Good Morning

I am glad too hear you have won the court case.

We are in harrow the worst borough and they are rules to them selves.

I wanted help with a problem please advice thanks.

I cannot look at nor read about the photos up above today – it is far too upsetting
to know of the DESTRUCTION that is happening to our wonderful Historic City.
I have signed and signed so many pieces of paper to add my say to PUT a STOP
to the APPALLING Continuing Threat. I HOPE that You dear People who were
able to HOLD HANDS around the Precaious Peremiter can bring about some SUCCESS.
GOOD ON YOU ALL – If I had Not Been Ill, I TOO would have been there.

I spent my first five years there you see, having been born across the road in the London…

Nowadays, I live in North Devon but on Friday of last week I had reason to visit the London for the first time in the 61 years since my birth and the area for the first time since the last Batham/Davies/Morris/Bailey died out some 30 years ago. My mobility isn’t so good but I managed to visit the old addresses – Old Ford Road, Brady Street, Vallance Road – and those of granddad’s pubs that are still standing. I was, apparently, taken around each of the neighbourhood pubs as a newborn for half-a-crown to wet the baby’s ‘ed as my granddad, Reg Davies, was a well known punter in each.

I knew, of course, that Pelham no longer stood because they moved my nan out in the 70’s to Mile End – she thought it was the end of the world and hated it – for the final demolition. I didn’t know about it being a squat and it’s final demise. I would love it if somebody – Terry Fitzpatrick? – could point me towards the history of the buildings, both early and late. My visit to my ‘home’ wrought such emotion in me that I’m copying and pasting for you here what I wrote on my FB page:

So yesterday I went home. I mean home home, to the East End. And I missed my mum and dad so bad because I was surrounded by their stories. I spent my first 5 years just off Brick Lane in Whitechapel, having been born at the London Hospital. No Royal in those days. No, just a run down cockney hospital populated by run down cockney people. It did good for itself, became a world leader but beneath it’s posh new facade it’s kept the old arches and steps on Whitechapel High Street, to remind itself of its beginnings. My mum sat on those steps when she reached term because she was terrified of going into labour and having me at home alone. Perhaps it was these stories that made me the midwife I became.

Beneath my well-educated, intelligent persona, you will find the poor scared little cockney girl. Just like the hospital in which I was born, scratch the surface and you will find our roots. And yesterday, as never before, I was reminded of them and I am oh so proud of them.