Norwich's forgotten toilets.

(A quick show of hands, if you have a moment. I’m thinking of creating a physical newsletter. Like the old days. A newsletter that I can post through your door, once or twice a month. It would be like a Norwich-based scrapbook, I suppose, full of stories, pictures and other interesting stuff I come across. Would this be interesting to you?)

Alright?

I don’t know about you, but I’ve become one of those people who, when walking past the demolition of Anglia Square, can’t help but linger for a few extra minutes to watch some of the action.

The spray of the hose. The power of the claw. The heady scent of asbestos in the air. It’s an intoxicating (perhaps literally) combination.

Sure, seeing the cinema ripped in half was interesting. And yes, the multistory carpark’s deconstruction was impressively rapid. But as far as my fascination is concerned, those pale in comparison to the toilet that’s been revealed in the front row of buildings.

Who was the last person to use this toilet? Is it still functional? Why, with everything going on in that area, is my eye inevitably drawn back to it?

It got me thinking about some of Norwich’s forgotten toilets. The ones destroyed, demolished or, as is the case with some, still there, but hidden away forevermore. And thus, today’s newsletter was born.

The research for this newsletter took me on an unexpectedly intriguing, sometimes macabre, journey. From listed buildings to unearthed skeletons, this is the story of Norwich’s forgotten loos.

Behind the walls of the underpass.

There’s something disconcerting about an abandoned toilet. Maybe that’s because to abandon a toilet is to deny it of its only purpose - to be used.

It’s a thought worth pondering the next time you’re lucky enough to be walking through the underpass underneath St Stephen’s roundabout.

There was once a public toilet underneath there. It even had an attendant.

It was closed in the 1990s due to - and this is a common theme - antisocial behaviour. But the keyword here is “closed”. It was not demolished.

Which means, somewhere behind the graffiti-covered walls of the underpass, it still lurks, waiting to be useful once more. Hopefully, the attendant made it out.

A listed loo.

Norwich has a listed toilet. It may be one of the most unique toilets in the UK.

Built in the 1880s but moved to the site in 1919, Norwich’s 10-sided toilet is believed to be the only one of its kind in Europe and the oldest surviving concrete public toilet in the UK. In 1998, it was listed.

Do you know where it is yet? If not, this might help.

Found on St Crispin’s road, it’s the sort of building that you’ve probably seen, but not really seen before. The more you look at it, the more beautiful it becomes.

Notice the intricate pattern on the outside wall and the two-tiered glass roof.

Remarkably, thanks to the Norwich by the River Facebook group, I was also able to find some pictures of the inside - like this one:

If you’re interested, the full album is here.

Putting the ‘tomb’ in Tombland.

Most of you will remember the public toilets on Tombland. Located underground, they were demolished in 2020 after closing in 2012 due to - you guessed it - antisocial behaviour.

Here’s what they used to look like from the street:

During the demolition, workers found a skull, followed by the gruesome discovery of “around a dozen” skeletons.

These skeletons are believed to be from Kett’s rebellion, which took place in 1549. I’ll probably do a Kett’s rebellion newsletter soon, but if you want to learn about it with a pint in your hand, it’s also a big story on the Norwich Pub Tour.

Was the Tombland toilet a wormhole?

A former vicar also spoke of a time when he saw a panicked woman outside the toilets one evening. When he asked her how he could help, she explained that her husband had entered the toilets, but hadn’t come out.

The vicar went into the toilets, only to find that they were indeed empty.

Nobody could find him, until, that is, he strolled out a few minutes later.

When asked where he’d been, the husband said he had momentarily travelled through time. When he emerged from the toilets the first time, he said, his wife and his car had vanished, and Tombland was filled with silent, electric vehicles instead.

Confused, he walked back into the toilets, and when he emerged the second time, he was back in the present day.

As if the toilets weren’t fascinating enough, here we have irrefutable evidence that they were a portal into the future. It’s a shame they’ve been demolished.

Some honourable mentions.

There’s a public toilet outside St Andrews Hall that still has its urinals intact. It’s now used as a storage facility for gardening equipment, as illustrated by this picture, which looks a bit like Tracey Emin:

Like a lot of Norwich’s lost toilets, it’s far more beautiful on the outside:

I should also acknowledge the now-demolished toilets at the bottom of Grapes Hill:

And the underground toilets in the marketplace, which were allegedly filled in in 1976, meaning they’ve been down there - dormant - for 50 years exactly.

I’m indebted to John Atkins, whose YouTube video, “Lost Norwich - Spending a Penny”, was a delightful and helpful discovery.

I didn’t expect this topic to be as rich as it is, and I hope you’ve been pleasantly surprised by it, too. Perhaps you have your own toilet-based stories and memories. Provided they’re not too graphic for a Sunday morning, I’d love to hear them.

Until next time,

Secret Norwich