I recently watched some old “Bewitched” episodes. Do you remember dotty Aunt Clara? She collected doorknobs. I had to laugh a bit, as I have a similar odd-ball collection. I collect bars of soap.

When I stay at hotel or a B&B, it find it a waste I am given a bar of soap that will be used only a few times. It is regrettable a barely used cake going to waste. So, I dry off the used soap, and wrap it in some tissue, and take it home with me.  At any given time (depending on my travel frequency) I have 5-6 of these lean off-white nondescript soap bars. They make me feel virtuous and thrifty.

In contrast, I am crackers for gaily coloured bars of ‘specialty’ soaps. The come with names like “Sandalwood” or “Rainbow” or “Lilac Field”.

When feeling whimsical, I will get out one of these festive bars. They make showering a sensual delight.

A few years ago I indulged in liquid soap. I had a different bottle for each month. They were roughly coordinated to the season.  December had a piney scent; October had cinnamon spice, etc.

Someone likes Irish Spring, which makes me break out into a rash.

Soap is one of life’s little pleasures.

It may be mawkish, but a bar of soap – whether ‘saved’ or ‘fabulous’ – makes life a bit more nice and my morning scrub-ups jolly good fun.