All pics are click-through enlargeableTM.
It's a fountained, green and incredibly spacious Elysian Field, where "Dawn" holds sway and where Ebenezer the Refined held out such grand hopes and designs. In fact so much so that half the world's cities are based upon this Utopian model. 'Tis true, 'tis true!
A view east to the Howard Centre, a devoted archetypal 1990s "upgrade" on Sir Eb's original idealistic scheme in the Formica of a hideously materialistic and impersonal piped crapola muzak shopping mall.
Right alongside the once noble "Welwyn Garden peoples' store" ( now masquerading as the eternal profit-mongering John Lewis department store ), we discover a traffic island par excellence, circumnavigated day long by countless cars and white vans, each with their obligatory.. er, man. A direct underpass thereunder leading us to a promised land .. - a subterranean bunker of blessed innards-discharge relief.
From a truly treacherous stance on the roundabout, we can espy the vertiginous roof of the bog, a safe cat-free nesting place for the area's birdies I would have thought. This toilet seems to be offsetting its carbon footprint very well indeed, which is just as well because the interior sports a large number of strip lights unnecessarily switched on all day long, there being more than adequate natural light streaming in through the top windows.
Down down we go, to inspect Sir Ebenezer's proletariat vision of bog posterity.
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Heading out into the bog garden area, we pass a couple of neat tags upon the myriad of shiny tiles comprising the walls of the underpass.
A slight Kandinsky influence with the latter affair, one feels.
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Emerging back into daylight we are confronted with the Ladies side of what for all intents and purposes appears to be a public air raid shelter, and sets the bog blogger's mind boggling about whether this is in fact the original Ebenezer design. Its location however, seems truly inspired for a man of vision, for a toilet is, essentially, a hole in the ground is it not.
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Traversing around to what is obviously the Gents side of the block ( click/sigh ) and admiring the well kept-up garden features along the way, we enter the bog up a wheelchair access ramp...
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Well here's a surprise, never seen this before. I wonder what kind of lady would apply to become a Gents' toilet attendant? We are soon to discover it's a kind of a kind animal lover kind.... hmm, figures.
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Her dainty place of refuge inside this theme-in-cream male domain of a cavernous loo takes the form of a corner broom cupboard of an "office", to which she has added the homely touches of colour-coded slats, imitation plastic stick-on frill drape and a couple of light-humoured window displays. Remember all pix are click-through enlargeableTM
Turning and gazing up the length of the establishment, a neat line-up of seven curvacious urinals, protected by chunky porcelain modesty screens each, leads the eye through to the set of traps on the left hand side. The walls and floor of the bog incidently are a continuation on the theme of the underpass - being copiously tiled throughout.
The ceiling area, by way of contrast, and as you may have noted in the entrance pic, is jazzed with large cream paint flakes which dangle and sway in the draught like bizarre stalagtites.
Another pic is taken looking back, before the cubicle inspection commences...
A line-up of five traps, with the sixth and end one kept locked (presumably for mop bucket etc storage purposes) seem nominal enough. We take a peep into the first three, however the sight of the first of all is enough to dissuade one from sallying forth to sample a sit, scattered as it is with unclassified debris remnants of former useage. Definitely both unkempt and unkept-up.
The previous patrons of the establishment typically having paid scant attention to the desires of the lady of the house...
However, a curious mix & match of black and white lid/seat and seat missing combinations brings a smile....
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Oh yeah, there I am in the mirror, Mr carry bag man.
The irregular line of porcelain sinks set into white plastic marble attempt at a modicum of taste, is seriously betrayed by the unpainted makeshift chipboard supporting panels. Ebenezer would surely be turning in his town-planning mauseleum.
We turn and snap the pair of dinky hand dryers. Great way to pass (most of) the time of day; waiting for handies to dry under these toys! A token wooden coat hook rack is loosely screwed to the wall on the right and the waste bin fending off bad Feng Shui on the corner pillar is typically English - cheap, tasteless and eminently forgetful tat. The hand wash basins were chunky clean functional and the hot tap did exactly what it said on the handle.
Nice sentiment on display from "Mrs Gents" - and one that I also espoused and tried to live out for many a long year before finally having to admit to myself that, barring exceptions, the more you try to befriend and help others, the more they take you for granted and quite often you are not even proffered the courtesy of a "thank you".
" One thing you can say about mankind - and that is that man is not very kind"
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Snapping out of this toilet melancholia, I exit the joint smartish like, as I had been chancing my arm by indecently exposing the digicam within for too long - dangling it about for about 8 long minutes in fact and amazingly without interruption.
So its back out into the sunken garden traffic island and up the steps the other side for a spot of pre-Christmas shopping in the stinking posh Waitrose opposite.
On reaching home and viewing the above pics I was immediately struck by two anomalies tunneling up from the subconscious.
Firstly the lack of patrons frequenting this town-centre facility which can only be attributable to the absence of public signeage pointing the direction any further away than the roundabout and its immediate locale ( hence the title Underpass Oversight ).
Secondly, I had obviously overlooked some metallic appendages jutting from the tiles between the portly porcelain urinals. Curious as to what they may be ( not flush handles surely?), I waited for another chance to re-visit Toilet 21 to snap these little mysteries close-up - and here's the result....
How about that, another bogblog first! Now I am certain this is the original Ebenezer Howard building, for only he could have been so public-spirited as to think of the finer detail of providing a dinky ash tray upon which to rest ones half-smoked coffin nail whilst passing water, thereby probably having spared quite a few gents over the years the unspeakable agony of burning their privates whilst unzipping and extracting ( definitely a two-handed job for us guys that BTW, ladies 
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Three cheers for old Ebenezer and his grand ideals!!!
Putting ordinary people before yet more profits for the richTM.
Toilet 21 Bog ratings.
Cleanliness ... Generally 7/10 but let down by a paltry 2/10 for the cubicles, to which "Mrs Gents" seems to have developed an cleansing aversion.
Quietness of use. ..9/10 excellent chance of completing your sit without interruption.
Interest 8/10 including the quirky features/attendant
Locality 8/10 .. easy access in sunny Hertfordshire and a town centre well worth visiting.
