From where I live I have a nice view of my local church, St Giles Without Cripplegate. This image gives a good impression of where this wonderful old church is located within the strikingly modern Barbican Estate …
I am always pleased to come across old images of the area, particularly those taken in the three decades after the Second World War. I am indebted to the author of the splendid London Inheritance blog for this view from 1947 showing the devastated landscape …
The building on the left is the Red Cross Street Fire Station.
Another image showing nearby destruction …
The following photo taken in the days following the raid on the 29th December 1940 shows the damage to the interior of the church …
Since the walls and tower survived a service was possible with the parishioners able to look straight up to the sky …
The inside of the church today. I was fortunate enough to visit when a lady (on the left in the picture) was practising beautifully on the organ …
Here’s an aerial view from the 1960s and the church now has a roof. The more modern looking building on the right is Roman House which has recently been converted into apartments …
In this 21st century aerial image you can just make out the church’s green roof …
Some monuments remain from the old pre-Blitz building.
There is this touching memorial to a favourite character of mine, Sir William Staines …
And here is the man himself …
Staines had extremely humble beginnings working as a bricklayer’s labourer, but eventually accumulated a large fortune which he generously used for philanthropic purposes. He seemed to recall his own earlier penury when he ensured that the houses he built for ‘aged and indigent’ folk would have ‘nothing to distinguish them from the other dwelling-houses … to denote the poverty of the inhabitant’.
British History Online records an encounter he had with the notorious John Wilkes who referred rather rudely to Staines’ original occupation …
The alderman was an illiterate man, and was a sort of butt amongst his brethren. At one of the Old Bailey dinners, after a sumptuous repast of turtle and venison, Sir William was eating a great quantity of butter with his cheese. “Why, brother,” said Wilkes, “you lay it on witha trowel!”
Incidentally, Wilkes is also commemorated in the the City in Fetter Lane where a striking statue of him honestly portrays his famous squint …
John Milton (1608-1674), the poet and republican, is perhaps the most famous former parishioner of St Giles and his statue stands by the south wall of the church …
It’s made of metal, which means it is one of the few memorials in the church that survived the bombing in the Second World War. It is the work of the sculptor Horace Montford (c1840-1919) and is based on a bust made in about 1654.
He used to be outside and was blasted off his plinth during the bombing …
There is also this commemorative plaque …
And a bust which clearly indicates his later-life blindness …
Milton was buried in the church next to his father, however he was not allowed to rest in peace.
‘A sacrilegious desecration of his remains, we regret to record, took place in 1790 … The disinterment had been agreed upon after a merry meeting at the house of Mr. Fountain, overseer, in Beech Lane, the night before, Mr. Cole, another overseer, and the journeyman of Mr. Ascough, the parish clerk, who was a coffin-maker, assisting’.
Having identified where they thought Milton’s grave was, they dug down almost six feet, found a coffin, and removed the lid. The report goes on …
‘Upon first view of the body, it appeared perfect, and completely enveloped in the shroud, which was of many folds, the ribs standing up regularly. When they disturbed the shroud the ribs fell. Mr. Fountain confessed that he pulled hard at the teeth, which resisted, until some one hit them a knock with a stone, when they easily came out. There were but five in the upper jaw, which were all perfectly sound and white, and all taken by Mr. Fountain. He gave one of them to Mr. Laming. Mr. Laming also took one from the lower jaw; and Mr. Taylor took two from it. Mr. Laming said that he had at one time a mind to bring away the whole under-jaw with the teeth in it; he had it in his hand, but tossed it back again’.
As if that wasn’t undignified enough,’Elizabeth Grant, the gravedigger … now took possession of the coffin; and, as its situation under the common councilmen’s pew would not admit of its being seen without the help of a candle, she kept a tinder-box in the excavation, and, when any persons came, struck a light, and conducted them under the pew; where, by reversing the part of the lid which had been cut, she exhibited the body, at first for sixpence and afterwards for threepence and twopence each person’.
The body was reburied but rumours spread that it wasn’t Milton in the coffin, but a woman. So Milton was dug up a second time and the surgeon in attendance examined the bones — what were left of them — and pronounced them to be masculine. Only then was Milton, at last, allowed to rest only to be permanently obliterated in the bombing.
Notwithstanding the generous memorials to the great and the good, I was captivated by this modest plaque on the south wall …
An attorney at law who obviously believed in brevity. No Latin exhortation of his virtues, no figures of a grieving widow and children, only the important facts and the bald, concluding statement ‘That is all’.
There is a lot more to see at St Giles such as modern stained glass …
And intriguing inscriptions, both inside …
And outside …
But for the moment ‘that is all!’
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I’m having a few IT problems at the moment so I hope you won’t mind if this week I re-publish a previous blog. It’s about my visit to St Botolph’s and I referred to it in my 300th edition last week.
It starts with an image of this distinguished gentleman …
Robert Dow was a Master of the Merchant Taylors and during his life gave away a substantial sum to various charitable establishments. The value of his donations and those receiving the money are listed on his monument …
He lived to the great age of 90 and died in 1612. I love the expression that, when he eventually passed away, he was ‘full of days’. The skull his hands are resting on may be to remind us that we too are mortal, even as we relax and enjoy his company and read of his generosity.
Nearby is an eyecatching brown and cream alabaster monument. It commemorates Lord Darcy and Sir Nicholas Carew, both beheaded on Tower Hill for high treason against Henry VIII in 1537 and 1539 respectively …
The figure is a corpse resting on a bierwith the head thrown back dramatically.
The inscription reads …
Here lyeth Thomas Lord Darcy of the North, and some time of the Order of the Garter. Sir Nicholas Carew Knt. sometime of the Garter. Lady Elizabeth Carew, Daughter to Sir Francis Brian, Knt. And Sir Arthur Darcy Knt. younger Son to the abovenamed Lord Darcy. And Lady Mary his dear Wife, Daughter to Sir Nicholas Carew Knt. who had ten Sons and five Daughters. Here lye Charles, William and Philip, Mary and Ursula, Sons and Daughters to the said Sir Arthur, and Mary his Wife; whose Souls God take to his infinite Mercy. Amen.
More delights await you further inside the church.
This beautifully carved wooden panel depicts King David along with musical instruments …
It was created between 1713 and 1715 to grace the front of an organ gallery in the church of St Mary Matfelon, Whitechapel. When the church was destroyed by bombing on the 27th December 1940 the carving was saved and later restored …
In 1676 Thomas Whiting gifted the organ for the benefit of the ‘hole parrish’ …
The organ was originally built for his house, which must have been a substantial property to say the least.
There is a fine 18th century sword rest …
Sword rests (or stands) were originally installed in City churches to hold the Lord Mayor’s sword of state when he used to visit a different church every Sunday, a practice that ceased in 1888 as congregations fell and people moved to the suburbs.
There is a long eulogy to Benjamin Pratt inscribed on a hanging drape …
He affected to end his days in celibacy and departed this life on the 3rd day of May 1715 … he had just arriv’d at the prime of his age and was then taken from his labours to receive an exceeding great reward.
And now a memorial that positively demanded more research, an inventor who died ‘in want’ in 1831 and was finally commemorated by a Lord Mayor in 1903 …
The full story is fascinating and I can’t do it justice in this short blog. To read more go to the London Inheritance blog which you can find here.
A number of past Lord Mayors are commemorated in stained glass …
Now leave the church and walk around to the north side where a few gravestones have been placed against the wall.
This one contains an intriguing and poignant inscription to a son and his father …
It’s now much worn but, luckily for me, an audit of churchyard inscriptions was made in 1910 and this is what the tombstone tells us …
Sacred to the memory of
THOMAS EBRALL Citizen and Corn Merchant, shot by a Life Guardsman unknown, in the shop of Mr Goodeve, Fenchurch Street, 9 April, 1810 died 17th same month, in his 24th year.
THOMAS EBRALL, his father, died from his loss, 23 August, 1810, aged 48.
‘Died from his loss’, how sad. I have tried to find out more about the incident that resulted in young Mr Ebrall’s death but no luck so far.
The man who conducted the inscription audit at the turn of the last century was one Percy C. Rushen who noticed how they were slowly disappearing due to ‘atmospheric elements’ or ‘sacriligist’ vandalism. Here is a link to his book – my hero!
There is also an unusual water feature resembling a chest tomb …
Now cross the road to the Minories and look back …
The following drawing from 1740 by its builder, George Dance the Elder, shows the church looking exactly the same as it does today …
Incidentally, the church had a narrow escape during the Blitz when a bomb fell straight through the roof but failed to explode. The Blitz was an extraordinary period for the Rector of the day, who slept in the Crypt, surrounded by coffins, and climbed onto the roof during air raids to put out incendiary fires.
I found myself in Smithfield last weekend and thought it might be nice to write again about some of the local pubs.
This is the Fox & Anchor in Charterhouse Street …
I’m indebted to the HiddenLondon websitefor the following background information.
The pub’s present, four-storey incarnation was built in 1897–9. The architect was Lambeth-born Latham A Withall, who trained and practised in Australia before returning to Britain in the late 1880s. The Art Nouveau tiling and grotesques that grace the pub’s facade were the work of William J Neatby, who at that time was head of the architectural department at Doulton and Company of Lambeth, where all the ceramics were produced …
The street across the road has an odd name …
There is, of course, a blogger who writes about street names and they have established that it’s named after a pub that was demolished to make way for the market. They have consulted the Dictionary of Pub Names, which reckons that a landlord of the tavern was called Fox. Furthermore, his wife made headdresses that incorporated the fashionable ‘topknot’ of the time. Therefore, Fox and Knot. Here’s a link to the Street Names blogger.
The Smithfield Tavern has been renamed but has retained its rather attractive old pub sign …
A nod to the market … golden bulls’ heads …
This plaque intrigued me …
But I couldn’t find out any more about J. H. Schrader.
The Old Red Cow has an impressive exterior even on a miserable dull day …
It boasts of its connection to two very famous characters of the mid-20th century world of entertainment – Lord Bernard Miles and Sir Peter Ustinov …
In a walking guide to City pubs published in 1973 the authors Richards and Curl wrote : ‘The origin of this pub name is simplicity itself … As old red cows are a rare sight in this country, it follows that their milk (beer) is of great value.’
The Sutton Arms is another fine Victorian building …
The Rising Sun lives just across the road from the magnificent St Bartholomew the Great church …
You can also see its conveniently close location relative to the market at the end of the alley …
This is The Hope in Cowcross Street …
It is still recognisable from the description back in 1973 – ‘an unusual front, with bow window and large fanlight over a granite plinth’ …
And Richards and Curl also celebrated the ‘encaustic tiles in the corridor and entrance’ …
The entrance to the Sutton Arms has similar decoration …
Two other pubs of interest are The Bishop’s Finger and the Hand & Shears – you can read about them in an earlier Smithfield blog of mine from January last year.
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A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of getting off the train at what must be one of the most strangely named stations in London …
Apparently the name derives from it being the former dumping ground for mud dredged from the Millwall Docks, which had to be regularly dredged to prevent silting up.
Very close by was the place where my safari started …
I suppose calling my visit a safari is a slight exaggeration but hopefully it sparked your interest to look at the blog.
Having browsed the Internet, this was the image I was hoping to replicate …
Sheep grazing with Canary Wharf in the background – what a great shot.
Unfortunately, on the day I visited the weather was awful and the sheep unobliging …
‘Just what do you think you’re staring at?’
The donkeys looked pretty fed up too …
‘Put that camera away – I’m not looking my best!’
Even the llamas didn’t want to know …
The goats, on the other hand, were delighted to see me …
I have a suspicion that not everyone obeys the ‘Do not feed the animals’ rule.
And I must say, this Ack-ack gun was an unexpected discovery …
These guns were a crucial part of London’s defence system during the War. Scroll down to the end of the blog to see a map of the damage bombs did around St Paul’s Cathedral.
Walking nearby along the river there are some great views and, of course, an interesting bollard or two …
So I’ll try to return when the weather is nicer.
Here are some more random images that I have recorded on my walks.
Outside St Giles the Magnolia trees are blossoming …
Daffs are popping up everywhere. They cheer me up even when the weather is rubbish …
And they’re not alone …
I came cross some Barbican acrobatics …
Barbican water feaures …
Water feature plus residents …
I went to a meeting in Finsbury Circus recently and they had a rather nice roof terrace so I snapped this city skyline view …
I’m not a great fan of that new monster building on Bishopsgate, but it does generate interesting reflections at certain times of day. In the foreground is St Giles Church and on the left Tower 42 …
And finally, an apartment hosting a giant pink banana being cuddled by a furry white poodle. I so wish I knew their background story!
PS Don’t forget, the excellent Magnificent Maps exhibition at the Metropolitan Archive finishes on 29th March, so no time to lose if you want to visit.
This is a screen shot of one of the displays showing the bomb damage around St Paul’s Cathedral …
Here is the key – just look at the devastation and wonder how the Cathedral survived …
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And various other pieces of work that made me smile …
This drawing high up on a wall looked vaguely familiar …
Then I realised I’d seen a work in the same style in Moor Lane outside the Barbican …
Incidentally, and bizarrely, this ‘crypto heritage’ plaque in Rivington Street celebrates the launch of the cryptocurrency Etherium …
It’s still around if you fancy a risky investment.
This is number 81 Rivington Street …
It displays the coat of arms of the Borough of Shoreditch, More Light – More Power. The twin bodied, single headed lion was taken from the coat of arms of the medieval Lord of the Manor, John de Northampton, second Lord of the Manor of Shoreditch and Lord Mayor of London 1381-1382 …
Adopted in 1900, the motto was inspired by the success of the refuse destructor located where National Centre for Circus Arts is now on Hoxton Square. Responding to the need for street lights, the progressive idea to generate power from refuse was launched in 1897. The energy this generated powered the street lighting across Shoreditch and became a particularly powerful symbol of the progressive Shoreditch policies.
The ‘destructor’ …
Back in Old Street, I admired once more the beautiful civic building that is the old Shoreditch Town Hall which opened in 1866 …
Later in 1904, the extension to the Town Hall included the tower and statue of Lady Progress.
The statue is based on the popular Victorian figure of ‘Hope’, with allusions to both Greek and Norse mythology and uncanny similarities to the Statue of Liberty. Aligning with the symbolic prominence of the refuse destructor and the progression it represented, she is depicted elsewhere in the borough as a beacon of light rising from ashes.
The latin translates as ‘Out of the dust, light and power’.
Old Street Magistrates Court was transformed into a hotel in 2016 (previous temporary visitors included Reggie and Ronnie Kray) …
The eastern half of the building contained a police station …
It included accommodation for a married inspector on the first floor and for 40 single men on the second and third floors. There was a kitchen and mess room along with rooms for storing, drying and brushing clothes and boots. You really could say there was a ‘police presence’ in those days.
The building in 1974 …
On my walk I checked out a few blue plaques. This one is at 333 Old Street …
This one is in Hoxton Square …
Parkinson was the first to describe ‘paralysis agitans’, a condition that would later be renamed after him.
The square also hosts this cutely named cocktail bar …
Walking back home via Tabernacle Street I admired the old street sign for Platina Street …
… along with the metal bollard which has seen a few bumps and scrapes over the years …
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Two weeks ago I published a blog about Art Deco in Miami, which many people liked, so I thought it might be nice to write something about Art Deco in the City.
I am going to cheat a bit and republish the blog I wrote on this subject way back in November 2017. Sadly the wonderful Express Newspaper building is currently hidden behind hoardings but the pictures here will give you a good idea of how impressive it is.
Here’s the 2017 blog:
I used to often confuse Art Deco and Art Nouveau – probably because they both begin with the word ‘art’. I had to get my head around this properly when I decided to write this blog and therefore searched for a simple explanation.
The one I like best is that Art Nouveau tends to be flowing and flowery whereas Art Deco tends to be sharp and streamlined. Both designs evolved as a result of the culture of the times – Nouveau influenced by the industrial revolution and Deco by the First World War.
Here are some of my Art Deco favourites.
Every now and then when I headed off to meetings in the East end of the City I would walk past the magnificent, undulating and symmetrical Ibex House at 42-47 Minories. Built in 1937, it is clad in black and beige faience and, apparently, has the longest strip windows in London. When it opened you could rent space for 6 shillings (30 new pence) per square foot – which included the cost of cleaning.
Ibex House, Minories – view from Portsoken Street
I often feel a bit nostalgic walking down Fleet Street. I well remember its heyday when lorries trundled past carrying gigantic rolls of paper and you could hear the presses rumbling into the night producing the next day’s print news. Sadly, it was also the home of the notorious so-called ‘Spanish Customs’, restrictive practices which eventually left the industry open to brutal modernisation and, finally, total relocation.
The former Daily Express building in Fleet Street (1932) has a black facade with rounded corners in vitrolite with clear glass and chromium strips and, in my view, looks quite futuristic even today. The newspaper moved out in 1989 and the current owners are investment bankers Goldman Sachs. The foyer is stunning but currently hidden from view behind curtains – come on, Goldman’s, draw back those curtains and let us mere mortals have a peep!
120 Fleet Street – Architects Ellis and Clarke and later Sir Evan Owen Williams
Facade detail
The foyer, currently hidden from the street
The former Daily Telegraph building at 141 Fleet street is another Art Deco masterpiece (also owned by Goldman Sachs). It is meant to be overwhelming and certainly succeeds with its giant fluted columns topped with carved Egyptian capitals.
Daily Telegraph building 1928 by Elcock and Sutcliffe with Thomas Tait (who studied under Charles Rennie Mackintosh)
Just above street level, Twin Mercuries head off to distribute news around the Empire with the sun rising over the centre of the hemisphere which is, of course, England. Apparently the carver, Arthur Oakley, shortly afterwards became a monk specialising in religious ornaments.
Relief of twin Mercuries by Arthur Oakley
This clock above the entrance is a delight
Florin Court , designed by Guy Morgan and Partners and opened in 1936, is famous now as the fictional ‘Whitehaven Mansions’ home of Hercule Poirot. It’s in Charterhouse Square and originally boasted squash courts, a dining room and a cocktail bar. Nowadays, there’s a gym, a spa and a wi-fi area.
Which room is Miss Lemon’s office?
I have two favourites – Fox Umbrellas and the ship’s prow in Bury Street.
Fox Umbrellas at 118 London Wall was constructed in 1937 on the ground floor of an early 19th century terraced house. It is by the shopfitting firm E. Pollard & Company and has a vitrolite front along with curved non-reflective glass (an American invention for which Pollard held the English patent). According to the blog London’s Historic Shops and Markets, this ‘invisible’ glass, which was was very expensive, allowed passers-by to see much further into the shop and made the stock on display more visible at a time when interior lighting was duller and less sharp than today. It works by using a steeply curved concave glass to deflect light towards matt black ‘baffles’. Pollards installed the same type of glass at Simpsons of Piccadilly, where it is still in place today (the store is now a Waterstones).
Fox’s before it became a wine bar
Fox’s today – you can see the unique curved glass
Lovely detail on the door
Pop in for a glass of wine – many of the original features have been preserved.
For the Art Deco ship’s prow, first find Holland House in Bury Street just opposite the Gherkin and the subject of my earlier blog, Ship Ahoy. Walk around to the south east corner of the building, step back and admire this brave vessel plunging through the waves towards you, the funnel smoking impressively. It’s a granite structure by the Dutch artist J. Mendes da Costa and reflects the company’s main business of shipping. I love this story about the ship’s positioning. Apparently the company owner, Helene Kröller-Müller, had wished to buy the whole of the Bury Street corner, but had been thwarted by the adjacent owners who refused to sell. As a consequence, Holland House is broken into two sections, and it has been suggested that the aggressive prow of the ship was intended to ‘cock a snook’ at the neighbours.
The ship’s prow with the Gherkin in the background
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I visited Tower Bridge last week and joined the folk paying for and enjoying the Tower Bridge Experience.
I approached from the north and took this image of the modern skyline with the Tower of London in the foreground …
This plaque made me smile. It commemorates the celebration of the centenary of the bridge’s construction in 1994 when HRH Prince Charles attended. As well as HRH the plaque manages to squeeze in the names of : the Lord Mayor, two Sheriffs, four Aldermen, no fewer than 33 Commoners, the Town Clerk and the City Engineer …
The emblem at the foot of the plaque is that of the Bridge House Estates, a fascinating institution that has existed for over 900 years and now does much more than manage the City’s famous bridges. Read more about it here.
If approaching the bridge this way, look out for the lamp standard that doesn’t have a lamp on it …
Under the bridge is a little room that was once used by soldiers guarding the Tower as somewhere to keep out of the cold. This is the cunningly disguised chimney for their coal fire.
Between 14 and 15 million rivets were used to hold the bridge together. There are some nice examples on the bridge approach …
This picture is from the exhibition inside …
Incidentally, the red, white and blue colours date from the Queen’s 1977 Silver Jubilee. It used to be painted a sludgy brown (or ‘chocolate’ if you prefer). The paintwork on the stairwells and girders inside the building is still the old colour …
Some views looking upriver before you enter the bridge building itself …
The ship moored next to the Belfast is the Norwegian warship Nordkapp …
Another interesting City skyline view …
In the foreground is the artificially constructed Tower Beach. Read all about it in my blog entitled A Wander Near the Tower of London.
The exhibition inside has been extensively upgraded since I last visited over 10 years ago.
There are some great films of the City at the turn of the 20th century showing on a loop. This is obviously Bank junction …
Here are a few more examples …
Victorian construction techniques could be dangerous …
Up to 850 people were employed at any one time when building the bridge from 1886-1894 and 10 are known to have died in accidents.
The upper walkway …
There is a section of glass floor (but you can walk around it if you’re nervous!) …
There are great views both up and downriver. This is looking east towards Canary Wharf …
A highlight is, of course, the brilliant Victorian engineering that was created to operate the bridge lifting mechanism. When it was built it was the largest and most sophisticated bascule bridge ever completed (‘bascule’ comes from the French word for ‘seesaw’).
Two giant giant boilers made the steam to power the engines …
The stokers had to shovel about 3,000 kilos of coal every day for which they were well rewarded, earning between £25 and £30 a week, a good wage in the 1930s. Many, according to the commentary, saved enough to buy their own homes.
The pumping engine machinery is beautiful …
As one might expect, there is a Tower Bridge cat. It’s called Bella and you can buy an appropriate memento …
I did resist the temptation.
All in all, a great ‘experience’, highly recommended.
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I usually only post my holiday snaps on Instagram but I’m making an exception this week after my visit to Miami South Beach. This is partly because I know I have a number of Art Deco fans among my subscribers, but also because I was just so impressed with what has been retained and restored in the Ocean Drive district where we were staying.
Here are views looking north …
… and south …
Here are my favourite buildings and what I have been able to find out about them.
The McAlpin Hotel has been described as follows: One of the finest examples of Art Deco architecture in Miami with its perfectly symmetrical design and eye-catching Miami pastel hues of pink and turquoise. Look for the cute face formed in the center of the building by three windows and the dividing lines. It was designed in 1940 by Lawrence Murray Dixon, considered one of the great minds in the Art Deco movement …
In the evening …
Next door, and by the same architect, is the Ocean Plaza, built a year later …
It also is prettily illuminated at night …
Built in 1937, the Leslie Hotel is described as follows in the architectural guide book : Tripartite symmetry on primary facade; Vertical racing stripes; Eyebrows; Large signage of hotel name; Ziggurat parapet roofline; Minimal additional ornamentation.
I like the use of the term ‘eyebrows’, so appropriate …
The Cavalier South Beach Hotel was one of the first hotels ever to be built on Ocean Drive and was designed by architect Roy F. France in 1936 …
‘Unlike most Art Deco buildings in the area, using horizontal lines as the main feature in their design, the Cavalier bucks this trend by going for a more vertical style. The decorative stucco friezes outside the building draw your eyes upward. As a result, the hotel looks strikingly different from the nearby structures’ …
‘It has relief decoration, a kind of railroad track design, that cuts vertically through the windows and continues to outline the top as well as the circular discs that add a geometric motif’ …
And finally, by the same architect, The Cardozo (1939) …
Built in 1939, the hotel was named after Benjamin Cardozo, one of the first Jewish jurors appointed to the US Supreme Court …
The nearby Carlyle looks rather unusual …
The architectural guide book says : ‘A mainstay of Miami’s Ocean Drive, The Carlyle represented an evolution of the Art Deco style that had dominated architect Richard Kiehnel’s previous works, while still retaining standards like the rule of thirds and elegant curvatures nestled among sharp geometry.
Opening in 1941 with a sparse colour palette of white and sea foam green, the Carlyle is a significantly more understated and nuanced take on the bright pastel colorways seen on other South Beach hotels like The Pelican’ …
The Winter Haven Hotel – here’s another excerpt from the Guide Book : The Winter Haven Hotel … was designed by Albert Anis and opened in 1939. Taller than the typical South Beach Art Deco hotel, it still has the typical tripartite front and extended eyebrows around the corners. The notched central bay includes even the windows. A canopy supported by fluted columns accentuates the front. The upper stories above the canopy are dramatically supported by these heavy fluted columns’.
These are just a few examples of the Art Deco delights of Miami. They were for a long time under serious threat of demolition but were rescued by the efforts of a wonderful, tenacious lady called Barbara Baer Capitman who is commemorated with this sculpture …
To start with I lingered among the street-food stalls that appear every weekday and seem to do a roaring trade now that City workers are back (even though many of them only come in Tuesdays to Thursdays).
My favourite stand …
Lots more to choose from …
Some are award winners!
Spring by Jimmy C – nice to see this mural without cars parked in front of it …
Miaow!
More street art …
One of my favourites ..
Made me smile …
The following words in italics come from the St Luke’s Conservation area document. The images are mine.
Central and pivotal to the conservation area St. Luke’s Church, dating from 1733, designed by John James and Nicholas Hawksmoor, is one of London’s most important churches.
The church is now refurbished as a rehearsal,concert and education centre for the London Symphony Orchestra. The unusual obelisk spire is a major local landmark, with important views downWhitecross Street.
Surrounding the church is the churchyard and burial ground, now a public open space, with fine plane trees, railings and tombs.
Fronting onto these spaces are several important groups of Georgian and Victorian buildings which are of architectural and historic interest and which contribute to the setting of the church.
There is a tomb in the churchyard which is often described as the family tomb of William Caslon (1692-1766) …
He was the first major letter founder in London and, nearly three centuries later, remains the pre-eminent letter founder this country has produced. Before Caslon, there was little letter founding in Britain and most type was imported – even Shakespeare’s First Folio was printed with French type. But Caslon’s achievement was to realise designs and produce type which have been widely used ever since. And it all happened here, around the eastern fringes of the City of London. The Caslon family tomb stood just yards from where William Caslon started his first letter foundry in Helmet Row in 1727.
‘T. B. Reed … wrote that the Caslon tomb was kept in repair by a bequest from Mary Hanbey, daughter of William Caslon I, who died in January 1797. In fact it is clear from her will that the present tomb, which she paid for, replaced the original monument of the Caslon family, and was dedicated to her husband Thomas Hanbey, who had been born in Sheffield and died in 1786. He was a Liveryman of the Ironmongers’ Company and Master of the Company in 1775 …’
In any event, hopefully the remains of the remarkable Mr Caslon are still there somewhere, so I shall keep my tribute to him in this blog.
The church spire was topped by an unusual weather vane depicting the head of a dragon with a fiery comet-like tail. Apparently this was misinterpreted locally as a louse, and by the mid-20th century had gained the church the nickname ‘lousy St Luke’s’ …
Parish Boundary bollard for ‘St Luke’s Middlesex’ …
Walking east along Old street, look up for the Salvation Army ghost sign …
‘Hostel for working men. Cheap beds and food’.
And finally, number 116, now appropriately renamed Stylus, used to be the Margolin Gramophone Company factory …
They manufactured the Dansette record player – a name very familiar to us baby-boomers …
I had a portable one just like this …
Cool!!!
In those days I could pop some of my vinyl collection into a handy little carrying case and take it when visiting friends. And, guess what, I still have it! …
And there are still records in it …
A small sample …It was my mum who liked The Bachelors, honest.
This was a very controversial 1965 hit around the world …
Listen to it and you will see why. It was the time of the Vietnam War and the year when Martin Luther King organised a march from Selma to Birmingham, Alabama, which began on 7 March 1965 with around 600 marchers taking part. When the marchers reached the outskirts of Selma they were attacked by state troopers and local police.
Oh, bliss, someone has written a book about the City of London bollards.
Odd as it may seem, I’ve always wanted to know more about them and now my curiosity has been satisfied by this wonderful book, Bollardology, by Dr Cathy Ross, the historian and former Director of Collections at the Museum of London.
To suggest that this is just a book about street furniture is not to do it justice. It’s a combination of a fascinating history of the City itself, beautifully written, along with what I can only describe as a bollard love affair. I promise that, if you read this book, you will never look at the humble bollard the same way again. For example, you’ll trace its development from the 18th century to the present day, from when it protected us from rampant coach and horse traffic to when it helps to protect us now from the actions of terrorists. To say I learnt a lot would be an understatement.
If you can, do what I did and pop in to the Guildhall Art Gallery and purchase it at their little shop, or buy it online here – they tell me it’s their current bestseller. It’s an absolute bargain at £12:99. I read it at one sitting and then set out with my camera to track down some examples.
There is a little platoon of bollard soldiers gathered in Idol Lane alongside the beautiful ruined church and garden of St Dunstan in the East …
And surely this one is their commanding officer. Look at the striking City emblem and the 1886 date …
And, the most extraordinary feature of all, it’s hollow …
Here’s the story of this remarkable little artefact as told in Cathy Ross’s book along with extracts from the excellent Look up London blog by Katie Wignall.
Cathy’s sleuthing revealed that in October 1886 the City of London Corporation unveiled a new public urinal at the corner of Gracechurch Street and Eastcheap. This was the original site of the hollow bollard where it formed part of the ventilation system. Here are the loos today – all locked up …
It was hard to find any 19th century images of the public toilet, but you can see the urinal (circled in yellow) on the 1893-96 OS map below.
layersoflondon.org – OS maps 1893-96
To further visualise it, there’s a description detailed in Bollardology. It comes from William Haywood, an Engineer and Surveyor who was the City of London’s Commissioner of Sewers (think of him as the Joseph Bazalgette, specifically for the City). He was an extraordinary man and one of the pleasures of this book is finding out more about him (along with his somewhat ‘unconventional’ personal life).
In his report in 1887 he notes there is a ‘large five light lamp standard placed at the centre of the refuge, the base of which forms a ventilating shaft… The other lamp standards and dwarf posts [bollards] placed near the footway curbs are so designed to assist the ventilation.’
Although Katie couldn’t find any 19th century images of the five light lamp standard, she guesses it was similar to the remaining one by the public toilets outside the Royal Courts of Justice …
Today only the base of the original large lamp remains and it’s still an attractive bit of street furniture, now painted black and cream …
No record seems to exist as to how the Idol Lane bollard ended up where it is now, about five minutes walk away.
Here’s my personal bollard collection, starting with this semi-circle of 36 lumps of granite installed in 1874 around the west end of St Paul’s Cathedral. They were not called bollards at the time – The Times described them as ‘dwarf, ornamental granite posts’. This part of the Cathedal precinct had previously been closed off by iron railings and the stones marked the new and porous boundary between public and private land – a modernising ‘improvement’ …
The tops of some bollards remind me of a lemon squeezer …
In the courtyard of St Helen’s Bishopsgate is what is often claimed to be the oldest bollard in the City. Experts identify this as the ‘cascable’ end of an 18th century French naval cannon …
These skinny versions date from 1993 and apparently were often positioned in the spot where parking meters once stood before they were removed …
Some show a fair bit of wear and tear …
From the 1990s onwards the City started taking branding really seriously and the bollards reinforced the fact that you were in a very special part of London …
Moveable versions …
There’s a positive invasion taking place at Bank Junction …
I was surprised to find some wooden versions. These are outside St Mary-le-Bow and date from the 1990s …
These are on Paternoster Row near the entrance to St Paul’s Churchyard …
Unfortunately wooden varieties are very prone to damage …
Standing guard at the entrance to St Paul’s Churchyard, these are probably HVMs (Hostile Vehicle Mitigation bollards) helping to keep us safe …
These HVMs are a bit more obvious …
I think they’re really sinister. They reminded me of the alien robot in the 1951 movie The Day the Earth Stood Still. Watch the terrific trailer here …
Here colour is used to create a more friendly appearance …
These versions aim to be both decorative and informative …
On a more jolly note, some bollards have been colourfully dressed up to promote the City’s Culture Mile …
Finally, how about this quote from the City of London Corporation Street Scene Manual2005. The writer gets carried away and waxes lyrical as to how bollards positively added to the gaity of City life :
In parts of the City rush hour ‘bollard ballet’ is performed as office workers dodge both each other and the forest of bollards on their way to and from work.
Bollard ballet indeed!
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Why is this splendid Art Deco building on Tooley Street called St Olaf House?
Why is it called St Olaf House? The answer is beautifully engraved on the wall …
The man himself …
The main entrance …
St Olaf House was built between 1928 and 1932 for the Hay’s Wharf Company and now houses the London Bridge Private Hospital’s consulting and administration rooms. You can read more about the building here.
Walking east you come acoss Hay’s Galleria …
In a fountain at the centre is a 60 ft moving bronze sculpture of a ship, called The Navigators, by sculptor David Kemp, unveiled in 1987 to commemorate the Galleria’s shipping heritage …
Further east on the south side of the road is The Shipwrights Arms, built in 1884 and now a Grade 2 listed building. I love the beautiful lady figurehead above the main door …
Back on the north side it’s easy to miss this commemorarive plaque …
It reads as follows : To the memory of James Braidwood, superintendent of the London Fire Brigade, who was killed near this spot in the execution of his duty at the great fire on 22nd June 1861. A just man and one that feared god, of good report among all the nation.
I shall be writing more about the heroic James Braidwood and the Great Tooley Street Fire next week.
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Visitors to the Tower looking down towards the river probably don’t give a second thought to this little strip of sand …
Here it is as seen from the cruise boat access bridge …
People had walked on the Thames foreshore for thousands of years but Tower Beach, as it was known, was created in 1934 by bringing 1,500 barge loads of sand to the site. When it was officially opened, King George V decreed that the beach was to be used by the children of London, and that they should be given ‘free access forever’.
Take a look at these wonderful images starting with the lovely girls from the famous Windmill Theatre …
East end lads having a great time …
Sadly it had to be closed in 1971 because of the danger of pollution to bathers.
You can see more if you click on this link to the article the images come from in the MailOnline.
This exciting sculpture, Girl With a Dolphin, was created in 1972 by David Wynne …
It looks even better when its water fountain is working.
I know not everyone likes The Shard but I appreciate the way it mirrors the sky, especially on a stormy day …
That’s the well-camouflaged HMS Belfast in the foreground.
St Katharine Docks opened on the 25th October 1828 and this painting shows the first ships entering during the opening ceremony …
The docks as they appeared in full operation …
These formidable lock gates are still in place and fully functioning …
St Katharine, a 4th century aristocrat, refused to marry the Emperor Maximilian and was punished by being tortured on a spiked wheel before being beheaded. Her usual symbols are a wheel and a book, and may also include the more general symbols of the virgin martyr, a crown and a sword. The saint on this plaque has two appropriate extra symbols: the water and the Tower …
You will see her portrayed throughout the area …
Posh flats and yachts …
You can glimpse The Gherkin and The Scalpel in the background …
Ivory House, designed by George Aitchison & Son in 1853, is the only original warehouse still standing in St Katharine Docks today. It gets its name because of the vast amount of ivory that passed through it. At its peak in the 1870s, nearly 200 tons of ivory was stored annually. Apart from the ivory, other luxury imports were stored such as perfume, shells, marble, carpets, spices and wine. The London docks were the world’s greatest concentration of portable wealth …
Note the thickness and height of the walls lining the street – serious security …
Across the river is Butlers Wharf, once used to store vast quantities of tea …
The sculptress Paula Haughney has a number of her works on display around the area which have as their theme the merchandise which used to be unloaded here. The stones used for these sculptures were part of the original dock. You’ll find a guide to where they are and their titles here …
The work has reminders of the dock’s past. The chains which support it are reminiscent of anchor chains. The ring of the sundial is a giant washer. The central gnomon is an enlarged nail.
Get your souvenirs here …
As I left the area and walked towards Tower Hill Station I noticed this curious building …
The London Hydraulic Power Company was established in 1868 to install a hydraulic power network in London. This expanded to cover most of central London at its peak, before being replaced by electricity, with the final pump house closing in 1977. This is the entrance to the Tower Subway which was originally an old pedestrian tunnel the Company bought to carry power under the Thames …
Just before I reached the station I noticed the Armistice Day wreaths left at the Tower Hill memorial. It commemorates more than 36,000 Merchant sailors who have no grave but the sea …
This will now be the site of the new Chinese Embassy since its purchase in 2018. This has proved controversial and you can read more here and view plans here.
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I wanted to do something special in view of the significance of tomorrow’s date so I will be writing about dramatic events that happened in or near the City during wartime. I also thought it would be appropriate to write again about some of the most moving of the memorials to be found around the City and suggest that this may be nice time to visit them since, for a few weeks now, wreaths, crosses and other tokens of remembrance will still be in place. Some of these stories and pictures have been posted before but I hope you don’t mind.
By coincidence, I have been reading historian Jerry White’s brilliant latest book The Battle of London 1939-45 and I reproduce below a short extract :
In the heavy seven-hour raid that started on Saturday 11 January 1941 and continued into Sunday … a High Explosive bomb burst through the roadway outside the Bank of England and exploded in the booking hall of Bank tube Station. The blast travelled through the top subways and escalators and swept shelterers and passengers off the platforms onto the path of trains pulling in. Fifty-two died … and the bomb left a deep crater blocking the seven-street interchange and three tube lines below …
The City’s highway engineers, supplemented by army sappers, set to work on Sunday morning. Miraculously, and I use that word rarely, the ‘largest crater in London’ was speedily freed from rubble and on 1 February a temporary iron and steel bridge began to inch out from Cornhill to Poultry. It was completed and opened by the Lord Mayor on Monday 3 February …
The station was in use again by 17 March and by May the bridge had been dismantled and the interchange traffic was flowing once more.
Looking north a few weeks ago …
If you look carefully you can still see evidence of the wartime bombing with blast wounds on the wall of the Bank of England on Princes Street …
At 11:30 in the morning on 8th March 1945 Smithfield Market was extremely busy, with long queues formed to buy from a consignment of rabbits that had just been delivered. Many in the queue were women and children. With an explosion that was heard all over London, a V2 rocket landed in a direct hit which also cast victims into railway tunnels beneath – 110 people died and many more were seriously injured …
In the Grand Avenue, Central Markets, Smithfield (EC1A 9PS) is this memorial …
The original commemoration of names (above the red granite plinth) is by G Hawkings & Son and was unveiled on 22 July 1921. 212 people are listed.
Between Fame and Victory holding laurel wreaths, the cartouche at the top reads …
1914-1918 Remember with thanksgiving the true and faithful men who in these years of war went forth from this place for God and the right. The names of those who returned not again are here inscribed to be honoured evermore.
The monument was refurbished in 2004/5 and unveiled on 15 June 2005 by the Princess Royal and Lord Mayor Savory. The red granite plinth had been added and refers to lives lost in ‘conflict since the Great War’. On it mention is made of the women and children although the V2 event is not specifically referred to.
‘Thou hast put all things under his feet, all Sheep and Oxen’.
At the base is the coat of arms of the Worshipful Company of Butchers who helped to fund the refurbishment, along with the Corporation of London and the Smithfield Market Tenants’ Association.
It’s sometimes forgotten that the civilian population of London was also bombed during the First World War. The market was hit in 1917 by bombs dropped from a Zeppelin – you can still see the shrapnel marks nearby on the walls of St Bartholomew’s Hospital …
Herbert Mason’s famous photograph, taken from the roof of the Daily Mail building, of St Paul’s triumphantly rising above the inferno of smoke and flames below, came to symbolise for Britain and the world an apparently indestructible London …
The Cathedral did not escape totally. It was hit by a bomb which detonated in the North Transept …
Troops start a clean-up nearby …
In the foreground of the Royal Exchange stands London Troops War Memorial …
On either side two soldiers stand at ease, one representing the Royal Fusiliers and the other the Royal Field Artillery …
At the bottom of the list of battalions, two in particular caught my eye, the Cyclists and the Artists Rifles …
I came across this 1912 recruitment poster at the Imperial War Museum. It is poignant to look at this picture with its pretty village setting and then think of the industrial age war and slaughter that was soon to follow …
It was therefore quite a coincidence that, on 9th November 2018, the then Prime Minister Theresa May laid a wreath at the grave of a cyclist …
John Parr was the first UK soldier to be killed in the First World War on 21 August 1914. He was 15 when he signed up in 1912 but claimed to be eighteen years and one month. His comrades nicknamed him ‘Ole Parr’, which suggests that everyone knew he was much younger than he claimed, especially since on joining he was only 5 foot 3 inches tall and weighed just 8.5 stone! This is his grave at St Symphorium Military Cemetery, Mons, Belgium …
Parr was a reconnaissance cyclist in the 4th Battalion of the Middlesex Regiment and died on the outskirts of Mons, Belgium. Bicycles were commonly used in the War, not only for troop transport, but also for carrying dispatches. Field telephones were also limited by the need for cables, and ‘wireless’ communications were still unreliable. So cyclists – and runners, motorbike riders, pigeons and dogs – were frequently preferred by both the Allies and the German army. There is an interesting article on the subject by Carlton Reid in Forbes magazine
The story of the Artists’ Rifles is a fascinating one.
The regiment was formed in 1859 by art student Edward Starling. It was a volunteer regiment and formed out of the widespread fear of a French invasion. Many of those who joined were artists, actors, musicians and architects and its first headquarters was located at Burlington House. The First World War would see the regiment literally leading from the front as they become a training regiment for officers in this period. It is also for this reason that the Artists Rifles had one of the highest casualty rates of any regiment.
This painting, Over the Top by John Nash, depicts his regiment in action. On 30th December 1917, the 1st Artists Rifles counter-attacked at Welsh Ridge, south-west of Cambrai. Nash called the action ‘pure murder’ as most of the company were killed. A sergeant, he counted himself lucky to escape the carnage …
Copyright : Imperial War Museum.
During the Great War, 2,003 of the regiment’s men were killed and over 3,000 wounded. Members of the regiment would be awarded eight Victoria Crosses and over 850 other military awards including the Distinguished Service Order (awarded 52 times) and the Military Cross (awarded 822 times). They were also mentioned in dispatches 564 times.
Incidentally, in the very first episode of the fourth series of Blackadder he becomes an artist, believing that this is his chance to escape the trenches. However, it is revealed that the artist’s role is to undertake a highly dangerous job – to draw the enemy’s defences from No Man’s Land.
The last episode of the series is renowned for its moving climax and you can view it here : Good luck everyone.
I also recommend a visit to the Tower Hill Memorial which commemorates men and women of the Merchant Navy and Fishing Fleets who died in both World Wars and who have no known grave.
The First World War section commemorates almost 12,000 Mercantile Marine casualties and was designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens with sculpture by Sir William Reid-Dick. It was unveiled by Queen Mary on 12 December 1928 …
The Second World War extension, which commemorates almost 24,000 casualties, was designed by Sir Edward Maufe, with sculpture by Charles Wheeler. It was unveiled by Queen Elizabeth II on 5 November 1955.
In the background, Neptune (standing on the old Port of London Authority headquarters) points towards the sea …
Within the garden the walls are overlaid with bronze plaques on which the names of the men and their ships are inscribed in relief. At regular intervals, between the inscription panels, are allegorical figures representing the Seven Seas. Here is one of them, Neptune with his trident …
And another, a mermaid combing her hair …
Images from my visit last November …
A few years ago I noticed a small cross resting on one of the allegorical figures, just above the dolphin’s head …
Here it is in close up …
How wonderful. Arthur Myers remembered by a grandchild and two great, great grandchildren. His ship, the Empire Lakeland, was sunk by a U Boat on 11 March 1943.
On 2 April 1982, Argentine forces landed in and captured the Falklands Islands. A task force was dispatched in order to retake the territory and this was accomplished when the occupying forces surrendered on 14 June that year. Nine members of the Merchant Navy and eight members of the Royal Fleet Auxiliary were killed in the conflict and their names are recorded here beneath those of their ships …
There is a Korean War Memorial outside St Sepulchre-without-Newgate Church (EC1A 9DQ) …
The Southwark Cathedral World War I bronze remembrance plaque is beautiful …
Another suggestion for a visit is the National Submarine War Memorial on Victoria Embankment (EC4Y 0HJ). Although able to hide when submerged, once struck the vessels were often unable to rise to the surface and became effectively underwater coffins. In the First World War fifty four boats were lost and with them the lives of 138 officers and 1,225 men. At the inauguration in 1922 Rear Admiral Sinclair, the Chief of the Submarine Service, reminded those present that, during the Great War …
The number of those killed in the Submarine Service was greater in proportion to its size than any other branch of His Majesty’s fighting forces … one third of the total personnel.
In November 1959 new panels commemorating Second World war losses were unveiled by Rear Admiral B W Taylor.
Wright and Moore, writing for the 20th Century Architecture website, describe the memorial as a complex mixture of narrative and symbolism …
Sculptor: F B Hitch Architect: A H R Tenison Founder: E J Parlanti
The central figures recreate the scene set inside the submarine exaggerating it into a small, claustrophobic tunnel. The crew use charts and follow dials, the captain is braced at the centre with the periscope behind his head. Around the vessel a shallow relief depicts an array of sea creatures or mermen appearing to trap and haul the submarine in fishing nets, reminding us that the submarines were as much prey to the tempestuous elements as they were to the enemy.
On both corners are allegorical figures. Next to the list of vessels lost between 1914 and 1918, Truth holds up her mirror. Just further to the left in the picture are two of the 40 bronze wreath hooks in the form of anchors …
On the right, next to the vessels lost in the Second World War, Justice wears a blindfold and as usual holds a sword and scales …
Here is an image from last year’s service …
This is the Memorial at the entrance to the church of St Bartholomew the Great …
Much of the late 19th and early 20th century church restoration work was carried out by Sir Aston Webb (1849-1930) and he also designed the memorial. It includes the name of his son Philip, who was killed in action on 25th September 1916 …
And now to Holborn and this work by Albert Toft. Unveiled by the Lord Mayor in 1922, the inscriptions read …
To the glorious memory of the 22,000 Royal Fusiliers who fell in the Great War 1914-1919 (and added later) To the Royal Fusiliers who fell in the World war 1939-1945 and those fusiliers killed in subsequent campaigns.
Toft’s soldier stands confidently as he surveys the terrain, his foot resting on a rock, his rifle bayoneted, his left hand clenched in determination. At the boundary of the City, he looks defiantly towards Westminster. The general consensus on the internet is that the model for the sculpture was a Sergeant Cox, who served throughout the First World War.
Behind him is the magnificent, red terracotta, Gothic-style building by J.W. Waterhouse, which once housed the headquarters of the Prudential Insurance Company. Walk through the entrance arch to the courtyard and you will see the work of a sculptor who has chosen to illustrate war in a very different fashion. The memorial carries the names of the 786 Prudential employees who lost their lives …
The sculptor was F.V. Blundstone and the work was inaugurated on 2 March 1922. All Prudential employees had been offered ‘the opportunity of taking a personal share in the tribute by subscribing to the cost of the memorial’ (suggested donations were between one and five shillings).
The main group represents a soldier sustained in his death agony by two angels. He is lying amidst war detritus with his right arm resting on the wheel of some wrecked artillery piece. His careworn face contrasts with that of the sombre, beautiful girls with their uplifted wings. I find it incredibly moving.
I have written about angels in the City before and they are usually asexual, but these are clearly female.
At the four corners of the pedestal stand four more female figures.
One holds a field gun and represents the army …
One holds a boat representing the navy …
At the back is a figure holding a shell representing National Service …
The fourth lady holds a bi-plane representing the air force …
The work is tucked away in the building’s courtyard, Waterhouse Square (EC1N 2SW), and I am sure that most of the thousands of people who walk along Holborn every day have no idea it is there.
St Peter’s Hill runs north alongside the College and at the top you will find the Firefighters Memorial. On its octagonal bronze base are the names of the 997 men and women of the fire service who lost their lives during the conflict. The sculpture features two firemen ‘working a branch’, with their legs spread to take the strain of the hose …
A sub-officer directs others to assist. There are clues to the identity of this figure scattered among the debris at the figures’ feet: the letters CTD for C.T. Demarne. At the unveiling, his colleagues from the fire service claimed that there was no need for such clues. One who was interviewed by the Telegraph stated: ‘You can tell it’s Cyril by the way he’s standing…he always waved his arms about like that when he was ordering us about’.
Officer Demarne in full flow.
By 1943 over 70,00 women had enrolled in the National Fire Service in the United Kingdom. This memorial commemorates those who lost their lives in the London bombings …
The lady on the left is an incident recorder and the one on the right a despatch rider.
Some images from various archives …
Holborn 25 October 1940 …
Ludgate Hill …
King William Street …
Queen Victoria Street …
December 1940 – Cripplegate with the shell of St Giles church in the background …
Inside the church …
St Giles today …
It’s ironic, isn’t it, that some remains of the old Roman and Medieval City walls seen here in the foreground were only completely revealed as a result of the bombing …
Tower 52’s poppy …
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Known as L‘Inconnue de la Seine, read on further in the blog to discover her story and how she became world famous.
One has to acknowledge that, when walking through Clerkenwell, this building comes as a bit of a surprise …
The plaque reveals its history …
The museum that now occupies the building is a treat and entry is free. It tells the fascinating story of this famous organisation, from its origins in Jerusalem over 900 years ago to today’s modern St John Ambulance service. I only visited a small part of the museum so will be returning and aiming to take part in a guided tour.
The first exhibits you see…
The Order’s motto today is Pro Fide, ProUtilitate Hominum – For the Faith and in the Service of Humanity. This duty of care is just as relevant today as it was 900 years ago in Jerusalem. The principles of the Order can be summarised in three words, which are inscribed on the central podium shown in the image above.
Faith – Like monks, the first Brothers of the Hospital of St John of Jerusalem vowed to be poor, chaste and obedient …
Care – They took one other vow – to honour and care for the sick and the poor …
Valour – Most of the Brothers were Knights trained in the arts of war. They used these skills to defend the Holy Land …
From the earliest times, the Order had female members. St Ubaldesca joined at Pisa around 1150 and after her death in 1205 she was canonised for her lifelong devotion to the care of others. This painting, from the 1600s, depicts her in a pious pose wearing the robes of the order …
I really like this poster from the 1950s representing as it does the spread of the modern Order throughout the world, initially via the British Empire …
A 1955 portrait of a St John Ambulance Brigade Officer and Nurse …
There’s definitely even more of a hint of Florence Nightingale and her lamp in this painting …
These two examples of suits of armour date from the 1500s to the 1800s but they broadly represent the kind of protection worn by the opposing forces during the Order’s long struggle with the Ottoman Empire.
The Turks favoured mail shirts …
The plate armour worn by European knights offered better protection but it was heavy, inflexible and – under the Mediterranean sun – soon became uncomfortably hot …
Siege relics …
A magnificent 16th century banqueting table decoration that once belonged to the treasury of the Knights of Malta in Valletta ..
The Ashford Litter …
A breakthrough in the transportation of patients allowing them to be moved comfortably by a single person.
The order played a pivotal role in caring for casualties in the First World War …
Just one of a number of display cabinets …
The triangular bandage is a staple component of first aid kits with many different uses. In the late 19th century the St John Ambulance Association started providing printed versions demonstrating how to use it …
Also in the cabinet there is an evocative painting from 1917 of a ward at the St John Ambulance Brigade Hospital, Étaples. The blanket of each bed is emblazoned with the eight-pointed cross of St John …
The insignia can be seen again on a red plaque above each bed, naming the donor who provided funds for it …
The Hospital in Étaples was the largest voluntary hospital serving the British Expeditionary Force during the First World War. It had a staff of 241, all from the St John Ambulance Brigade, and was considered by all who knew it to be the best designed and equipped military hospital in France, caring for over 35,000 patients throughout the war. On the night of the 19th May 1918, the hospital was hit by a bomb which killed five members of staff. Shortly after, on 31st May, a second bomb hit the hospital, resulting in eleven deaths and sixty casualties.
In April 1945, Ada Evelyn-Brown was one of a group of St John Ambulance nurses sent to care for newly liberated prisoners at the infamous Bergen-Belsen concentration camp in north-west Germany. Her photograph album is on display at the museum …
Finally, to a beautiful but tragic lady.
This is the face of a young woman found drowned in the River Seine in Paris in the late 1880s. No one could identify the body, but the pathologist reportedly became fascinated with her serene expression and commissioned a death mask. Soon multiple reproductions were on sale throughout Paris …
In the 1950s a Norwegian toymaker, Asmund Laerdal, was commissioned to produce a mannequin in which people could practise mouth-to-mouth and cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR). Seeking a non-threatening model, he chose L‘Inconnue and when his mannequin was mass-produced she became world-famous for a second time, known to this day as ‘Resusci Anne’.
I loved my visit to the museum and highly recommend it.
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Bright sun, fluffy clouds, blue sky – just right for taking pictures. I decided to photograph some of the City’s newer buildings and see if I could make them look good – even the boring, ugly ones.
Here are the results.
I’ll start with everyone’s favourite …
The Gherkin, with the Guild Church of St Katharine Cree in the foreground.
I’ve been looking through my archive and some of these images made me smile when I came across them. I hope they cheer you up as well in these difficult times.
This notice is from the Inns of Court – home to distinguished members of the legal profession – and is placed at the entrance to the Inner Temple Garden …
What, I wondered, would a resident dog do for a living?
Maybe a judge …
Or perhaps a barrister …
I’m sure neither of them would be guilty of ‘fouling’.
Disconcerting message in Islington …
Yes, we’re prepared, we’ve got some wine in (although that’s probably not necessary).
Sign at a take-away food shop in Eastcheap …
Seems unfair that pigeons are banned even when they want to pay!
Although eating too much could mean you needing these people …
Bad railway news might be more palatable if delivered by a seagull wearing a hard hat and high-viz jacket …
Made me laugh …
Improvised directions …
If you are fencing off a large area for redevelopment work it pays to deploy some humour …
I’m sure the British Transport Police didn’t intend this suspicious character to look a bit like Priti Patel …
On Moorgate …
Especially the ones riding on the pavement.
Quite amusing …
Slightly spooky hotel signage …
I’ll drink to that …
Message from the local osteopath …
Classic public loo design …
But not much use if you’re ‘caught short’ nowadays …
There’s not much you’re allowed to do on the Barbican Highwalk. I like the trumpet and the iPod …
Bad doggy!
Note the cunning alteration here …
If you’re lonely in Bournemouth you can chat with the telescope …
Alongside Smithfield Market …
Bibulous monks outside the Blackfriar pub …
The facade of St Martin’s House at 1 Gresham Street is a delight …
Dating from 1891 it incorporates a wonderfully happy, smiling Mr Sun …
What also makes it charming is the rogue apostrophe ….
Surely it should read St Martin’s House?
Brenden Bracken worked for Winston Churchill during the War …
So the Zodiacal clock on the building named after him incorporates Churchill’s face …
Onward to London Wall. St Olave Silver Street was totally destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666 but its little churchyard lives on. A much weathered 17th century stone plaque records the terrible event …
This was the Parish Church of St Olave Silver street, destroyed by the dreadful fire in the year 1666.
Silver Street itself was annihilated in the Blitz and erased completely by post-war development and traffic planning.
I have, of course, collected quite a few ghost signs …
Classic pointing finger with smart shirt and cufflink …
Another pointed finger (this time it looks like with thumb extended) …
This sign on the wall of St Andrew by the Wardrobe is gradually disappearing. Eventually no one will know that the key for the fire ladder is kept with the Sexton at nearby 52 Carter Lane …
I took this picture three years ago …
Wardrobe Place is a little oasis of calm that escaped the Blitz …
This sign on the far wall harks back to before the war when this area was a centre for printing and print materials …
It reads Snashall & Son. Printers, Stationers and Account Book Manufacturers.
Here’s a picture I took five years ago so it has faded a bit …
Some attractive and imposing signage has, of course, just vanished. This business on the Commercial Road was still going strong 20 years ago …
Now both it and evidence of its existence have disappeared …
Walking along Carter Lane I looked up and saw this engraving …
Rather mysteriously, this is part of the coat of arms of Prince Edward Island …
The motto translates as The small under the protection of the great and dates from 1769. You can read more about its history here.
I like these two post boxes on St Andrew’s Hill (now sadly out of use and painted black) …
The box on the left is Edward VII (1901 – 1910) and on the right is George V (1910 – 1936).
I also like the design of this water fountain beside St Paul’s Cathedral and the pretty sign above it …
And finally, a massive vote of thanks to Cubitts the opticians.
The little shop on the corner of Cheapside and Wood Street used to look like this until the 1990s …
Then it became a card shop and all the quaint old signage was painted over …
Now Cubitts have taken over the building and arranged for a nice restoration job (although the lovely glass that once graced the door has probably been lost forever) …
The magnificent London Plane tree that you can see in most of the pictures stands 70 feet high and is protected by a City ordinance which also limits the height of the shops …
The little garden at the back of the shop used to be the churchyard of St Peter Westcheap (also known as St Peter Cheap) which was destroyed in the Great Fire and not rebuilt. The railings incorporate an image of St Peter. In his lap and above his head are the Keys to the Kingdom of Heaven …
The plaque in the churchyard attached to the shop’s northern wall confirms the age of the building, an early example of the reconstruction after the Great Fire of 1666 …
You can read more about this corner of the City and its history in my blog. A shop, a tree and a poem.
I hope you enjoyed that little trip to my image archive.
Last week I took a walk along the path south of the river and saw some interesting sights which I will revisit in a future blog …
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After my brief visit last week I said I’d write about Waterloo Station again.
In 1899 London & South Western Railway (as the London & Southampton had become) sought permission to completely rebuild and expand the existing station which dated from 1848.
The old station …
As the rebuild was drawing to a close, and as a memorial to their staff that died in the First World War, the LSWR commissioned the Victory Arch. It was designed by J R Scott, their chief architect, and this was his vision for it …
Made of Portland stone and bronze it depicts War and Peace, with Britannia holding the torch of liberty above. Leading from Station Approach onto the concourse, the Victory Arch forms the main entrance to Waterloo …
There are 585 names listed alphabetically on four large panels …
The most famous battle of the Napoleonic War, fought on 18th June 1815 after which the station is named, is commemorated on the upper level inside the station. The plaque was erected to acknowledge the battle’s 2ooth anniversary …
Pretty stained glass above what was once a station exit …
Early 20th century architecture meets 21st century retail …
More architectural detail. It would have been very high up and just below the roof in the original station …
Water damage …
Some previous destinations …
‘The Sunbathers’ …
‘Meet me under the clock’ …
I have gathered some images showing how the concourse has changed over the years.
A wonderful 1948 centenary poster incorporating a watercolour by Helen McKie. If you can, use magnification to admire the detail in the little figures …
An image from 1964 …
A painting by Terence Cuneo depicting the station in 1967 …
And specially for my Gooner subscribers (I know there are a few!) …
Supporters at Waterloo Station on their way to an F A Cup tie at against Portsmouth at Fratton Park, 13th February 1932. (Photo by S. R. Gaiger/Topical Press/Getty Images). Aren’t they dressed smartly – ties, suits and everyone has polished their shoes. The guy on the left looks particularly dapper.
Here are some images I took from outside the station.
Old signage across the road opposite the taxi queue …
I like the way it incorporates a picture of the famous clock …
Great ghost sign …
Wartime bomb damage …
Across the road …
071 ceased to be the London dialing code over 25 years ago.
Finally, I couldn’t resist including these pictures …
Abba at Waterloo in 1974, the year they won the Eurovision Song Contest with a song of the same name.
Listen to the song here on the official Abba website. You may like it even if you weren’t born in 1974!
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Whenever I am travelling anywhere by plane or train I am always ludicrously early and that was the case last week when I was catching a train at Waterloo. I therefore took the opportunity to look around and see if there was some material for the blog. There certainly was.
The station now hosts the National Windrush monument, designed by renowned Jamaican artist Basil Watson. It acknowledges and celebrates the Windrush generation’s outstanding contribution and has been created as a permanent place of reflection, to foster greater understanding of the generation’s talent, hard work and continuing contribution to British society.
The three figures – a man, woman, and child – dressed in their ‘Sunday best’ are climbing a mountain of suitcases together, demonstrating the inseparable bond of the Windrush pioneers and their descendants, and the hopes and aspirations of their generation as they arrive to start new lives in the UK.
There’s much more to see at Waterloo and I shall return to it next week and write more about these images …
My Waterloo research has led me to write about a very different type of station that operated nearby. Passengers departing from here were destined for eternity rather than the seaside.
In the first half of the 19th century, London’s population shot up from around a million people in 1801 to close on two and a half million by 1851. Death was commonplace in the 19th century and eventually the City’s churchyards were literally full to bursting. Coffins were stacked one atop the other in 20-foot-deep shafts, the topmost mere inches from the surface. Putrefying bodies were frequently disturbed, dismembered or destroyed to make room for newcomers. Disinterred bones, dropped by neglectful gravediggers, lay scattered amidst the tombstones; smashed coffins were sold to the poor for firewood. Clergymen and sextons turned a blind eye to the worst practices because burial fees formed a large proportion of their income.
This is Bunhill Burial Ground around that time …
You can also get some idea of how packed cemeteries were if you look at some of the existing City churchyards and observe how much higher the graveyards are compared to street level. This, for example, is the graveyard of St Olave Hart street as seen from inside the church …
Between 1846 and 1849, a devastating cholera epidemic swept across London resulting in the deaths of almost 15,000 Londoners and it became apparent that something had to be done.
Legislation proved ineffective but private enterprise stepped in and a series of huge cemeteries, in which Londoners could be laid to rest in lush, green spacious landscapes, sprang up outside the metropolis. One such enterprise was the grandly titled ‘London Necropolis and National Mausoleum Company’ (LNC), which was formed in July, 1852, with a mandate to develop the former Woking Common, at Brookwood, in Surrey, as one of the new cemeteries to serve London.
Carrying the deceased 23 miles by horse-drawn coach was obviously not practical and thus, in November, 1854, one of Britain’s most bizarre railway lines – the London Necropolis Railway – commenced operations, and daily trains were soon chuffing their way out of ‘Cemetery Station’ in Waterloo, ‘wending their way through the outskirts of London, and on through verdant woodlands and lush, green countryside outside the Metropolis, bound for the tranquil oasis of the new Valhalla in rural Surrey’.
From The Illustrated London News. Saturday, 11th November, 1854 Copyright, Mary Evans Picture Library
The Company obviously gave a lot of thought to its logo and motto. Here it is (the skull and crossbones isn’t exactly subtle, is it) …
The Latin translates as ‘Peace to the dead, health to the living’. Possibly a reference to the lack of security in the old existing graveyards and also their threat to health. Just inside the circle is the ouroboros, an ancient symbol of a snake or serpent eating its own tail, variously signifying infinity and the cycle of birth and death.
The history of the company is an absolutely fascinating story and if you want to know more just click on the link here to the excellent London Walking Tours blog.
A new building for the London terminus was completed on the 8th of February, 1902. Here are some contemporary images …
A class system operated. First and Second Class ‘passengers’, accompanied by mourners, were placed in the train first. Third class mourners were not allowed to witness their loved ones being loaded! …
The end of the line. A funeral train from Waterloo pulling into the north section station at the cemetery in the early 20th century …
On Friday, 11th April, 1941, the body of Chelsea Pensioner Edward Irish (1868 – 1941) left the London Necropolis Station en route for Brookwood. He was the station’s last customer.
Five days later, on the night of the 16th/17th of April, 1941, a German bombing raid on the area destroyed the company’s rolling stock, along with much of the building. The Southern Railway’s Divisional Engineer, having inspected the damage at 2pm, on April, 17th, 1941, reported starkly, ‘Necropolis and buildings demolished.’ Although the offices and the First Class entrance from Westminster Bridge Road had survived, the devastation effectively sounded the death knell for the Necropolis Railway, and, on the 11th of May 1941, the station was officially declared closed.
The First Class platform just after the bombing …
The site in 1950 …
By the time it was put out of business after 87 years the company had ferried over 200,000 bodies between Waterloo and Surrey.
The First Class entrance and the Company’s old offices on Westminster Bridge Road are still there today (SE1 7HR) …
Inside the entrance arch (I think those lamps may be part of the original building, they look suitably funereal) …
I caught this image as I walked home across Waterloo Bridge – the ever-changing City skyline …
Finally, by way of light relief, my favourite newspaper front page of the week – British journalism at its finest …
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