Shewee, Shewill Shewon't Shee??

Before I head off for the allotment, I feel the need to unburden myself (you lucky people!) For after blogging yesterday, and mentioning my impending research into the be-upstanding-and -discreet-lady-wee-wee-products that are available I thought, I've got twenty minutes, whilst I'm on-line I'll do a spot of research now. I mean, how long can it take?

A darn sight longer than twenty minutes, that's for sure!

Who'd have thought so many ladies were getting caught short in so many situations. Up mountains, in canoes, mid-long distance running, on the M25 in a carful of screaming children on their way back from Alton Towers/ Thorpe Park/ Chessington World of Adventure.

Not only can you buy a Shewee, you can also buy the excitingly quick-sounding 'Whiz Freedom', the practical-sounding 'TravelJohn Disposable Urinal', the scarily clinical-sounding-but-with-a-hint-of-a-modern-girl-on-rollerblades 'Go Girl Urination Device', and the says-what-it-does-and- sound-similar options of the 'Uriwelle' and the 'Uriwell'.

What to choose? How to choose? How to tell I was choosing the right one in the first place? P'raps a redundant flower pot would suffice after all?

Well, I discounted the Go Girl Urination Device immediately, because I already have a urination device - it's called a bladder. Besides, 'Go Girl' sounds like a brand of kitty-litter, which I suppose serves the same kind of purpose but the decision was made, albeit on tenuous grounds, and I was down by one on my list of potentials.

Next to go were the 'Uriwelle' and the 'Uriwell'. I felt they lacked comedy value and the pun was a bit too obvious and a bit too dull for my liking.

The TravelJohn Disposable Device was discarded for two reasons - one because it was disposable and two, because it shared a name with my ex-husband. (No, he wasn't called 'Travel'. Get a grip, will you?)

Which left me with the Whiz Freedom and the Shewee. And where things became complicated.

The Whiz Freedom can be purchased with something called a 'Freedom and Relief Bag.' Don't ask. I didn't. The thought was enough to put me off.

But the Shewee? Well, the Shewee comes in a choice of colours, from clear to vibrant (not that you'd want to draw attention to yourself rummaging in your undies having an up-standing tiddle), to one called 'Sandstorm' presumably to use if you are a lady soldier holed up in the desert somewhere and require the kind of camouflage not offered by the 'Vibrant Pink' option. You can buy an 'absorbent pad' called a Qeezee, which I felt might be a tad excess to my requirements, and an extension pipe - ditto. An extension pipe???? The mind boggles. (But I was brave enough to read why one would require an extension pipe and apparently it's to ensure adequate ground clearance when encumbered by thick ski-suits when, for example, one is on a trek to the Arctic.

The Shewee is available on prescription! It is recommended by NATO (????Did I read that right? I may have to re-visit the site and check). You can buy a pouch to keep it in. (I was disappointed it didn't have a string option so you could hang it around your neck and never run the risk of losing it - you know, like reading glasses on a chain.) And you can have it gift-wrapped!!!!!! Not sure why. Whilst I am happy to purchase my own Shewee, I'm not sure I'd want to receive one as a gift.

And there is a helpful guide on the website that takes you through the Shewee process with a list of handy hints involving pose and pressure, and suggests you have little practices in the privacy of your own home before striding out with confidence into the realms of the public loo (saves on the thigh tremouring hovering), the car (never fear the motorway gridlock again), the Artic expedition (you know how the cold makes you want to go), the jungle safari (squat on a snake or a lizard? Not me!) and spending a day at your loo-free allotment.

I was sold!

So I clicked the button. 'Vibrant Pink' for me, I think.