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At Paul Kirby’s Foam Shop

February 20, 2017
by the gentle author

Near the top of Brick Lane, where it peters out into Bethnal Green, stands a lone house of mystery – accompanied by the gnarled stump of an old plane tree. Entirely at odds with the bland redevelopment that surrounds it, this edifice is unapologetic in its utilitarian idiosyncrasy and, when the windows glow at dusk on a rainy night, it possesses a magical allure which fascinates me. This is Paul Kirby’s foam shop.

For years, Paul Kirby has held out bravely against the “regeneration” that razed every other building in sight, and has emerged triumphant as the proud custodian of the last weaver’s house in the neighbourhood – built in the eighteenth century and incorporating a ship’s window into the frontage. “There’s been quite a lot of pressure to knock it down, but I took the council to court and won the case!” declared Paul in jubilant satisfaction, clasping his hands as he rocked back and forth in his easy chair.

You walk right in off the street into Paul’s workshop which occupies the entire ground floor of 74 Swanfield St, and is crammed with foam of every colour and description. On the left of this foam-lover’s paradise is the well-worn cutting board and, on the right, the tethered rolls of foam wait eager to spring into spongy life, while the space between is stacked with foam cushions – including a cherished Charles & Diana wedding souvenir foam cushion which, in astonishing testimony to Paul’s foam shop, has kept its bounce far longer than the ill-fated marriage ever did. And at the centre of all this foam sits Paul in his pork pie hat, a proud Englishman at home in his castle.

“I wouldn’t ever leave the East End now,” confided Paul, whose origins are in Mauritius, “I’ve got used to living in the bustling of Bethnal Green with all the cosmopolitans here. They looked down on foreigners when I first came to London in 1953 and it was hard to get a job or a room. Those were the darkest days, but I had some Jewish friends round here. It was a nice place to live, I loved it. It was elegant. I got a room in Code St off Brick Lane for fifty pence a week, from there I bought a lorry and started my own transport business.

Paul was conscripted into the British Army at eighteen years old from his home in Mauritius in 1950. When his mother died unexpectedly while he was in the forces, Paul was adopted by his commanding officer, who subsequently became Brigadier Kirby, and he returned to live in Britain with his new stepfather.

“I stayed with them in Hastings but it was difficult to get a job there, so he wrote me a letter which I took to a company in London and I got a job right away. Then he retired to St Austell in Cornwall and bought a Tudor house, where I used to visit at weekends. Although I was the only black man in St Austell, I had a lovely time. How people treated me there – it was unbelievable! When I got on the bus, they wouldn’t take money off me. They said, ‘Soldiers don’t pay!’

When I first came from Mauritius I was very fascinated by English furniture, especially Chesterfields, and I thought, ‘I’d like to make one of those.’ I’ve always been interested in furniture, so I studied upholstery. Since 1958 until now, I have been involved with upholstery, mostly lounge suites and I’ve made many Chesterfields.

In the sixties, I worked for the owner of this place. They manufactured reproduction furniture and I was their driver. There were scraps of fabric left over and they gave them to me. I asked the two machinists to make up cushion covers which I filled with scrap  foam from the floor. And I took them down the market in Brick Lane on a Sunday and sold them for fifty pence each. And I made £20 each weekend and we shared it between us, which was pretty good when you realise that wages were only £8 a week.

I bought a two up/two down house in Bethnal Green, with no bathroom and an outside toilet, for £300. Then, in 1968, the furniture business moved to bigger premises so the boss asked me to run the shop for £8 a week. To start with, I sold secondhand furniture, wardrobes and things, and I just opened on Sunday because that was the only day people were walking about.

In the nineteen-seventies, we had a lot of problems with the National Front. Every weekend, there’d be marches and so on. I used to open up my house for the police to use the toilet because there’d be six bus loads of them waiting outside in case of trouble. I was in the middle of it because I was selling Union Jack cushions and some people asked me to stop selling them as it was a symbol adopted by the National Front, but I am an ex-army man and proud to be a citizen of the United Kingdom. It was not a nice time.

Around 1976, I started repairing furniture, recovering old three piece suites and reselling them, then in 1988 I took the place over and moved in and stayed ever since – but now I can’t compete with the big furniture warehouses, so I just do a bit of repair and sell foam, cushions and suchlike to local people. I have another home but I often stay here when I am working late, and most of my neighbours know me by my first name.”

Actively employed at eighty-three, Paul Kirby is now among the few who remember when Bethnal Green and Shoreditch were full of cabinet and furniture makers. And Paul has such a relaxed nature that his foam shop is an attractive place to linger to enjoy the peace and quiet, as if the very fabric of the building has now absorbed his personality – or as if the vast amount of foam insulates against the outer world, absorbing discord.

The recipient of kindness, Paul greets everyone who comes through the threshold with an equal generosity of spirit. You can be guaranteed of a welcome and a smile, as long as you have not come to knock down this venerable weaver’s house in the name of “regeneration” – because, after half a century, Paul and his building are one.

Paul Kirby

The mysterious allure of Paul Kirby’s foam shop at dusk

You may also like to read about other craftmen in Shoreditch

Maurice Franklin, Wood Turner

Ainsworth  Broughton, Upholsterer

13 Responses leave one →
  1. Jim McDermott permalink
    February 20, 2017

    Well done, Mr Kirby, for resisting the Council creatures. This gentleman should be in the Honours List for services to British heritage

  2. February 20, 2017

    Well done Paul Kirby!

  3. February 20, 2017

    I’m so glad Paul saved that wonderful house, what a treasure – and what a strong man, full of insight. Good luck Paul! Valerie

  4. February 20, 2017

    A wonderful life and the East End is all the more richer for it.

  5. February 20, 2017

    A heartwarming bio of a decent, hard working man with a wonderful history of his own.

    When I first looked at the photo of the house, I thought wow a really old house and one which struck me more so as it looked out of place in the utilitarian urban street. So amazing it still stands in a London that constantly redevelopes with scant concern for history outside
    Tourist hot spots and upmarket Georgian squares.

    I hope there is preservation order on this property to help it survive when Paul retires. A real example of London’s workingife past and present. It must be preserved. The fact it looks out of place makes it all the more important.

  6. Milo Bell permalink
    February 20, 2017

    Wonderful story, great house, lovely bloke. One of my favourites of recent times.

  7. Richard permalink
    February 20, 2017

    Lovely man, lovely house.

  8. Sheila Crowson permalink
    February 20, 2017

    A lovely story. Glad the owner has held out against the avaricious developers. Love the windows. Hope the house lasts for many more years to give pleasure to passersby.

  9. Yvonne M permalink
    February 20, 2017

    Well Done Mr. Kirby! You have a lovely and historic building, with a very individual style. Such an improvement on the bland concrete and glass they build today. I am so pleased that you won your fight.

  10. John Campbell permalink
    February 20, 2017

    What a fascinating and inspirational chap. Well done Paul!

  11. gary arber permalink
    February 20, 2017

    There is a building for you to protect G.A., it should be listed to stop the development vandals buying it and knocking it down.
    That was an achievement to reach the rank of brigadier in the army at that time !
    Gary Arber

  12. Phyllis permalink
    February 21, 2017

    “including a cherished Charles & Diana wedding souvenir foam cushion which, in astonishing testimony to Paul’s foam shop, has kept its bounce far longer than the ill-fated marriage ever did.”….omg this is why I so L-O-V-E this blog

  13. September 17, 2020

    I foam at the mouth with envy every time I pass this wonderful little treasure.
    Well done Mr Kirby, I hope there’s someone to inherit and protect this gem when you retire to your memory foam for a well earned rest.

    Best wishes,
    David Percival

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