Monochrome photogaph with a cast iron circular struture in the foreground with an office block behind, with the words Glass Coventry over the door
Cast iron urinal on the roundabout at Lower Ford Street Photo: Coventry Digital

Do you remember the old gents’ toilet in Lower Ford Street? CovSoc founder member Paul Maddocks certainly does. Paul writes….

It was one of those Coventry landmarks that probably attracted little attention at the time, but which has remained in the memories of people who knew the city before redevelopment changed so much of it.

The circular urinal stood in Lower Ford Street, close to the junction with Alma Street and Raglan Street. It was almost like a traffic island in the middle of the road – and, given the number of pubs in the area, it must have been a welcome sight for many men making their way home after an evening in the city.

A photograph reproduced by Coventry Pub History describes it rather wonderfully as the “infamous, stinky, circular urinal”. Others remember it simply as part of the street scene. One contributor to the Historic Coventry Forum recalled the urinal from childhood and said it “always fascinated” them.

The end of the urinal

The old toilet disappeared around 1969.

I was told that its removal was not exactly a delicate operation. The cast-iron sections had been held together with lugs and bolts which had rusted solid. Rather than being carefully dismantled, a sledgehammer was apparently used to break them apart. Cast iron, being relatively brittle, was not particularly well suited to this treatment.

But that wasn’t quite the end of the story.

The cast-iron panels were taken to the Herbert Art Gallery and Museum’s industrial store at Falkland Close, on the Tile Hill industrial estate. They were left outside rather than being put inside the store – apparently because they still carried something of the smell associated with their former life as a public urinal.

And there they remained.

The story goes that the panels were still there in 1976, when Britain experienced one of its hottest summers for many years. The heat apparently made the smell considerably worse, leading to complaints from neighbouring businesses and museum staff. The material was eventually regarded as a health risk and a nuisance and a decision was made to dispose of it.

There had apparently been some thought of recording the structure before this happened – perhaps by taking measurements, making a pattern or even taking a cast of the panels. But there was no willingness to spend the money required, and so another small piece of Coventry’s history disappeared.

It is a particularly frustrating story because, had the panels survived, the urinal might today have been regarded as an interesting example of Victorian or early twentieth-century street furniture – an everyday object that told us something about how the city once worked.

Do we need more public toilets?

The story also raises a rather more contemporary question.

Public toilets have gradually disappeared from our towns and cities. At the time, their removal may have seemed entirely understandable: they could become dirty, unpleasant and difficult to maintain. But the alternative is that people have to rely on toilets in shops, cafés, pubs and other private premises.

That can be a particular problem for older people, disabled people, families with young children and anyone who needs more frequent access to toilet facilities.

The scale of the problem has recently been highlighted by the Royal Society for Public Health. Its research, published in April 2026, found that there are now 15,481 people for every public toilet in England. The comparable figures are 8,500 people per toilet in Scotland and 6,748 in Wales. The number of public toilets in England has fallen by 14 per cent since 2016.

RSPH describes the resulting areas as “public toilet deserts” and points to consequences including people going out less often, restricting their fluid intake and increased public urination. It also argues that inadequate provision can discourage people from spending time in public spaces.

Coventry is certainly not immune from the problem. A 2025 Freedom of Information response from Coventry City Council identified only one public toilet facility maintained by the council – at the entrance to the Central Library in Smithford Way. There are, of course, toilets available in other city-centre buildings and businesses.

A different approach

Photos courtesy of Dezeen

Perhaps public toilets don’t have to be the grim, rather forbidding structures that many of us remember.

A good example can be found in Maida Hill in North Paddington, London, where architects Studio Weave have designed a small public toilet pavilion beside the local market. It contains three toilets, including a wheelchair-accessible facility, and has been designed as an attractive part of the public square rather than something to be hidden away.

The building uses reclaimed stone from a demolished office building in London’s Broadgate and was designed as part of the wider improvement of Maida Hill Market.

It demonstrates that a public toilet can be treated as part of the civic environment – something that is designed to be safe, accessible and welcoming rather than an afterthought.

That seems particularly relevant to Coventry.

The city is keen to attract visitors and tourists and is investing heavily in the regeneration of its city centre. City Centre South, for example, is planned to include new homes, shops, restaurants, a hotel, leisure facilities and substantial new public realm. The council describes the scheme as creating a new focal point for Coventry’s communities, with inviting public realm and accessible events space at its heart.

But, as far as the current City Centre South proposals show, there are no dedicated public toilets planned within the development.

That seems like a missed opportunity.

If we are designing new public spaces in Coventry for the next generation, perhaps we should be thinking about the things people actually need when they use them.

The humble public toilet may not be glamorous. It certainly wasn’t glamorous in Lower Ford Street.

But perhaps it was rather more important than we realised.