Remove toilet limescale using 17p hack with no scrubbing required
It may seem straightforward to keep a toilet clean by pouring bleach into the bowl, but this potent cleaner won't cut it if you spot discoloured stains on the porcelain. Limescale is a deposit from minerals in hard water, and it clings tightly to surfaces, meaning scrubbing alone won't shift it.
While bleach disinfects and can temporarily whiten limescale stains, it's ineffective at removing the build-up which will continue to harbour bacteria and make a toilet unhygienic.
However, Francesca, a cleaning guru and founder of Thoroughly Modern Grandma, has revealed that banishing limescale stains is a doddle as long as you use citric acid to clean your loo.
Francesca explained: "Once a week; if you don't have hard water this can be less often, just as and when required; give your loo a clean with Citric Acid to remove the mineral / limescale deposits."
Citric acid is a natural compound originally found in lemon juice and other citrus fruits, but a more potent version is available in the cleaning section of most supermarkets.
Limescale is an alkaline stain that only an acidic substance can tackle, and citric acid swiftly breaks it down from a surface, making it much easier to clean, reports the Express.
Not only is it far more effective, but citric acid is also non-toxic, so it's much safer for bathroom cleaning as you won't be inhaling any harmful chemical fumes.
It also tends to be quite affordable as at Tesco and ASDA a 250g box of citric acid costs £1.75. At B&Q citric acid costs £2.25 while at Lakeland a 50g tub costs only 49p.
How to remove toilet stains with citric acid
To begin, pour a jug of warm water from the tap down the toilet bowl, then add 400g of citric acid. Do not pour boiling hot water from the kettle into your toilet as you risk cracking the bowl.
Then, allow the solution to sit in your toilet as you need to give the citric acid solution time to break down the stains. Leave it for at least an hour but for best result leave it overnight.
When you are ready, gently scrub the toilet with a brush, flush it, and all the stains should be gone.
Limescale takes time to build up so if you live in a hard water area, particularly in the South East of England, then use citric acid on your toilet once a week to stop stains appearing in the future.
If you reside in a soft water area like Northern England, Scotland and Wales, then it is best to use citric acid roughly a month to keep limescale at bay.
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The National
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Or maybe that's just what we wanted to believe. On the Sunday morning, the blood vessels burst. He awoke with no feeling from the neck down. The room became a blur of doctors and nurses in full PPE gear. He was whipped away for an urgent CT scan. Papers had to be signed in case they had to operate. Perhaps to his brain. In a cramped room with a small table at its centre, a box of tissues placed on top, the gravity of the situation was spelled out in no uncertain terms. Luck, as we found, is a subjective notion. Having described the situation above, you may wonder how any parent, any child, finding themselves suddenly in the middle of it could be described as fortunate. But we were indeed lucky. The bleed had travelled down the spinal cord, not up towards the brain. The lesser of two unimaginable evils, yes, but in such a situation, you take what you can get. This would mean an operation of at least eight hours. Further procedures. Gruelling rehab. 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Growing pains, perhaps? No. Eventually, the symptoms were too severe for that. He had recently bumped his head on the pavement while playing football at his Gran's, could that be the cause? Several visits to the hospital and CT scans revealed nothing amiss. The shocks worsened and their duration lengthened, to the point he could no longer bear the pain, nor could we bear to witness his distress. He began to lose feeling down his right arm, and was struggling to drag his right leg behind him. A first socially distanced trip to Tesco to stock up on toilet paper ended with us having to abort the mission and carry him back to the car in tears. His, less well hidden than mine. He was admitted to Wishaw General Hospital. We spent three nights there, the only ones on an otherwise deserted ward, as his condition slowly worsened. A neurologist came to see him on the Friday and immediately instructed us to drive to Glasgow's Queen Elizabeth University Hospital for an MRI. 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Or maybe that's just what we wanted to believe. On the Sunday morning, the blood vessels burst. He awoke with no feeling from the neck down. The room became a blur of doctors and nurses in full PPE gear. He was whipped away for an urgent CT scan. Papers had to be signed in case they had to operate. Perhaps to his brain. In a cramped room with a small table at its centre, a box of tissues placed on top, the gravity of the situation was spelled out in no uncertain terms. Luck, as we found, is a subjective notion. Having described the situation above, you may wonder how any parent, any child, finding themselves suddenly in the middle of it could be described as fortunate. But we were indeed lucky. The bleed had travelled down the spinal cord, not up towards the brain. The lesser of two unimaginable evils, yes, but in such a situation, you take what you can get. This would mean an operation of at least eight hours. Further procedures. Gruelling rehab. Months, and indeed, years of uncertainty over his future. Still, there are no clear answers to how that will look. In the immediate aftermath, we had no way of addressing the concerns on his mind, of which, there were chiefly two. Will I play football again? Will I be able to go to the football with my mates again? Time will tell, pal. What else could be said? But in time, we were able at least to answer one of those questions. As news of his illness spread, Motherwell reached out. An area would be reserved for him not in the disabled shelter at the far end of the Main Stand away from his friends, but in the Davie Cooper Stand, in amongst them, where he had always watched his team. As a family, we will be eternally grateful to the club, and in particular, to stadium manager Robert Park, for making this possible. I can't begin to adequately explain what that meant to him in that moment, and what it has meant since. (Image: Graeme McGarry) Again, we were lucky. Others in similar situations may not be, though, and that is why I am telling this story here, and why Herald Sport is running this campaign on disabled facilities in Scottish stadiums today. We want to highlight the great work that is going on in Scottish football, the admirable investment from many clubs in this area, and above all, the unsung heroes like Robert, or Alexis Dobbin at Celtic, or John Speirs at Rangers and the countless others who go above and beyond to make going to the match as inclusive an experience as possible. However, we also want to highlight areas where improvements could be made. As I said, and this goes for me too, it is only really when you or a loved one is thrust into such a situation that you give these issues much of a second thought. It is only now, as my son drags me to grounds up and down the country, that I can truly appreciate the hurdles that disabled football fans face just to watch their team. Unfailingly, staff bend over backwards. But the standard of facilities is inconsistent from ground to ground, and often are far from acceptable, whether that is due to a lack of protection from the elements, poor sight lines, or inadequate toilet facilities. In most cases, particularly at away grounds, there is no choice of where to sit. You take what you get, whether that is a shelter down the front far away from the rest of the support, or even in amongst opposition fans. Often, disabled fans have no access to food kiosks. Helpful staff at most venues take orders and deliver refreshments to the disabled section at half time, but there is no opportunity to peruse the menu, or independently go for something to eat or drink whenever you might actually feel like it. Even simple things like buying tickets is a more complicated process than it would be for your average fan, with online purchasing almost always unavailable. Emails have to be sent, phone calls have to be made. Some of these issues are smaller than others, but they all add up to a feeling that disabled supporters are different, and separate from the rest of the crowd. Hopefully, these articles will help to share best practice between clubs, highlight areas where they can improve, where they may be able to source financial help to do so, and help deliver a more inclusive experience that makes every supporter feel a part of their fanbase and their community. We were lucky. But can we establish a standard, so that a disabled fan's experience doesn't come down to fortune, or the good grace of a club employee? Take it from someone who sees what it means - it would absolutely be worth it.
Daily Mirror
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'Best' tomato growing hack will make your fruit 'full of flavour' using 1 item
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