I was recently in Japan. High on my list of its many wonders are its loos. It’s not just the range of services they offer that I was impressed by, though they are amazing. They provide spray to both front and rear (with illustrations to indicate location), warm air to dry both regions, “privacy” (the sound of running water in case somebody might actually hear you peeing) and “wand clean” (which I never fathomed and didn’t dare try). How they must pity uncared-for western bottoms!
But what delighted me most about Japanese lavatories was their abundance. No train or bus station, no park or public garden is too modest for generous provision of sparklingly clean public conveniences. The weakest of bladders need never fear being caught short.
The contrast with Britain is shaming. This is the country that gave mankind the flushing loo and once led the world in sewerage. Yet now the British public toilet is going down the pan. About a third have closed in the past century. Some have become tiny bars — very amusing, no doubt, but the need for a drink is never quite as urgent as the need for a pee.
The reason for this public inconvenience is that councils are no longer flush with cash, and at £60,000 to £80,000 a year, public loos are expensive to maintain. But for pregnant women, people suffering from incontinence and all of us in the course of a long Christmas shopping trip, they are a necessity, not a luxury. It’s embarrassing to be forced to ask apologetically in restaurants, as I was last weekend, especially when you’re turned down.
Happily, relief may be on its way. The government has announced a £5 billion “Pride in Place” fund to improve local communities. In recognition of the urgency of the problem, public loos have been designated a “pre-approved intervention”, which basically means that councils don’t have to get some poor soul to write up a business case for each and every toilet, as they must for anything else they want money for. At the wave of a hand, funds will flow. I can’t wait.
Being picky
Groups of volunteers picking up litter are a regular sight in Tokyo. It can’t be a very rewarding activity, for there is scarcely any rubbish in the city. They probe municipal flowerbeds hopefully with their litter-picking sticks in a desperate search for scraps, but the bags they carry never hold more than a few desultory bits of paper. What fun they would have in London!
Foreigners tend to regard Tokyo’s cleanliness as innately Japanese but a resident told me that decades ago, the city used to be quite dirty. Then behaviour changed.
Something like that happened in Britain with dog poo. Thirty years ago the streets were filthy with the stuff and now it is a merciful rarity. The lesson from that is that progress isn’t natural or inevitable. Burnley council triggered the change, by prosecuting people who were allowing their dogs to foul a public square. A woman went to jail, other councils followed and the nation’s parks were transformed. I suspect that the authorities need to come down similarly hard on littering if our streets are to be as pristine as Tokyo’s. I wish they would.
Silence is golden oldies
Japan is very quiet. I found it soothing at first; less so once I realised that it was only partly because of the reserved behaviour of its citizens. It’s also because Japanese society is ageing so fast. In this country, the median age is 40; in Japan, it is 50. Gaggles of giggling teenagers and crying babies are rare. So few are being born that the population is shrinking by about 800,000 a year. In villages, you see scarcely anybody, and houses are being left to rot.
On my return, I found the shrieks of children and the shouts of youths to be cheering rather than irritating. For a few days, anyway.