Alright, so you're staring at that blank wall above your loo, thinking, 'Blimey, I could really use some space there.' I get it. My flat in Hackney – a proper Victorian conversion with all the charm and none of the cupboards – taught me that lesson the hard way. I remember one rainy Tuesday, my hairdryer and a stack of towels were having a proper war on the bathroom floor. Something had to give.
Now, an over-the-toilet shelf… it sounds simple, right? Just bung a bit of metal or wood up there. But hold your horses. The first one I bought, oh, from a big DIY chain near Old Street roundabout – looked smart online. Flat-pack, of course. Got it home, spent an hour wrestling with screws that seemed to have a mind of their own, finally got it up… and the whole thing leaned forward like the Tower of Pisa whenever I put a toilet roll on it! Turns out, the wall behind the cistern wasn't plasterboard like I thought, but some weird, crumbly old plaster. The fixings were useless. My heart sank. All that effort for a wobbly, nervous-looking shelf.
That's the thing nobody tells you – you've gotta be a bit of a wall detective. Give that area a good tap. Does it sound hollow and light? Probably plasterboard. Solid and dull? Might be brick or block. My disastrous first attempt was because I didn't listen to the wall's story. For plasterboard, you need those clever hollow-wall anchors – the metal ones that spring open behind the board. For solid walls, proper wall plugs and serious screws. Don't just use the rubbish little plastic ones that come in the box. I learned that from a lovely old bloke at the hardware shop on Broadway Market. He took one look at my sad face and said, "Love, you need the red ones. The heavy-duty ones. Trust me." He was right.
And measure, measure, then measure again! Not just the width, but the depth. You don't want to be banging your elbow on it every time you turn around. And the height! Leave a good gap above the toilet tank lid – you need to be able to lift that lid without performing a surgical operation. I'd say at least 10cm. My friend Sarah didn't, and now she has to do a weird sideways shuffle to get to her plumbing. It's a faff.
What you put on it matters too. It's not a library shelf. Think lightweight. Cotton wool balls, fancy hand soaps, a candle or two, maybe a small plant that likes steam (a fern, perhaps?). Not your collection of vintage ceramic hair rollers, or heavy glass perfume bottles. That's asking for trouble. I use mine for rolled-up towels – looks quite boutique-hotel, actually – and a little woven basket for bits and bobs.
Material-wise, I'm a sucker for natural bamboo or that coated metal that looks like brass. Avoid anything that'll rust in the steam. And for goodness' sake, make sure it's level. My partner once put one up and said, "It's fine, it's *character*." It wasn't. It made my toothbrush cup slide slowly, ominously, towards the edge every single day. Drove me barmy until I re-did it.
So yeah, it's a little project. But when you get it right? Pure bliss. No more clutter on the floor, everything to hand, and it makes the room feel taller, smarter. Just… listen to the wall first. And maybe buy better screws.
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