leaked around the door seal, had an archaic shower head with about as much pressure as a sad hosepipe sprinkler, and barely afforded me enough room to rotate without bumping my elbows.
My girlfriend had been complaining about it for ages. Well, complaining might be strong – constantly moaning may be closer to the mark.
She wasn’t wrong, of course; our bathroom was atrocious.
But I’d made excuses for years because Teacher Salary + Mortgage apparently doesn’t equal “budget for a bathroom remodel.” Also I genuinely didn’t know where to start – or what sort of things were worth spending money on. It took someone smashing their elbow on the shower door for me to actually do anything about it. Literally.
Come undone from years of abuse and landed flat on the floor one Tuesday morning before I got ready for work. Like someone delivering divine intervention, I stood there staring at this pathetic broken plastic strip wondering why I hadn’t taken action sooner. That evening I went down to B&Q and started wandering around like a kid in a sweet shop.
Mentally planned a new shower alcove twice the size of the old one. As in literally measured out how many inches long I wanted it to be on the sides of refrigerators. Priorities… Anyway, as with anything diy-related I did my research first.
Pored over forums on everything from waterproofing techniques to things people wish they’d known when remodeling their shower. Pretty soon had a spreadsheet fuller than my mortgage details. Space was by far the most important thing.
And by space, I mean square footage, obviously. Standard shower trays are around 800mm sq which is fine if you’re six foot tall and a ninety-pound weakling. For the muscles I’ve built up man-handling delinquent teenagers, I figured I needed at least 1200mm x 900mm.
Go big or go home, amirite? We were pushing it width-wise but luckily our bathroom was long enough to accommodate the extra depth. I ended up going for 1400mm x 900mm.
I cannot stress enough the difference this made. Turning around without smacking myself in the face was just the start… I ended up getting two shower heads. The standard rainfall one was non-negotiable – those puppy-headed options may be fashionable, but they don’t hold a candle to the full-bodied pressure of a good old shower head.
Mounted this about 2.5 metres up in the ceiling so you get the full force of water dripping straight down on you. Jesus wept. Got one about 250mm wide which gives you an awesome punch of water without leaving bald patches wherever you look.
Added a handheld option on a slide rail as well which I thought would be gimmicky but honestly saves loads of space when you’re rinsing off. Plus you can stick that down low and rinse out the bottom of the shower tray without pulling every muscle in your back. Speaking of pressure – nothing whirls your nuts around like a couple of well-placed body jets.
Got three of those too, installed at different heights along the back wall. Admittedly this was an absolute whim that I probably could’ve lived without. I thought it’d be ridiculous spending that much extra on what is essentially a glorified trickle of water.
HOWEVER. My word they’re good. Not just on your buds, either.
Up towards the top they act like a dream for hitting those pressure points you didn’t know you had. Late nights grading Year 9 essays will do that to you. If there’s one thing our flat block is known for it’s inconsistent water pressure.
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Tatty old victorian conversion, so one minute you’re bathing like a King; the next some idiot in Flat 2’s decided to wash their hair and you’re either scalded or frozen solid. Splashed out on one of these thermostat valves that regulate the temperature you set it at regardless of how hard anyone else in the building decides to pump their shower. About £350 worth of peace of mind if my shower gets seized up for some reason.
Almost got a steam generator as well. Flew out to America last year and stayed in a hotel that had one of these bad boys installed. Bloody loved it, but not sure I was game enough to spend that much on something I’ll maybe use once a month.
Did treat myself to an extractor fan that kicks on automatically when it senses moisture and continues running for half an hour after you leave. Doesn’t sound like much but absolutely game-changer in a flat where mould is always lurking. Carved out plenty of time planning tile options too.
Went down thenatural stone” route but heard they can be pricey to maintain and keep on slippery when wet. Ended up going with these huge porcelain tiles that mimic marble 3. Perfect balance of luxurious without having to spend a day polishing down the shower tray after you’ve used it.
See what I mean about lighting being important? Interior lighting of the shower, I should say. Included some led strip lighting behind these frosted glass tiles that I found online.
Looks ace and floods the shower with an even light that doesn’t pick out all the junky corners. The bench was a luxury I didn’t think I wanted or needed. Fun fact: you don’t actually need a seat in your shower.
But oh my days it’s made everything better. Got down on one knee scrubbing some particularly troublesome grout last Sunday and about had a heart attack from how relaxing it was leaning there with the body jets blasting me out back. Got them tiled to match too so it didn’t look too “thrown in there as an afterthought.” Hidden storage was another thing I spent ages planning.
Those crappy suction-cup shelves that come with ‘standard’ shower trays? DON’T. Get yourself some recessed shelving built into the wall.
Got three at varying heights; one for daily stuff, one for “things I kind of use but not that often” and one just high enough to comfortably stash the handheld shower head when it’s not in use. Last but by no means least: invest in a decent shower screen. Obviously I gotFrameless glass 10mm thick throughout instead of the standard 6mm stuff they try and peddle you.
Took meages of looking at them both side-by-side to appreciate how much better the thicker stuff feels. Swings back and forth with a nice “thunk” rather than “ping” you get from normal glass, for one. Also don’t stain as easily and seems way harder to break.
Underfloor heating was the final useless luxury I threw in. Seemed crazy spending over £400 on a heating system I’d basically only use for half an hour once a day. Still jumped at the chance when the fitter mentioned it.
There’s nothing worse than stepping out of the shower onto ice cubes first thing in the morning.
Trust me. So that was about it.
Took me around six weeks in the summer holidays to do. Prices tended to vary quite a bit depending on who I chose for the job but overall it probably cost £4,500. Damn worth it.
Never skip the shower again. Used to rush through mine like any other part of my morning routine. Ever since I redid it I’ve been lingering ages afterwards just soaking in how relaxing it feels.
Literally and metaphorically. Might sound mad but feeling like you’re swimming with the fishes instead of cramming yourself into a box every morning changes your entire outlook on life. Or, you know, your willingness to sit in puddles of your own filth all day.
That’ll certainly make teaching Year 8 about river ecosystems a little less rubbish.
