Strange as it may seem, I think I actually used a London public toilet at some point in my life. Before you avert your eyes from this column, shuddering with disgust, I should offer the excuse that I must have been very young . It is one of those memories that is more a sensation than a clear picture: dirt, decay, disorder and a pervading stench.
But it is proof there was once a time when people used to use public toilets for something other than drug abuse and cottaging. Indeed, there must once have been a time when a suburban mother was perfectly happy to take a small child into one, when a crisis occurred on a shopping trip.
Since that day, though, I am proud to say the only one of London’s public toilets I have ever entered is the one in Shepherd’s Bush that has become the rather lovely bar/club Ginglik. I pass them occasionally, and my assumption is always that by now their interiors must be unbelievably squalid, a little bit of the 19th century - open sewers, scurrying rats and gin-swilling vagabonds, you get the picture - transplanted wholesale into the 21st century.
And now I read in Time Out that there are campaigns afoot to rescue these repulsive Victorian relics. Surely one of the most misguided conservationists, along with the weirdos determined to save the hideous rows of tenements that are destined to be bull-dozed to make way for our shiny new Olympic village (which will be ready around 2015, if the Wembley fiasco is anything to go by).
It is part and parcel of being a Londoner, this irrational affection for your city’s least salubrious aspects. Ask us what our favourite thing in this city is, and the answer will be the grim modernist buildings of the South Bank, the sordid alleys of Soho, or Camden Market, where I recently saw a rat the size of a terrier eating a smaller rat. Nobody will ever mention, say, Buckingham Palace, the Royal Opera House or St Paul’s Cathedral.
Why is it that we find these grimy spots so enticing when we are surrounded by a millennium of the greatest architectural projects in the world? It’s something to do, I think, with every Londoner’s need to be an insider, to prove that they’re closer to this city than the tourist hordes who march from ancient beauty-spot to ancient beauty-spot. It’s a sign of our love for our home, and symbolises our membership of the London tribe. So although I will not miss those toilets and tenements, I can salute the dedication of those trying to save them. |