London Lives

There’s a new shopping centre on New Change, in the shadow of St Paul’s Cathedral. It’s nicely done, lots of glass and so on, with all the usual retail suspects there. My optician called the Brunswick Centre ‘Frocks and Food’ and he’d probably say the same about New Change.

The one intriguing thing to me is the jagged reflection of St Paul’s in the glass: Wren’s vision making its presence known.

St Paul's Cathedral reflected in the glass

Maps are rarely just about geography…

So says the pamphlet for this is free exhibition at the British Library and – even sweeter – I had the afternoon off work to have lunch with a pal and to see it.

There are plenty of early maps of the world with beautifully-inscribed  names and others which were displayed to convey their owners’ power. There were re-imagined maps of London as well as UK county and parish maps and a lovely Victorian schoolroom map of Europe with the names of countries and places carefully picked out in clear font. Some of those names and places shifted in early 20th Century Europe and then shifted right back again as the century closed. There were great propaganda maps, too.

The BL has a splendid philatelic collection too, displayed in pull-out glass cases. I could do with some of those at home to put things in.

On the way home I see  a woman on the bench outside Tesco’s clutching a can of Special Brew and carefully writing inside a birthday card.  In the next street to mine, the kids from the flats rush out into the road (no checking for traffic – they rush fearlessly out). Chasing and chasing one another, bikes flung down in the road as they rush along the pavements with sticks. I’m listening to The Smiths’ How Soon is Now.

I was very pleased to see this earlier today about Nathaniel Bryceson:
http://wcclibraries.wordpress.com/2010/07/21/nathaniel-bryceson-lives-on/

I wrote about his diary in my Research in Westminster post (7 Feb 2010)

Echoes of the East End, Venetia Murray (1989)

We get Maundy Thursday off work so I headed to Barbican Library to catch up on some reading and writing. This book was on the ‘Returned Today’ shelves (I always like to look at these shelves – you never know what you’ll find).

Echoes of the East End contains chapters from ‘ordinary’ people describing their lives in the East End of London in the early years of the twentieth century.  We meet girls who grew up on ‘The Island’ (area of housing demolished in 1970) in Clapton E5 and others who lived in Hoxton N1. This is an East End still receiving heavy immigration and a mix of communities finding their feet with ‘native’ Londoners (some of these a generation or two from elsewhere; some of them with deep roots to the area in which they lived).

Some of it is is grim in its description of grinding poverty, inevitable hunger and seemingly endless threats of violence. It seems clichéd to say that these tales are tempered with heart-warming tales of community and neighbourliness, but they are. And there are scholarships won to the local grammar school and birthday celebrations and street parties held on the occasion of King George V and Queen Mary’s Jubilee (1935).

There are also fabulous pictures and descriptions of work and church outings. Much as in the pictures at the Tate Exhibition (in my earlier post Disappearing London:1) these pictures tell us so much of the social history of the time and I sit and pore over the faces and clothes of those lined up for the picture.

Chilly it may still be, but the skies are brightening up and there was some lovely sunshine to be had today at 12°C.

Trinity Square Gardens, EC3

Trinity Square EC3 is opposite the Tower of London and is the location of  Trinity House (designed by Samuel Wyatt, 1796) and the former Port of London Authority. Trinity Square Gardens (1797; restored 2003)  has a beautiful memorial to the 24,000 merchant seamen lost in two word wars “Who have no grave but the sea”. There is a  memorial pavilion to WWI (by Sir Edward Lutyens)  and the memorial garden to WWII (by Sir Edward Maufe).

These are the Names... Trinity Square Gardens

Huge plaques bear the names of the ships and the men, the writing raised from the surface, tactile and alive, running on and on in huge saddening lists. Every so often  there is a poppy or a small wooden cross left by a loved one next to a name. They are stuck on with blu-tac and flutter poignantly in the faltering spring breeze. Some are faded and have slipped down from the name to which they were affixed. The plaques are separated by beautiful relief sculptures on sea-faring themes and the space is simple, calm and reflective. Really beautifully done. Opposite, the Tower looms and the Thames glitters.

There is something startling about the fact that that these gardens and the plush surrounding buildings cross two of London’s boroughs. The plush buildings are in the City of London, while the park itself is in Tower Hamlets. Here are two very contrasting boroughs (and the City really does contrast with everything around it) and you slip softly from one to another.

In the library, I found a fabulous quote about London by Henry James:

It is difficult to speak adequately or justly of London. It is not a pleasant place; it is not agreeable, or cheerful, or easy, or exempt from reproach. It is only magnificent.

From the window of the bus at Paddington, I saw a woman in a long dark fur coat, perhaps aged about sixty. She hurried along with a slightly care-worn look. She had no luggage, so I presume she lived locally. She seemed adrift and slightly out of time; a person one sees increasingly rarely almost as if they are disappearing from London. People like this fascinate me and have long been one of the things informing my writing: Who are they? What were they? What are they?

A couple of years ago I saw an exhibition at the Tate in Pimlico called How We Are: Photographing Britain. It affected me enormously, much more than I could have anticipated. The photographs therein not only form an important document of changing social history, but there, staring out at us, are faces and types of people that are disappearing and that we may never know again. I remember one series of photographs about a factory works outing from the 1950s, with lots of women lined up in front of the coach. There were fearsome matriarchs among them who had a look about them that was absolutely of the era and of their time. Not only are they almost certainly no longer alive, but these women as a particular type no longer exist.

An early(ish)  jaunt to the LSE to hear a lecture delivered as part of their Reading London event (Cities Programme). The event covered literature, social history and architecture in an attempt to ‘read’ and describe London.

The discussion covered land ownership in Bloomsbury, Christopher Wren (of course!) and how the metropolis has managed to develop, rather than sticking to any major plan. Along the way, we learnt about Wren’s great plan for London (it was all going to be so neat and orderly, apparently; I think London’s organic and somewhat haphazard development has been to its great credit. Imagine all those nooks and crannies being neatly ironed out and not being, well, nooks and crannies any more..). We also discovered that Peter Pan is set in Bloomsbury because Roget (of the Thesaurus)  once lived there and provided many a guiding light.

And then there was the news that the British Museum has some hidden doors in it (well, imagine if the dear BM didn’t hold such secrets). I have noted the locations of these and shall do some discreet prodding of walls next time I’m in there. Hope I don’t get thrown out.

I’ve lived here since 1992 and have never visited St Paul’s Cathedral (the Tower of London also makes that particular List of Shame…)

That changed today, after lunch on the South Bank with a friend. We decided to do upstairs first because that was closing at 16.00. There was a splendid climb to the Whispering Gallery, where we sat for a while, pondering the cathedral around us and looking up into the magnificent dome. Now, I’m not overly keen on great heights, although I’m better than I used to be. I persuaded myself to push on up to the Stone Gallery, and we stood looking out over the view, which is incredible. It was a very, very windy day, though. My friend continued up to the Golden Gallery and we met back up on the Stone Gallery before climbing back down to the Cathedral Floor and some coffee.

We got one-year passes for using our entry fee for Gift Aid, which is a great idea. So, we’ll be able to go back and explore the chapels and statues we didn’t see. And I’ll consider trying to get up to the Golden Gallery.

Organised by Hornsey Historical Society, this walk was advertised as part of the Harringay Food Festival. I walked to Green Lanes, along the Victorian streets, with their diamond-patterned paths and jumbly parked cars. My route took me past a local hotel (with its hilariously bad reviews).

About 40 people were on the walk, more than I had anticipated. This, and its location, led to moments of unintended hilarity. The organisers’ megaphone kept cutting out, leading to polite calls of “We can’t hear you!” from the back. The megaphone also whistled at inappropriate moments. Green Lanes is such a busy thoroughfare, that 40 people in a crowd are bound to have a problem making their way along the streets.

We learnt about Benjamin Disraeli and some aspects of the architecture along that section of the Harringay Ladder. Cars boomed out music and beeped their horns as they passed. There was a slight element of the school trip about proceedings as we were encouraged to walk carefully and allow others to pass. At one point, we were in an alleyway, looking up at a wrought iron fire escape high up in care-worn buildings off Green Lanes. A  man came out of a nearby door and asked: “Have they told you about the rats? We’ve lived here since the fifties and the rats are terrible!!” This was an hilarious interlude as he went on to complain about parking and general access to the flats.

Later in the walk, we went into the Ladder itself and along part of Haringey Passage. In these roads there were some Board Schools (originating before the 1902 Education Act, when local councils became responsible for organising education within local regions) and still in use as schools. I love these buildings; there’s a gorgeous one near to where I live.

So, the Food Festival is tomorrow. I will wander along and have a look. The booklet lists lots of food stalls and community stalls. Should be good fun.

Hampton Court Palace: not strictly London, but next door in Surrey. I decamped here yesterday with a pal for a bit of history. I’m not sure what my expectations were, but HCP far exceeded them. We started in the great kitchens with their flagstone floors and enormous fireplaces. Pots and baskets lay around with food in them for effect.

The Georgian apartments were splendid; cool long rooms with great windows overlooking the Knot Gardens with their stunning layout. Outside, the clipped trees in the Fountain Garden were satisfyingly fat. We ate part of our picnic near them, before exploring the  est of the gardens on that side and the herbaceous border.

As the afternoon moved on, we saw the Young Henry exhibition. I was chatting later with my father and we agreed that you never think of Henry VIII as a young man. Something else I’d either overlooked or forgotten from history lessons was that Katheryn of Aragon and HVIII were married for a long time and were a strong pair.

We  wandered around the Knot Gardens and saw the Pond Gardens and grapevine before finishing our picnic and having some wine. The gardens really are breathtaking, with a wonderful layout. And so on to the Maze. Excellent fun; we were one of the last to go in and did finally make our way out, after a few wrong turns on the way. An excellent slice of history and beauty. Fab day out.

Two teenage lads on the train home were putting stickers over the No Smoking signs. When they saw us looking over, they explained that they were spreading the love from the Gospel. Mmm’okay. I checked when they got off and sure enough there was a verse from Matthew on the stickers. Shows you can’t make assumptions, I suppose. Glad they didn’t try to convert us. They got off at New Malden with their stickers.