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At the Hoop & Grapes

February 18, 2011
by the gentle author

David Milne (curator at Dennis Severs’ House in Folgate St) took me along to the Hoop & Grapes in Aldgate for a drink yesterday, revisiting a special haunt that he was introduced to by Dennis Severs back in the nineteen eighties.

We walked together from Spitalfields up through Petticoat Lane until we arrived at the busy junction in Aldgate where traffic careers in every direction.“This was the major road in and out of London and it would always have been as full of people as it is now.” said David, as he peered down the road towards Whitechapel, wrinkling his brow to imagine centuries of travellers, before fixing his gaze directly across the road at three of the last remaining timber frame buildings surviving from before the fire of London. The central building, squeezed between its neighbours like a skinny waif sat between two fat people on a bus, was the Hoop & Grapes.

It is the oldest licensed house in the City, built in 1593 and originally called The Castle, then the Angel & Crown, then Christopher Hills, finally becoming the Hoop & Grapes – referring to the sale of both beer and wine – in the nineteen twenties. The first impression when you turn your back on the traffic to enter, is of the appealingly crooked Tudor frontage with sash windows fitted in the seventeen twenties at eccentric angles, and of two ancient oak posts guarding the entrance, each with primitive designs of vines incised upon them.

Stepping through the heavy door patched together over centuries, the plan of the narrow house is still apparent even though the partition walls have been removed. A narrow passageway ran ahead down the left of the building with small rooms leading off to the right, a structure which is revealed today by the placing of the beams in the ceiling and the bulges in the wall where the fireplaces in each room have been sealed up. Opening to your left is the bar, where the premises have expanded into the next house and to the back is flagged floor next to the largest chimney breast in a space that was a kitchen in the sixteenth century.

David and I enjoyed the privilege of access to the cellar where the landlady led us through a sequence of narrowing brick vaults built in the thirteenth century, until we reached the front of the building where she pointed out an old iron hook in the ceiling, held back by a lead catch. “No-one knows what this was for,” she admitted, prompting David to look down at his feet where a metal cover was set into the floor.“There was a well beneath,” he said, speculating,“the Aldgate pump was not far from here and the water table is high.” Then the landlady released the hook to hang vertical and it hung directly over the centre of the cover, perfect for hauling up a bucket. We all exchanged a smile of triumph at solving the puzzle, and stood together to appreciate this rare medieval space, essentially unchanged since Elizabeth I met Mary Tudor fifty yards away at Aldgate in 1553.

Upstairs, the landlady pointed out the site of a listening tube, centuries old yet covered over when a speaker system was fitted recently. This tube enabled whoever was in the cellar to hear what was spoken in the bar and vice versa. David believes it was used in the days of Oliver Cromwell by the landlord, who was in the pay of the authorities, to eavesdrop upon conspirators who chose this pub just outside the City gate for illicit liaisons, and there is no doubt that – thanks to the sparse renovations – once you have been here for a while you can begin to imagine the picture.

We sat down at the quiet corner table next to the crooked window with our drinks. “Dennis and I had this way of looking at things and making it more than it is,” confessed David to me with a contemplative affectionate smile “and that’s what we called ‘the theatre of life’. I used to come and visit him, and we’d go for walks around Spitalfields and end up here for a pint. We were looking for what remains – the signposts to the great City of old –  the street that ran down to the City of London was full of houses like this. We would sit here and create a story about the merchants who lived in these ancient houses.”

In this no-man’s land between the City and Whitechapel, the Hoop & Grapes is a reliably peaceful place to go where just a few commuters drop in for a pint and tourists rarely appear – because it does not readily declare its history. Yet time gathers here in the stillness of this modest Tudor building – constructed atop a medieval foundation with eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth century accretions – while the world rushes past as it always has done.

Through his house in Folgate St, Dennis Severs’ reinvented the way that historic buildings are presented. When David Milne came here with Dennis Severs thirty years ago, all that was in the future, and today more than ten years after his death, David is one of those who maintains Dennis Severs’ creation. “He was a remarkable man,” confided David, as we took our leave of the Hoop & Grapes, “and now this place is a signpost to my past with him.”

David Milne first came here with Dennis Severs thirty years ago.

The thirteenth century cellars.

An ancient hook above the well in the cellar.

Two venerable oak posts carved with vines guard the door, and sash windows added in the seventeen twenties sit within a crooked sixteenth century structure.

An insurance plate from 1782 still adorns the frontage.

The three sixteenth century timber frame houses in Aldgate, predating the fire of London which came within fifty yards. The house on the right was refaced in brick in the eighteenth century.

Photograph of the Hoop & Grapes in the nineteen fifties copyright © Bishopsgate Institute

You may also like to read about

Sandra Esqulant at the Golden Heart

At the Grapes in Limehouse

At the Ten Bells

At the Carpenter’s Arms

Other Dennis Severs’ House stories

Isabelle Barker’s Hat

Simon Pettet’s Tiles

Dennis Severs’ Menagerie

Mick Pedroli, Manager at Dennis Severs’ House

David Milne, Curator at Dennis Severs’ House

The House of Silence

13 Responses leave one →
  1. Ana permalink
    February 18, 2011

    This blog is so much better than any tourist leaflet. I’ve bookmarked this site so I can return to it upon any future journeys out of my country. I love it when places stand the test of time.

  2. February 18, 2011

    What a wonderful post! I have always loved the tumble-down look of the Hoop & Grapes, slumped at the city’s edge between all the glass, steel and stone.
    However I think the plaque is not an insurance mark but a Parish boundry mark – in this case the edge of the Parish of St Botolph’s Aldgate (Old Father Baldpate).
    Incidentally, although a relatively recent moniker it seems for this particular establishment, the hoop entwined by grape vines is a symbol for a tavern since ancient times – I believe that such a sign exists (or existed) at Pompeii!

  3. February 18, 2011

    A great post – this is one of those places I’ve walked past numerous times and never given any thought to before, I will now!

  4. paul permalink
    February 18, 2011

    I love the simple evocative photograph from the 50′s with a ‘city girl’ contemplating lunch, perhaps an off-ration chop at 1/3d and jam roly-poly at 4d with custard, but what I love most is that battered old bin that really was for dust and ashes, residue of the fires that warm the mid-day suppers as they huddle ’round with their ales and chat and draw on their gaspers.
    I see the ghost of the dustman, the coalman the rag and the bone man, I hear their faint cries and the sound of a dray. I feel for a lost thrupence in the lining of my coat but it’s not there, it’s gone.

  5. February 18, 2011

    oh yes i do fancy a pint.

  6. February 19, 2011

    thanks, this is beautiful, guiding us on a timeship

  7. TokyoDon permalink
    April 15, 2011

    Thanks for yet another cracking post.

  8. helen burgess permalink
    July 13, 2014

    im very proud to say that my Grandad used to be the Landlord of this pub in the 50s & 60s ..

  9. Olive chetland permalink
    August 25, 2015

    I was manager of this pub in 1965. It had been closed before we moved in as it had been renavated . It was made safe and a speacial fire escape was installed from all the rooms.
    In the old cellar the barralls was on the old stills, there were also the old lug holes in the cellar ceiling so you could listen to what was going on in the bar above. I always thought the pub was haunted and we had several funny thing happen while we lived there. It sounds like it has been done up several times since I was there.

  10. September 22, 2015

    My Nan lived in Marlow Flats (now called Marlow house) just off Calvert Ave. Used to go down the Lane and buy Bagels and take them up to her and we would have lunch together on a Sunday morning. I’m talking about 1958/59.

  11. Helen Burgess permalink
    June 28, 2016

    My grandad Alec Saunders and Nan Phyllis used to run the pub in the 50′s and 60′s. My mum was born there.

  12. Lewis Owens permalink
    July 30, 2016

    Fascinating article. Thank you! I would like to contact both Olive Chetland and Helen Burgess (commenters on this page) for a book I am writing. Can you help in any way? Many thanks, Lewis Owens

  13. December 9, 2016

    1 LITTLE SOMERSET STREET (STILL & STAR PUBLIC HOUSE) is under threat of demolition you must help preserve this street and one of the most unique pubs in London under threat of demolition just near the hoop and grapes 16/00406/FULMAJ for the planning application

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