London – something from seaview

A London walk

I found myself in London last Sunday and at a loose end. “A loose end, in London?!” I hear you say. Well, yes. All my family and friends were otherwise engaged, and it was far too nice a day to be inside a museum or art gallery. An exceptionally beautiful day with piercing low winter sun, perfect for a walk – just icy, icy cold!

There is no doubt that London is a fabulous place to walk. Everywhere, at every spot, every corner, there is something or other interesting, if not beautiful, to see.

I caught a bus from Mornington Crescent (the 88, should you ask – that which remarkably my very proper grandmother would call the Bastard since it was always a tardy bus) and alighted at Westminster Abbey.Far too busy and crowded (and expensive – £20 to go in!!!) for me, so I walked on to Victoria Tower Gardens on the Embankment, through the respectable streets around the Abbey. They speak of another age. Ordinand House with its wonderful plaque of sheaves and fruit trees above the old entrance – perhaps speaking of the spiritual bounty the ordinands were expected to glean, or possibly marrying in with the road name, Abbey Orchard Street …Remembering my late mother-in-law, Betty, who was a strong supporter of the Mother’s Union as I walked past Mary Sumner House …The plaque marking Westminster Public Baths and Wash-houses is a memory of a far-forgotten time when people in this now-affluent part of Westminster did not all have their own proper washing facilities.A marvellously vivid illustration above this building of athletic swimmers and lithe divers promotes the facilities.I came out into the sunshine and trees of Victoria Tower Gardens, a small patch of green, right beside the Houses of Parliament and running along the Embankment and the River Thames. A freezing, freezing cold day, but this couple were taking their wedding photos here … interestingly, not with the Houses of Parliament or the Thames as their backdrop.No, this was their backdrop, looking further down the gardens to the Buxton memorial. Magical light and shade.Before I walked on to the Buxton statue, I had to pay proper respect to the wonderful Rodin sculpture of the Burghers of Calais which most appropriately sits right under the Houses of Parliament – a constant reminder to our politicians of Mercy, Courage, Dignity, Generosity, Altruism.

The original of this statue is, of course, in Calais. It marks the deliverance of the 6 Burghers of Calais from the rage of the English King Edward III (a ruthless king, if ever there was one). In 1347, his siege of Calais continued to the point where the citizens were starving. In desperation the Burghers offered their own lives to Edward, if he would spare the rest of the citizens of Calais. He agreed, and here are the noble and immensely courageous 6 Burghers. They are weary, beaten, hungry – starving actually. They have nooses round their necks, and the one on the right carries the enormous key to the town of Calais.

However, Edward’s Queen Philippa heard of their action and asked her husband to show mercy and spare these men. And he did!

These statues never fail to move me.Turning my back on Rodin’s statue, I walked along the embankment to another powerful landmark: the Buxton memorial. This little tower marks a defining point in history – the emanicipation of slaves in the British Empire in 1834. It was commissioned by Charles Buxton in memory of his father, Thomas Fowell Buxton, who along with Wilberforce, Macaulay, Brougham and Lushington fought for the abolition of slavery.

But this memorial means so much more to me than just historical interest – it takes me straight back to my childhood, when we would come and play here. Later on I used to bring my own children to come and play in this park. There are drinking fountains inside (or used to be – they don’t seem to work now), and we children had a lovely time running around and splashing here.Time to say goodbye to the beautiful beautiful Thames …And Lambeth bridge glimpsed through the trees before I turned down Horseferry Road to our little family home – of many, many years – in Maunsel Street …My father was a diplomat so he travelled all his working life, and, of course, his family travelled with him. But very early in my life, back from a stint abroad, they moved to a small house in a quiet little Westminster Street. In the ups and downs, and moves and travels, nothing is quite so evocatively stable in our family as this house. Maunsel Street.We arrived when I was eighteen months old, and before long I had a little sister.And in another couple of years, a little brother too. Although I love this picture of my mother looking through the front window at her chubby baby, I find it quite extraordinary that my mother would park the baby outside the house!Perhaps it was because there was no room inside? The house was teeny tiny for our growing family, and doubtless we all got on each other’s nerves at times. Probably best when we children played our games in the little garden at the back.There were family gatherings in the garden too. Here we all are, smartly turned out with the grandparents, for my brother’s christening in 1958.We were still there in 1962, in the freezing cold of the winter of the Big Freeze.Inside it was very cold too – no central heating, of course. My mother would turn the cooker on and leave the cooker door open to get heat into the icy little kitchen. They made us an indoor play space by covering over part of the outside yard. There was even a sandpit under that playpen. Judging by this photo, we appear to have played there happily and biddably, even though it was always cold. I remember that heater so well – indeed, I think it was only thrown out a few years ago. And those are my father’s geranium plants on the shelf.In later years my parents travelled abroad again for my father’s work and eventually settled in Kent. Our last time staying in the Maunsel street house as a family was when I was about 14, and it was a real squash with 4 big children. However, my step-grandfather’s early death meant my grandmother was looking for a smaller home so she came to live here when we left for Kent. She was a great gardener, and that is reflected in the photographs of her time there. No room for perambulators here now!!Through my teenage years and early twenties, I often stayed here with my grandmother. I look very smart, don’t I?! But, after all, I was staying with my grandmother …Other family members passed through – here are my father and brother en route for a French bicycling holiday in the 1970s …After my grandmother’s death in 1980, my youngest sister moved in and lived here for quite a long time. I would visit regularly from Devon with my two young children.There were children playing in the freezing cold conservatory sandpit again…Eventually she married and moved out, and another sister and her baby daughter moved in.Another child playing in the conservatory and garden – looks a bit warmer here, thank goodness!The garden is abundant and lush, quite different from what it was when we first lived there …And – suddenly – that was it. This little house had been a wonderful central London home for so many members of the family for so long, but there came a time when nobody wanted to live in it. So, with not a little sadness, in 1996, my father decided to sell it. Happy memories – ups and downs, of course. But happy memories.

Keeping us quiet as small children meant lots of walks. When we weren’t walking to Victoria Tower Gardens, we visited St James’ Park, so that is where I went next on my walk, rendezvousing with my sister.The park was absolutely at it’s best, looking magically beautiful. Icy, icy cold – if you look carefully you will see the birds are standing on the frozen lake.The highlight of our walk was the pelicans. Pelicans have been here since 1664, apparently a gift from a Russian Ambassador! They are very friendly, probably because they are also very greedy, and with lots of tourists about hope to get lovely treats. Which I expect they do – even though there are plenty of signs forbidding the feeding of them.Family photos record trips to the park in the 1950s. No London Eye in this photograph.In 1959 we visited the park with our fascinating and very dashing uncle. He had a Rolls Royce – oh, we thought him so cool (not, of course, the phrase we would have used then). Did he drive us all to the park in the car? I don’t remember, but I guess he must have. What amazes me is the casual way he has left the car in Birdcage Walk. We all crowded round to be part of the next photo., but judging by the expressions on our childish faces, we were a bit fed-up.Then we went off to feed the birds – looking a bit cheerier now …In later years, when staying with my younger sister with my small children, we would also come to St James’ Park to feed the birds …I walked on from the park up Clive Steps. Nothing says Empire like this. There is Robert Clive, commonly known as Clive of India, imposingly placed between these magnificent buildings of colonial rule.But stop – there’s something new here that I haven’t seen before. Justifiably surrounded by young tourists – because it’s a most touching and beautiful memorial, is this wonderful globe covered all over with doves of peace.The script on the circular stone behind explains. In memory of the 202 innocent people killed by an act of terrorism in Kuta on the Island of Bali, Indonesia on the 12th October 2002.Then on, up the Clive Steps, through King Charles Street. Here’s the entrance to the Foreign and Commonwealth Office where my father once worked.It’s not the same entrance, but here are my sister and I, having accompanied him one Saturday for some reason I forget, sitting outside the Foreign Office (as it was called in 1959).Farewell ancient memories, distant times! “The past is a foreign country.” The present beckons. Time to return to reality and walk on to Whitehall where I can catch a bus back to Mornington Crescent!

Another London visit

Just over a week ago I was in London – busy, bustling, exciting, varied – so much to see, so much to do. I love visiting London, love the excitement, the endless small details of interest, the big statements of serious important world-changing matters in one of the largest cities in the world.

A visit away is always unsettling – even the kits feel it. Eggy seems to think that if I can take Northumbrian heather to London, I could take her too.It was nominally a visit to see family and friends. To visit my nonagenarian mother (92!) in her Surrey nursing home …And sit in the autumn sun on the bench marking my father’s life …This London trip was different because both my children have moved to areas of London that I don’t know at all, and for one who hates using the Underground like me travel round London is always a challenge!

My daughter’s bedsit was the easier visit because it’s at Mornington Crescent, within walking distance of King’s Cross station where I’d arrived. These tall houses remind me strongly of those at Earls Court where I used to live in the 1970s. The building on the right in the photograph above is the back of the amazing Carreras Cigarette Factory (now the London headquarters of Asos).This is just the sort of the thing I love about London – the serendipity of discovering fascinating buildings, and architectural detailing everywhere. Black cats were part of the Carreras branding, and if you look carefully, you will see them right high up over the windows. I would love to see what it’s like inside.Her little flatlet allows for window sill picnics …And there’s just space for Mum to tog up before gadding about London.The highlight of my visit with Helen was a trip to the Victoria and Albert museum. I used to visit regularly, but for one reason and another haven’t been for many years. We are watching ITV’s Victoria which is a lot of fun even if I doubt some of the nineteenth century veracity. A major theme is Albert’s struggle for some sort of role, and with this in mind, I was amused to see on the entrance façade that Victoria is very much in the senior position. She – with orb and crown and sceptre – stands high over the entrance; Albert – a mere mortal – is far below over the main door.The great delight again with a museum such as the Victoria and Albert museum is the serendipitous treats all around. Look at the marvels of the design of the original building here – that stucco, those arches, a rotunda above – coupled with a magnificent mediaeval altarpiece – and to crown it all a striking piece of modern glass. So much good to see that you don’t really know where to start. I had it in mind to visit the glass gallery after reading LittleLollyTravels blogpost London Baby! some while ago. On the way to the glass we were seduced first by the tins …What a particularly desirable biscuit tin this one is!And then the metalwork … This fantastically snakey green wrought iron piece is a window grille from Castel Henriette, designed by Hector Guimard. Sadly, Castel Henriette has been demolished, but if you travel on the Paris Metro, you can see more of Guimard’s metal designs at some of the entrances. What chance that this lovely piece ended up in the V & A?!!
The glass gallery – when found – was indeed a treat. From the 1969 sculpture “Lollipop Isle”, designed by Oiva Toikka for Nuutajärvi glassworks …To the dawn of the twentieth century with these exquisite German drinking glasses (I posted this picture on Instagram and everybody declared the crocus glass on the left to be their favourite – I wonder which is yours?) …To the nine earlyish Egyptian or perhaps Iraqi fragments of glass, dated to sometime in the 7th – 12th centuries (this case contains lots of fascinating treasures, generally Middle Eastern glass, of the same period) I am blown away by the pattern on these glass fragments …Only a snapshot of what we saw, but there is really no way to justice to this remarkable museum.

My London travels then took me (very bravely by Underground – buses would have involved hours of travel) to Walthamstow where my son now lives. His cottagey terraced house couldn’t be more of a contrast to the mansions of Mornington Crescent. But nice detailing still mostly unspoilt (despite the conversions to modern windows), and I think William Morris would have approved. Walthamstow is very much William Morris’s place. What a way to improve a car park!He grew up in Water House, and this fine building is now the William Morris museum.Morris is intriguing because he defies fashion with an enduring appeal. He was enormously popular in his lifetime, of course. In my youth in the 1970s, he had a comeback, fitting in with the hippy vibe rather well. And now, he seems to be all the rage again – check out this article on New York Fashion week!

So, all the patterns are very familiar – either I’ve had furnishings made of them sometime in my life, or known someone who did. Part of the fun then in the museum was looking for old friends.

It was also intriguing to see how the designs were created. Here’s the Trellis design, both in its raw design state, and as a completed wallpaper print. We know this 1862 print as Morris’ first design for wallpaper, but, in fact, it was Philip Webb who drew the birds. Without them, Morris’ rose trellis would be somewhat lacking. I hadn’t realised how collaborative these designs were.Pleasing details in the museum included these oak drawers – beautiful smooth action, and look at those leather handles. I’m sure William Morris would have liked these.And I was glad to see the museum had fully exploited the fine patterns at its disposal with Morris prints decorating their very superior toilet facilities.The gardens of Water House are now a public park under the care of that rare species (nowadays) a park keeper.We decided that it was the work experience student who was helping with the planting earlier this year and that is why some beds are surrounded with silvery grey foliage and others are not.Like the visitor from Peru, I cannot praise this museum too highly – if you are in London, check it out!In complete contrast to the sumptuousness of the V & A and the William Morris Gallery, I paid a visit to the Wellcome Institute to see their Bedlam exhibition. I’ve been there several times before – it’s a most convenient gallery to visit if you have time spare while waiting for a train to leave King’s Cross railway station (just a little further up the Euston Road). There is a fascinating permanent collection of medical curiosities from the past, and some most interesting modelling of modern problems like obesity.

But I was there to see an exhibition on Bedlam, the infamous London mental asylum founded in the 1700s. Well – that was the starting point of the exhibition, but it continued to examine attitudes to mental health in the years up to the present, as well as focussing on art associated with mental health.

The exhibition was very crowded – lots of students making notes busily. By chance I became separated from my friend. People swirling round me as I looked and looked for a familiar face in the crowd. Suddenly, I realised how cleverly the exhibition was structured to give an impression of the helplessness of the inmates of an asylum. A deeply thought-provoking exhibition.Such a brief visit – lots of interest, company, catching up with family and dear friends. I have now returned to the big skies of a very autumnal Northumberland …Still plenty to do in the garden …The farmer and seagulls are busy too …Working long and late into the night …How incongruously different Northumberland seems from London!

London visit: home from home

I regularly visit London. It’s partly to see my two children who live there; sometimes I visit my sister and her family, and sometimes dear friends. But I also go to see London! – to see exhibitions, galleries, explore some part of London that I don’t know well, walk in the parks, shop. So much to see, so much to do!

I’ve lived there at various times during my life. My parents moved there when I was nearly 2 years old. They had a tiny little house in very central London, not far from my father’s work in the Foreign Office.

This was in the early 1950s so London was still recovering from the war – a lot of bomb-damaged sites, seeded with the bright yellow of wild ragwort. I loved to balance on the low ruined walls, holding my father’s hand, as he walked me to kindergarten on his way to work. Sometimes he took my sister, Marian (on the right in this picture) and me to his office nearby in King Charles St. (King Charles Street is close to Downing Street, and I don’t think you could casually walk up to the Foreign Office front door any longer as both streets are now gated off.)My parents didn’t stay in London long, so my next stop there was in the 1970s, when I had finished at university. I shared the top floor flat in one of these imposing Earl’s Court houses with two other girls. By this time, London was a much more multi-cultural city. Earl’s Court was known as a particularly Australian back-packer haunt. It’s busy main street was full of money exchange shops so visitors from all over the world hung out there.Through the years, as I’ve lived in Kent, Oxford, Devon and now Northumberland, I’ve travelled back to London regularly. These days my visits are focussed on my children’s homes in North London, and I’ve had to learn my way round parts of London I’d never visited before.

I used to get panic attacks in the underground, so my journeys around London are almost entirely by bus. But what a lot you see from the top deck of a London bus!

Here is my journey starting on the Saturday in Crouch End. We are heading into central London, to the British Museum.I am struck – as ever – by how green London is – trees, parks, gardens, all gloriously green.Even London’s traditional red buses are sometimes green.And, what also stands out amidst the greenery is the amount of building work going on. There’s a lot of money at work here. (The affluence of London is particularly striking to one coming from the more impoverished north of England.)I’m fascinated by the glimpses of old London amidst the hustle and bustle of modern ways. The fine old painted sign on shabby shops 319 and 321 remains to tell us that they once sold Scales, Weights and Weighing Machines. Nowadays there is a Massage Parlour, Nail Bar and Computer Centre – all a sign of the times. Our forebears wouldn’t have recognised any of these businesses.Here, they have kept the façade of the fine old building with the new building just behind – can you see? Contrast this with evidence of modern multicultural London. That sign over the doorway is written in the Amharic script. Remarkably (to me), each character represents a consonant and a vowel. What a riotous explosion of colour on what must have once been a pretty dull building!I always look out for these caryatids on St. Pancras New Church. They have been patiently supporting the roof since the 1820s.The British Museum is busy, busy, busy. It’s an old friend. I’ve been marvelling at this imposing, pedimented façade for a long time.But the interior is new – and so exciting. This rotunda inside the Great Court is a work of genius, and the roof is just wonderful.So much to see, but we mustn’t get distracted. We’ve come to see the British Museum’s Indigenous Australia: enduring civilisation exhibition.Luckily, it wasn’t too crowded so we were able to enjoy the exhibition comfortably. We were asked not to photograph, and articles that I have read since explain that some of the owners of the material have been quite specific about this, even asking that parts of some artifacts be concealed from visitors’ eyes. So, I am only reproducing images that have appeared in newspapers or on postcards.

It’s a very powerful and disturbing exhibition – if I were to define it in a couple of words I would speak of loss and dignity. There are objects of great beauty and fascination, but there is no more reason now why they should sit in the British Museum than the Elgin Marbles or the Assyrian carvings. Indeed, it’s worse than that because many of these objects still have significant cultural value to the indigenous peoples of Australia.

To the credit of the curator, Gaye Sculthorpe, and her team, they have taken four years to prepare for this exhibition, and consulted widely with the Aboriginal people, respecting their wishes in the display of materials. I think they deal honestly with some very difficult issues.

Take this shield, probably collected at Botany Bay during Captain Cook’s 1770 visit. For the Aboriginal peoples, it is a symbol of attack and invasion, for Cook and the colonists it was a foundational treasure.

There were the Dreaming paintings that have so attracted Westerners to Aboriginal art. These modern acrylic paintings are by Spinifex people (the upper painted by four men, and the lower by six women) and tell a bitter story. They are the Spinifex peoples’ record of the land from which they were ousted in the 1950s and 60s so that the British and Australian governments might test atomic weapons there.A fine turtle shell, shell and fibre mask from Mer, an island in the Torres Straits. It’s thought to be older than 1855, and is typical of much of the collection that the British Museum holds in that it was donated by the Lords of Admiralty. How did the Lords of Admiralty come to own it, one wonders? Through conflict? greed? scientific research? gift? All part and parcel of Britain’s murky involvement in Australia’s past. It is said that the material on show is just a tiny percentage of what the British Museum actually holds in its Oceania and Australia collections. Hmm – what would the British Museum be if it started to return some of its holdings?Modern basketware (2010), made of plant fibre and wool by Yuwali (also know as Janice Nixon). I love this piece – can it be that it is untainted by the dismal colonial story?!! Oh, I hope so. I found myself longing for some salvation from the miserable exploits of the colonial Brits.

And I came home with this. The Spinifex ladies’ painting transfers wonderfully well to artefact, and it’s a lovely bag – with a powerful back story.

There’s no doubt that it’s a very interesting exhibition. I learned a great deal, and – in the face of all the criticism that Indigenous Australia: enduring civilisation has drawn – that’s very important.

Just suppose we were to turn the tables and someone made the discovery that some Northumbrian Rock Art was lurking in a Sydney museum? and what’s more a Viking-like marauding party massacred, raped and pillaged this local material away?

Time for something lighter!

I wanted to buy fabric, and when I was younger, you could buy fine materials in Liberty’s and John Lewis. So thither we went.So disappointing! Liberty’s is such a fine store – such a visual delight. But honestly, what rubbish they sell! Colossally expensive really quite ordinary items (shopping bags in the pic below), so I guess they are mainly interested in the tourist market. As for fabric – well, they do sell their lovely Tana Lawn prints, but that’s pretty well all the fabric they sell now.So to John Lewis.If you could count on anywhere selling fabric, surely it would be John Lewis! They do still sell fabric, but their stock doesn’t cover almost the entire ground floor (as it used to). It’s a miserable little aisle on the fourth floor. Not what I wanted there either.But we did get lunch in the little restaurant overlooking Cavendish Square. (More London greenery, though the grass is looking very parched, badly in need of heavy rain.)Now, I’m lunching here with my daughter, but I well remember lunching here with my mother when she brought me to John Lewis to buy terry towelling nappies before my babes were born. Of a whim, I looked for nappies today, but could I find nappies for sale – No! (Sic transit gloria mundi!)There is consolation: Helen knows where to go for my fabric. Why Soho’s Berwick Street is the place! (I love it!! After all, I’m hailing from Berwick-upon-Tweed these days! And as ever, I’m fascinated by the buildings – look at the detailing under the parapet on the taller building!)There are lots of fabric shops in Berwick Street, but Borovick is the excellent little shop where I finally find some fabric that I’m pleased with.Time to head back to Helen’s home. They still haven’t removed the tacky bum-flaunting fairy over the doorway. I rather think it’s going to stay there for a very long time ….One of her cats is particularly pleased to see that I’ve brought some seedlings with me because there’s several small catnip plants hidden deep in the pot.This is Tottenham’s Tower Gardens, and when I first visited I was struck by the quality of these little homes. Look at the detailing on the brickwork, the finely-shaped chimneys – and the simple decorative details over the windows.

In the late 1890s, £10,000 was donated for the purchase of this land by jewelry magnate, Samuel Montagu. Homes were to be built to rehouse Jewish workers, then living in the crowded conditions of Tower Hamlets in London’s East End (whence the name: Tower Gardens).

The chief architect was William Riley. He was a member of the Art Workers Guild which had been founded in 1884 and was an offshoot of the Arts and Crafts movement. All the details – tree planting, brickwork etc show this influence.It’s a conservation area, but disapppointingly poorly implemented. Look at the changes somebody’s made to this house! Weirdly out of context, but it’s somebody’s home and no doubt they love it.Sadly, modern living (satellite dishes and rubbish bins) don’t improve the look of these charming houses.Then I was grabbed by the names. Where on earth does Waltheof come from (see the sign on the building beside Rose Supermarket below)?!

What a strange small world. This was Northumbrian land. Waltheof appears in the Domesday book of 1086. He was the son of Gosparic, Earl of Northumberland. The local football team is Tottenham Hotspur (remember the Duke of Northumberland’s son, Harry Hotspur, in Shakespeare’s Henry IVth?)

Now it’s a vibrant multi-cultural area as this mini-mart on the edge of the estate testifies. (But first look at the detail of the window in the roof). Rose Supermarket caters for English, Turkish, Greek, African and Caribbean tastes. Wow!Before long it’s time to go back to Berwick-upon-Tweed and Northumberland. My heart is always warmed by the sight of King’s Cross Station. Such a simple, magnificent statement with the strong lines of those huge arches, and the mellow tones of London brick. Stephen prefers St. Pancras station next door. What a contrast in architecture!!

The fact that these two important London train stations sit next to each other is a reminder of their history. King’s Cross was built by the Great Northern Railway company in 1852 (designed by Lewis Cubitt), and St. Pancras, serving the Midlands and Yorkshire, was built a few years later (1868) for the Midland Railway company. The famous frontage on the Euston road (which you see in the picture below) was actually the former Midland Grand Hotel, designed by George Gilbert Scott.

I wonder which you prefer?Never mind – we’re going to the north-east, so it’s King’s Cross for us. Just look at this wonderful ceiling in the revamped and extended station building. I think Lewis Cubitt would be well pleased by what they’ve done to update his station.