Tag: School

It was at primary school that going to the toilet became a big issue for me. I had never used one of the cubicles before, but the moment came when home time was too far away for me to wait. I had to go. I must have been breaking new ground in my year group because the moment I shut the door my classmates were clambering up to look down, and getting down to look up, over and under the partitions, to see what I was up to. I don’t know whether this happened at all schools, or, indeed, whether it happened to anyone but me at my school, but I inadvertently caused a sensation. Word went out in the playground: “Eggy’s having a poo!” Eggy was my nickname. Long story; let’s not go there.

More pupils streamed into the toilets to climb and crawl to a vantage point. Needless to say, I couldn’t go. I gave up and the crowd dispersed. I told the teacher what had happened – Mrs Dalman, I believe. She said the other children were very naughty and it wouldn’t do. Back to the toilet I went, escorted by Mrs Dalman who, to my dismay, stood guard outside the cubicle door while I struggled within. It was no good; again I couldn’t go. I told her I had, but I hadn’t.

Ever since this excruciating incident, the whole business of doing my business has been wreathed in shame and embarrassment. To this day I can’t perform unless conditions are optimal. I need to be out of sight and sound of everyone. For me, communal toilets of any kind have been, literally, no-go areas. I’m appalled by noises emanating from other cubicles. And even more appalled that anyone should have to hear mine. On the caravan site where I spent my childhood holidays, I would loiter outside the toilet block at a quiet time of day until I was sure I would be alone.

Workplace toilet facilities have long been a challenge. On my first day of work experience at the BBC in 1992, I found myself in a cubicle next to someone making an almighty racket. I abandoned ship, but as I came out, my noisy neighbour emerged too. I instantly recognised him as a legend of television journalism who I had long admired. On reflection, this incident worked to my advantage as the BBC newsroom suddenly felt less intimidating; these people were human after all.

Happily, certain improvements in communal toilet design have made my life easier. Importantly, the kind of cubicle partitions with six-inch gaps at the bottom seem to be dying out. The odd glimpse of a neighbour’s shoe or dropped trouser has long been a “game over” moment for me. At the BBC at least, the partitions are now solid. Much better. However, there is one more thing they could do to help me out. The silence in these places is needlessly deafening. Why so quiet, when it throws every peep or parp into sharp, trumpeting relief? In lifts, music is often played for our listening pleasure. I pray they will soon see fit to pipe radio into every communal lavatory too, so providing users with a modesty-sparing degree of audio cover. My hope is that this will become the norm as we move inexorably towards gender-neutral toilets in which privacy, presumably, will be paramount. Toilets could then be labelled not by gender, but by the genre of musical accompaniment available within. Opera? Jazz? Metal? Rap? I wonder what will work best. Who knows, some might still choose silence. Each to their own.