Alright, so you’re thinking about a shower tray, yeah? Blimey, don’t just pick the first one you see online—trust me, I learned that the hard way. Picture this: my mate Tom in his new flat in Hackney last spring. He went for this cheap acrylic thing, looked lovely in the photo. Two months in? Creaking like an old floorboard, and a faint whiff of damp lurking underneath. Nightmare.
Right, let’s chat materials. Acrylic’s the common one—lightweight, easy to fit, doesn’t smash your budget. Feels warm underfoot, too. But scratch it with a dropped shampoo bottle? Oh yeah, it’ll show. I remember helping my sister install one in her Birmingham place—took us an afternoon, dead simple. But she’s already got a faint grey scuff near the drain. Sigh.
Then there’s stone resin. Now we’re talking solid. Feels posh, looks it too—like one I saw in a boutique hotel in Edinburgh last autumn. Chunky, cool to the touch, stains? Wipes right off. But crikey, the weight! You’ll need proper floor support, maybe an extra pair of hands. And the price? Makes you gulp.
Tiled bases—ooh, custom charm! My ex’s Victorian terrace in Bristol had one, gorgeous mosaic style. But the grout lines? Breeding ground for mildew if you’re not obsessive with a squeegee. And if the base isn’t perfectly level… well, let’s just say puddles where you don’t want ’em.
Which brings me to installation—honestly, this is where most folks trip up. The floor must be level. I mean *really* level. Not “looks alright” level. We once tried to shim a tray in a rental in Manchester with bits of old tile… bad idea. Ended up with a wobbly tray and a slow leak into the ceiling below. Landlord was *not* amused.
Waterproofing? Don’t skimp on the tanking kit. That rubbery membrane stuff might seem overkill till you’re staring at a damp patch on your living room wall. And the waste outlet—get that alignment spot on. Ever heard a gurgling, sucking sound every time the shower drains? Haunting.
Oh, and size vs. door swing! Measured twice, yeah? My pal Lily bought a gorgeous 900mm square tray for her en-suite in Leeds, only to realise the door wouldn’t open past 45 degrees. Had to return it, pay restocking… what a faff.
At the end of the day, it’s not just about what it’s made of—it’s about your floor, your patience, and whether you’re ready to get down on your knees with a spirit level for an hour. Sometimes, spending a bit more upfront saves a whole lot of headache later. But hey, that’s just my two pence.
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