Lavatorial Memories.


Of the many public toilets I’ve visited in my life, two stick firmly in my mind: one was in a café in Cromer and the other was on the platform at Cambridge Station.

I'm sure you're desperate to hear all about them. Are we sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.

Exhibit A:


You're looking at the sum total of a North Norfolk cafeteria’s gents' toilet facilities.

The toilet and urinal are in alarmingly close proximity. Whoever fitted them was probably working to a prison motif. Whatever their intention, they’ve come up with a very pressured set-up; I wouldn’t be comfortable using one while someone else used the other.

Having both in the same room serves no purpose, particularly when you’re on your own. It’s not like halfway through a wee you’d say to yourself, “Actually, I think I’ll finish off over there”.

This sort of thing could only happen in Norfolk.

Exhibit B:

I haven’t used the loos at Cambridge Station for a while - I’ve just been too busy - so things may have changed, but they used to have entirely reflective cubicles. 



This was bizarrely also the case with the wall the urinals were attached to, which stoked up a little local controversy. See: I do my research.

Going to the toilet in what amounted to a Hall of Mirrors was pretty disturbing. It was like being confronted by your own personal scat movie, but on an epic scale. There’s nothing like watching an infinite number of pooing yous stretching on into oblivion; some sights you should never be confronted with, believe me.

 (Tomorrow, I’ll be less toilet-centric.)

Man in the Mirror.

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