Remember the days when the only problem with needing the loo when travelling was finding one, even if it was just a hole in the ground? I miss those days!

Busting for the toilet I dash into the ladies at Barcelona international airport. Phew, just made it. Slam the door shut, look at the loo and it flushes. I haven’t even sat down yet! I sit down and the damn thing carries on flushing, completely unrepentant, until of course I actually need it to, at which point it blank refuses to do so.

Irate I make my way to the basin to wash my hands. Soap in abundance is easily procured, but water is a different matter. The automatic tap only produces a slow, grudging trickle. In sheer irritation I frantically wave my hands up and down, left and right, which swiftly produces a flash flood, spraying me from head to toe – something that immediately goes back to a trickle whenever I try to approach the water with my soap-dripping hands.

In desperation I reach for a paper towel to at least get rid of the soap. No such luck. The automatic dryer doesn’t even as much as wheeze or splutter at my attempts to get it revving and I eventually give up and traipse off, defeated by the modern loo in all its glory.

Holes in the ground? They bring a tear of nostalgia to the eye.