Mark Winter announces his appreciation for a lavatory with a view
Canal Street is not a ground that receives many accolades. Prior to Runcorn’s relegation in 1996, it was widely regarded by many pundits as the worst in the Vauxhall Conference. Not being a ground snob myself, this is not a view I share, seldom being aware of my surroundings once the game starts. Yet while Canal Street is surrounded by industrial Cheshire and much carping negativity, nothing has ever been mentioned of Runcorn’s outstanding contribution to stadium architecture – the open plan breeze block toilet.
Try as you might, it’s inevitable that, sooner or later, you’ll miss a goal while you’re availing yourself of the facilities. In non-League football, where bevvying in the company of the opposition is positively encouraged, you’re more susceptible to the ailment known as “ten past three bladder”. Thankfully, this is an area in which Runcorn have undertaken some research, resulting in an idea which, if universally copied, would eradicate this age-old problem.
Situated between the half way and eighteen yard lines, the BBT has been constructed with functional considerations of paramount importance. Built to a height of some five feet, with breeze blocks cemented together in the traditional fashion, the facility has an open sided entrance. At this point, Runcorn move away from the orthodox by the innovation of not attaching a roof in order that spectacular views of the Mersey, the ICI factory and, most importantly, the pitch are afforded. Inside, the ugliness of piping and porcelain have been dispensed with, opting instead for the more natural ‘soak away’ system favoured in a more elegant age.
Like any new innovation, the BBT has to be tried at least once. This, at least, seemed to be the view of each and every one of our morose little band of thrill seekers from Dover Athletic, some thirty in number, during our last visit to Runcorn last March. When doing so, it is compulsory to wave at your mates behind the goal and always in the regal, one-handed fashion. Equally de rigeur is a chorus of “We know what you’re doing” for the first five or six visitors until it becomes even too monotonous for the hard of thinking.
Only one of our number was less than singularly impressed; he’d slipped trying to peer over the top at a free kick. For my part, the experience of seeing Dover take the lead – a collectors’ item in itself – from the BBT vantage point was one I will not forget. Celebrating a goal whilst trying to maintain an outlandish measure of self control should be tried, if only to see how miserably you cope with what ought to be a straightforward biological task.
Whilst architecture seldom moves me, I must stress that the preservation of this monument to our footballing heritage is a matter of national importance. Recognition could well be the first step towards a preservation order and funding from the Millennium Commission. When I’m next in Cheshire, I hope to sign the visitors’ book, buy the T-shirt and hopefully some socks for emergency usage. I’ll also try some more of the local delicacy – giant, two-headed, Mersey cod in soggy batter, which will doubtless be the recipient of a culinary award from a magazine I’ve no real wish to read.
From WSC 122 April 1997. What was happening this month