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Today I publish a selection from Peta Bridle’s exhibition London Day by Day which opens tomorrow, September 3rd, at Southwark Cathedral and runs until 14th October. The show takes its title from Geoffrey Fletcher’s former weekly newspaper column as a tribute to the peripatetic artist who inspired Peta’s own travels with a sketchbook in the capital.

At Turnips, Borough Market

‘The beautiful and diverse mushroom varieties on display at Turnips, the greengrocers under the railway arches, resemble a vast edible work of art. At the heart of the Borough Market, where trains rumble overhead, Turnips are celebrated for their spectacular epic displays of pristine specimens of the best fruit and vegetables of the season.’

Southwark Cathedral Society of Bellringers

I was fortunate enough to be allowed to visit with my sketchbook to watch bell ringing practice at the cathedral. I discovered that the ancient tower has twelve bells and whilst the bells are being rung the walls shake ever so slightly.

View over Tower Bridge, Southwark

‘This is my elevated view over Tower Bridge from Butler’s Wharf, looking across the Thames to the City beyond. You can see pedestrians walk along the busy Thames path in Potters Field below and in the distance sits Norman Foster’s City Hall, strategically placed to face the Tower of London on the north bank, the former home of the Greater London Assembly and Mayor of London.’

Forgotten Streams, City of London

‘This beautiful bronze sculpture traces the path of the river Walbrook that once flowed from Shoreditch through the City of London. I enjoyed the contrast of ancient lost river in the foreground with the grand City buildings in the background, while in between the three workmen eat their lunches.

Looking East Over Spitalfields

‘Far below, a man leans against a bollard in Puma Court while, to the right, the rooftops of Fournier St meet Brick Lane Mosque and the former Warner Bell Foundry chimney beyond. At the end of Puma Court is Wilkes St with chimney stacks and weavers’ lofts, while to the left a lone figure walks down Princelet St towards Brick Lane. In the distance, Spitalfields’ old terraces meet the towers of Whitechapel.’

Rodney Archer’s Window Sill, Spitalfields

‘Celebrated aesthete Rodney Archer moved to Fournier St in 1984 and lived in his old beautiful house until his death in 2015. I visited his home only once, but I had the pleasure of meeting Rodney and drawing these plants on the window sill.’

St Andrew Undershaft, St Mary Axe

‘St Andrew’s was built in 1532 on the site of an earlier twelfth century church and its name refers to the tall maypole nearby. The church survived the Great Fire and the Blitz only to be hemmed in by huge towers today including the glittering bulk of the Gherkin which looms overhead, offering a powerful contrast of old and new, tightly packed together. The first historian of London, John Stow, is buried in the church and every three years a memorial service is held when a new quill placed in the hand of his figure upon his monument.’

Word On The Water, Regent’s Canal

‘This is a floating bookshop housed inside a twenties’ Dutch barge near Granary Sq at King’s Cross. New and used books are displayed for sale on shelves, both up on deck and below. Inside there are comfortable sofas where you can sit and read while viewing ducks swimming past at eye level. When I sat on the towpath to make this drawing, a trumpeter played jazz up on deck.’

Ragged School Museum, Mile End

‘This is the view from across the Regent’s Canal. The school was opened by Dr Barnardo in 1877 to provide education for children in Mile End and is now a museum, showing to visitors the reality of Victorian life for the poor. I took my son to visit and on the wall was a collection of photographs of pupils from the nineteenth century, one of whom was a young girl with Downs syndrome. My son has this condition and he thought it was a picture of him so I explained to him it was a little girl who lived a long time ago who had once attended the school.’

Coal Drops Yard, King’s Cross

‘Coal Drops Yard was once the goods yard storing coal arriving from the north by rail, but in 2018 the place was transformed with old buildings repurposed into shops and restaurants, new homes built within the gasometers and the warehouses converted into a home for Central St Martin’s College of Art. Regent’s Canal winds around the side of the yard, separating it from the station and the nature reserve to the west.’

Alexandra Palace Boating Lake

‘The boating lake at Alexandra Park in North London was created in the 1870s by damming a stream that ran down the western boundary of the park. Filled with novelty pedal boats, the lake was intended to evoke a Venetian carnival. It gained national media attention in 1992 when rumour spread of a massive, four-foot-long pike inhabiting the waters and allegedly swallowing ducks whole.’

Nelson Dry Dock, Rotherhithe

‘To reach Nelson Dry Dock involves walking through thick soft mud. Engineers Mills & Knight Ltd Ship Repairs is painted in bold red capital letters around the yellow wrought iron gate. The dock closed in 1968 and now sits within a hotel complex but you only get this view from the foreshore or the water when you are up to your ankles in mud.’

St Augustine’s Tower, Hackney

‘This is the oldest building Hackney, built by the Knights Templar in 1292. When you climb to the top of St Augustine’s Tower there are wonderful views across Hackney towards the City. Far below, I saw a bus turning on to Mare St which is always busy with shoppers and a beggar sheltering under the railway bridge.’

Hodge the Cathedral Cat, Southwark Cathedral

‘Here is the magnificent Hodge the Cat, mouser-in-chief and resident feline at the cathedral. He has lodged himself into the wicker basket intended for service sheets. Hodge was a stray, rescued from the streets of south-east London and taken to a cat sanctuary where he was adopted by the cathedral on December 6th, which is St. Nicholas’s day when traditionally gifts are exchanged. Southwark Cathedral is a welcoming place to visit and you might even catch a glimpse of a small black and white cat whilst there…’

Drawings copyright © Peta Bridle

Peta Bridle’s London Day By Day is at Southwark Cathedral, London Bridge, SE1 9DA, until 14th October

You may also like to take a look at

Peta Bridle’s Gravesend Sketchbook

Peta Bridle’s New Etchings

Peta Bridle’s Latest Drypoint Etchings

Peta Bridle River Etchings

Seventeen years ago this week, I began to publish a daily post in these pages. In this year’s annual report I have both good news and bad news, as you will read below. One concerns the fate of the Truman Brewery while the other is the announcement of Sarah Ainslie’s WOMEN AT WORK.

TRUMAN BREWERY

I regret to report that the Secretary of State has approved redevelopment of the Truman Brewery into a corporate plaza and data centre as the outcome of the Public Inquiry last autumn overseen by Government Inspector Paul Griffiths. I did not have a good feeling about this since he also oversaw the Public Inquiry into the Whitechapel Bell Foundry that decided in favour of a bell-themed boutique hotel. The pitiful disappointment is that Tower Hamlets Council created a Community Masterplan for the site to deliver 350 homes for local people as opposed to the Brewery proposal which includes only six social homes. This Masterplan could have been enforced by the Inspector but instead it was discounted. The Save Brick Lane campaign and Spitalfields Trust are now considering a legal challenge.

WOMEN AT WORK

Thanks to the support of you – the readers of Spitalfields Life – who contributed to our crowdfund in the spring, our plan to publish a handsome hardback monograph of Sarah Ainslie’s East End portraits WOMEN AT WORK has come to fruition.

Publication will be accompanied by an exhibition of Sarah’s portraits at Four Corners photography gallery in Bethnal Green, opening in November then touring through 2027 to two other venues in East London and the Alcove women’s library in Rhode Island.

You can help publication by preordering now and we will post you a copy signed by Sarah Ainslie at the beginning of November in advance of publication on 5th November. Additionally, we are including a complimentary copy of Journal of a Man Unknown (cover price £10) with all pre-orders in the United Kingdom.

CLICK HERE TO PRE-ORDER ‘WOMEN AT WORK’ AND GET A FREE COPY OF ‘JOURNAL OF A MAN UNKNOWN’

I cannot ignore the thought that the contradiction between these two pieces of news reflects the nature of our times. The Brewery decision reveals a government in thrall to big money and big tech in the quest for growth at any cost, despite the objections of more than 7000 people.

By contrast, Sarah Ainslie’s crowdfunded book celebrates the women whose work is often unrecognised, whether in factories, working from home or caring for the vulnerable – tradeswomen, community organisers, garment workers, faith leaders, artists, firefighters, shopkeepers, transport workers, cleaners and NHS staff, and all who sustain and bind together our communities with their warmth, labour and fellowship.

I am so proud to be the publisher of WOMEN AT WORK which speaks to this moment with defiant joy.

With such thoughts in mind, thus ends another year in the pages of Spitalfields Life.

I am your loyal servant

The Gentle Author

Spitalfields,

28th August 2026

CLICK HERE TO ORDER YOUR SIGNED COPY AND GET A FREE COPY OF ‘JOURNAL OF A MAN UNKNOWN’

We are including a complimentary copy of Gillian Tindall’s novel Journal of a Man Unknown with all preorders in the United Kingdom

Tickets available for The Gentle Author’s Tour Of Spitalfields this Saturday and for The Gentle Author’s Tour Of The City Of London on Bank Holiday Monday. Click here to book for all The Gentle Author’s tours.

Charles Pertwee of Baddeley Brothers, the longest established specialist printers and envelope makers in the City of London & the East End, lent me his copy of John Southward’s ‘Dictionary of Typography’ from 1875, which lists all the relevant terminology. Today, I have selected some of my favourite entries – as much for their arcane poetry as for the education of my readers.

ABRIDGEMENT – An epitome of a book, made by omitting the less important matter.

ADVERSARIA – Commonplace books: a miscellaneous collection of notes remarks and extracts.

APPRENTICE – An apprentice is a person described in law books as a species of servant, and so called from the French verb apprendre – to learn – because he is bound by indenture to serve a master for a certain term, receiving in return for his services instruction in his masters’s trade, profession or art.

BASTARD TITLE –  The short or condensed title preceding full title of the work.

BATTER – Any injury to the face of the type sufficient to prevent it showing clearly in printing.

BEARD OF A LETTER – The outer-angle of the square shoulder of the shank, which reaches almost to the face of the letter, and is commonly scraped off by the Founders, serving to leave a white square between the lower face of the type and the top part of any ascending letter which happen to come in the line following.

BIENVENUE – An obsolete term by which was meant formerly the fee paid on admittance to a ‘Chapel.’

BODKIN – A pointing steel instrument used in correcting, to pick wrong or imperfect letters out of a page.

BOTCHED – Carelessly or badly-done work.

BOTTLE-ARSED – Type that is wider at the bottom than the top.

BOTTLE-NECKED – Type that is thicker at the top than the bottom.

CANDLESTICK – In former times, when Compositors worked at night by the light of candles, they used a candlestick loaded at the base to keep it steady. A few offices use candlesticks at the present day.

CASSIE-PAPER – Imperfect paper, the outside quires of a ream.

CHAFF – Too frequently heard in the printing office, when one Compositor teases another, as regards his work, habits, disposition etc

CHOKED – Type filled up with dirt.

COVENTRY – When a workman does not conform to the rules of the ‘Chapel,’ he is sent to Coventry. That is, on no consideration, is any person allowed to speak with him, apart from business matters, until he pays his dues.

DEAD HORSE – When a Compositor has drawn more money on account than he has actually earned, he is said to be ‘horsing it’ and until he has done enough work in the next week to cover the amount withdrawn, he is said to be working a ‘dead horse.’

DEVIL – is the term applied to the printer’s boy who does the drudgery work of a print office.

DONKEY – Compositors were at one period thus styled by Pressmen in retaliation for being called pigs by them.

EIGHTEENMO – A sheet of paper folded into eighteen leaves, making thirty-six pages.

FAT-FACE LETTER – Letter with a broad face and thick stem.

FLOOR PIE – Type that has been dropped upon the floor during the operations of composition or distribution.

FLY – The man or boy who takes off the sheet from the tympan as the Pressman turns it up.

FORTY-EIGHTMO – A sheet of paper folded into forty-eight leaves or ninety-six pages.

FUDGE – To execute work without the proper materials, or finish it in a bungling or unworkmanlike manner.

GOOD COLOUR – When a sheet is printed neither too dark or too light.

GULL – To tear the point holes in a sheet of paper while printing.

HELL – The place where the broken and battered type goes to.

JERRY – A peculiar noise rendered by Compositors and Pressmen when one of their companions renders themselves ridiculous in any way.

LAYING-ON-BOY – The boy who feeds the sheets into the machine.

LEAN-FACE – A letter of slender proportions, compared with its height.

LIGHT-FACES – Varieties of face in which the lines are unusually thin.

LUG – When the roller adheres closely to the inking table and the type, through its being green and soft, it is said to ‘lug.’

MACKLE – An imperfection in the printed sheets, part of the impression appears double.

MONK – A botch of ink on a printed sheet, arising from insufficient distribution of the ink over the rollers.

MULLER – A sort of pestle, used for spreading ink on the ink table.

NEWS-HOUSE – A printing office in which newspapers only are printed. This term is used to distinguish from book and job houses.

OCTAVO – A sheet of paper folded so as to make eight leaves or sixteen pages.

ON ITS FEET – When a letter stands perfectly upright, it is said to be ‘on its feet.’

PEEL – A wooden instrument shaped like a letter ‘T’ used for hanging up sheets on the poles.

PENNY-A-LINER – A reporter for the Press who is not engaged on the staff, but sends in his matter upon approbation.

PIE – A mass of letters disarranged and in confusion.

PIG – A Pressman was formerly called so by Compositors.

PIGEON HOLES – Unusually wide spaces between words, caused by the carelessness or want of taste of the workman.

PRESS GOES EASY – When the run of the press is light and the pull is easy.

QUIRE – A quire of paper for all usual purposes consists of twenty-four sheets.

RAT-HOUSE – A printing office where the rules of the printers’ trade unions are not conformed to.

SCORPERS – Instruments used by Engravers to clear away the larger portions of wood not drawn upon.

SHEEP’S FOOT – An iron hammer with a claw end, used by Pressmen.

‘SHIP – A colloquial abbreviation of companionship.

SHOE – An old slipper is hung at the end of the frame so that the Compositor, when he comes across a broken or battered letter, may put it there.

SLUG – An American name for what we call a ‘clump.’

SQUABBLE – Lines of matter twisted out of their proper positions with letters running into wrong lines etc.

STIGMATYPY –  Printing with points, the arrangement of points of various thicknesses to create a picture.

WAYZGOOSE – An annual festivity celebrated in most large offices.

You may also like to read about

William Caslon, Letter Founder

At the Caslon Foundry

Magnificent strudel kindly baked with the sweet new Rosette apples of the season by Head Chef, Farokh Talati of St John Bread & Wine, for this Sunday’s tour of Whitechapel.

Click here to book your ticket for THE GENTLE AUTHOR’S TOUR OF WHITECHAPEL this Sunday 23rd August at 2pm

In Weavers’ Fields

Who can resist the appeal of the path worn solely by footsteps? I was never convinced by John Bunyan’s pilgrim who believed salvation lay in sticking exclusively to the straight path – detours and byways always held greater attraction for me. My experience of life has been that there is more to be discovered by stepping from the tarmac and meandering off down the dusty track, and so I delight in the possibility of liberation offered by these paths which appear year after year, in complete disregard to those official routes laid out by the parks department.

It is commonly believed that the French philosopher Gaston Bachelard invented the notion of “desire paths” (lignes de désir) to describe these pathways eroded by footfall in his book “The Poetics of Space,” in 1958, although, just like the mysterious provenance of these paths themselves, this origin is questioned by others. What is certain is that the green spaces of the East End are scored with them at this time of year. Sometimes, it is because people would rather cut a corner than walk around a right angle, at other times it is because walkers lack patience with elegantly contrived curved paths when they would prefer to walk in a straight line and occasionally it is because there is simply no other path leading where they want to go.

Resisting any suggestion that these paths are by their nature subversive to authority or indicative of moral decline, I prefer to appreciate them as evidence of  human accommodation, coming into existence where the given paths fail and the multitude of walkers reveal the footpath which best takes them where they need to go. Yet landscape architects and the parks department refuse to be cowed by the collective authority of those who vote with their feet and, from time to time, little fences appear in a vain attempt to redirect pedestrians back on the straight and narrow.

I find a beauty in these desire paths which are expressions of collective will and serve as indicators of the memory of repeated human actions inscribed upon the landscape. They recur like an annual ritual, reiterated over and over like a popular rhyme, and asserting ownership of the space by those who walk across it every day. It would be an indication of the loss of independent thought if desire paths were no longer created and everyone chose to conform to the allotted pathways instead.

You only have to look at a map of the East End to see that former desire paths have been incorporated into the modern road network. The curved line of Broadway Market joins up with Columbia Rd cutting a swathe through the grid of streets, along an ancient drover’s track herding the cattle from London Fields down towards Smithfield Market, and the aptly named Fieldgate St indicates the beginning of what was once a footpath over the fields down to St Dunstan’s when it was the parish church for the whole of Tower Hamlets.

Each desire path tells a story, whether of those who cut a corner hurrying for the tube through Museum Gardens or of those who walk parallel to the tarmac for fear of being hit by cyclists in London Fields or of the strange compromise enacted in Whitechapel Waste where an attempt has been made to incorporate desire paths into the landscape design. I am told that in Denmark landscape architects and planners go out after newly-fallen snow to trace the routes of pedestrians as an indicator of where the paths should be. Yet I do not believe that desire paths are a problem which can be solved because desire paths are not a problem, they are a heartening reminder of the irreducible nature of the human spirit that can never be contained and will always be wandering.

The parting of the ways in Museum Gardens.

The allure of the path through the trees.

In Bethnal Green, hungry for literature, residents cut across the rose bed to get to the library.

A cheeky little short cut.

An inviting avenue of plane trees in Weavers’ Fields.

A detour in Florida St.

A byway in Bethnal Green.

Legitimised by mowing in Allen Gardens, Spitalfields.

A pointless intervention in Shadwell.

Which path would you choose?

Over the hills and faraway in Stepney.

The triumph of common sense in Stepney Green.

Half-hearted appropriation by landscape architects on Whitechapel Waste.

A mystery in London Fields.

A dog-eared corner in Stepney.

The beginning of something in Bethnal Green.

Click here to book your ticket for THE GENTLE AUTHOR’S TOUR OF WHITECHAPEL this Sunday 23rd August

Tour includes tea and apple strudel at the Whitechapel Gallery.

At Westcliff

At the end of August, I always feel the need to leave the city and go to the sea, taking advantage of the last days of sunshine before the season changes. Admitting that I have spent too much of these last months at my desk in neglect of summer, I found myself on the train out of Fenchurch St Station with the East End receding like a dream.

At Shoeburyness, the ocean lay before me gleaming like a tin roof beneath a flawless azure sky. Surely no-one fails to be surprised by the sea, always more expansive than the image you carry in your mind. I sat upon the warm buttery-yellow sand of East Beach to assimilate this vast landscape before me, humbled by the open space after too long in narrow streets.

Military fences obstructed my intention of walking east across open land towards the River Roach, so instead I turned west, following the coast path through a wildlife reserve embellished with abandoned structures of warfare now being appropriated by nature. Local myth speaks of an ancient settlement lost beneath the sands and archaeology has revealed an Iron Age camp, confirming the strategic importance of this site overlooking the estuary where Shoebury Garrison was established in 1854. Wild fennel, sea holly, coltstfoot and stonecrop grow freely upon the sea wall, where the works of man are sublimated by greater forces. It came as no surprise to encounter a religious service enacted upon the shingle here, with priests in white robes and red sashes presiding, like their Celtic predecessors, upon unyielding waves lapping at the beach.

Then, in a sudden change of atmosphere, leaving the reserve and crossing a road brought me to Thorpe Bay with its regimented lines of cabins that serve to domesticate the shoreline. Yet even on this baking Saturday in August, just a few lone sun worshippers were setting out their deck chairs and upholding their secular rituals beneath the glassy sky. Meanwhile, an equal languor prevailed below the tideline where yachts sat marooned and inert upon the glistening mud.

The long pier and white towers upon the horizon led me on, absorbed now in walking, even if the featureless esplanade offered no sense of progress until, turning a shallow corner, I found myself in the midst of the throng of Southend with its endless diversions and hullabaloo. Extended family groups clung together, laden with bags and babies, and huddling as if they were refugees caught in the middle of a battle, while my own attention danced and darted, drawn by amusement arcades, crazy golf, souvenir and novelty shops, and pleasure parks. In the event, I took a nap in the shade of a pine tree upon the cliff overlooking Adventure Island, where fellow day-trippers were screaming in terror while being flung around on white-knuckle rides that looped and twisted for their enjoyment.

Walking on, the frenzied action relented as the sedate charms of Westcliff made themselves apparent in the form of elaborate nineteenth-century balconied villas. The tide had retreated still further and the declining sun reflected golden off the pools where lonely beach-comers strayed. A stone obelisk upon the strand indicated the boundary of the Thames and its estuary, and beyond lay a causeway across the mud banks where a long procession of curious ramblers were walking out to the horizon.

In overt contrast to the demonstrative thrill-seekers of Southend, I spied bowls played upon lawns discreetly screened by well-kept privet hedges in Chalkwell. Here my walk ended and I took the opportunity of reflection upon the day’s journey, stringing together the disparate locations that comprise this stretch of coast. Dozing on the train, I awoke in Fenchurch St Station and as I wandered back through the familiar deserted City, it could have been as if my adventure had been but a fantasy – if it were not for the residual sensation of sunshine and wind upon my skin that was evidence I had been somewhere else.

Click here to book for The Gentle Author’s Tours

In advance of Peta Bridle’s forthcoming exhibition London Day by Day at Southwark Cathedral from September 3rd to 14th October, here are a selection of drawings from her City of London sketchbook.

‘Inspired by ‘Offbeat in the City of London’ by Geoffrey Fletcher, I visited some of the places he drew in the sixties and made my own sketches,’ Peta explained to me, ‘It was interesting to stand where he stood fifty years ago and often see many buildings unchanged, while others places were unrecognisable.’

Mermaid Court

‘I sat on the pavement to make this sketch which gives it a low viewpoint. I like the composition of the three bollards, leaning drunkenly against the paving stones. The shadows were constantly shifting due to the strong sunlight. A man from a cafe under the archway kindly bought me a cup of tea.’

Old Shop in Eastcheap

‘I sat on the steps of St Margaret Pattens to draw this. The doors are decorated with seashell motifs and framed by columns on either side. Seagulls kept squawking in the background which was common to all my drawings in the City, competing with the racket of construction works.’

Hodge & Dr Johnson’s House, Gough Sq

‘I sat behind the statue of the cat with oysters at his paws, looking towards Dr Johnson’s House. Hodge, ‘A very fine cat indeed,’ belonged to Samuel Johnson who sometimes bought his pet oysters to eat as a treat.’

Playhouse Yard, Blackfriars

‘I chose a Sunday morning to visit Playhouse Yard. The Blackfriars Theatre once stood here but all that remains of the Elizabethan playhouse is a piece of brick wall.’

Postmans Park

‘In the churchyard of St. Botolph’s, there are tablets describing act of bravery. The memorial was built by Victorian painter and philanthropist, GF Watts. On the front of the structure it reads ‘In commemoration of Heroic Self Sacrifice.”

Shakespeare Memorial, Garden of St Mary Aldermanbury

‘In the distance a marching band was making its way to the Guildhall and there were skateboarders practising in the garden. The bust of Shakespeare commemorates Henry Condell and John Heminges who published the First Folio. They lived in the parish and are buried in the churchyard. The church was damaged in the Blitz and rebuilt in Fulton, Missouri in 1966.’

Simpsons Chop House, Ball Court

‘Behind me the occasional bus sailed up Cornhill and there was the gentle background hush of air conditioning units. Simpsons Tavern was founded in 1757 by Thomas Simpson. A jumble of books sit in the bow window and the alley to the side leads on to Castle Court.’

St Johns Garden, Clerkenwell 

‘This is a lovely garden with a fountain and silvery olive tree set in the centre, referencing the Holy Land, since the Knights of St John are buried here.’

Doorway at St Magnus the Martyr

‘I have attended services with my children at St Magnus for the blessing of the river, held jointly with Southwark Cathedral. I made a study of one of its doorways, crowned with a cherub’s head. Outside is a piece of Roman piling from the Roman river wall. The church is on the original alignment of London Bridge where people crossing would enter the City.’

St Peter Upon Cornhill

It was very quiet in St Peter’s Alley next to the churchyard while I was drawing this. A couple said ‘hello’ as they walked past and a man hurried by clutching his sandwich bag.’

St Dunstan in the East

‘St Dunstan’s attracts many visitors to sit and enjoy the garden. I found a shady spot to draw as it was a very hot day. Palm trees flourish here and the walls are draped with greenery. The church was destroyed in the blitz and the yard turned into a public garden.’

Double page of St Dunstan in the East

Drawings copyright © Peta Bridle

You may also like to take a look at

Peta Bridle’s Gravesend Sketchbook

Peta Bridle’s New Etchings

Peta Bridle’s Latest Drypoint Etchings

Peta Bridle River Etchings

CLICK HERE TO BOOK YOUR TICKET

For all those with a fascination with ropes and knots, the Whitechapel Gallery is currently hosting the ROPERY, a free exhibition offering visitors of all ages the opportunity to engage in hands-on rope making, spinning, twisting and knot tying, until 30th August.

‘There isn’t really a word for it in English,’ admitted Terry Barns, ‘in French, they call it ‘matelotage’ meaning ‘sailors’ knot-making.’

Terry did not become a serious knot tyer until his fifties, yet it was a tendency that revealed itself in childhood. Celebrating the Queen’s Coronation in 1952, when Terry was just nine years old, his mother made him a guardsman’s outfit from red and black crepe paper with a busby fashioned from the shoulders cut out of an old fur coat. Terry’s contribution was to make the chin strap. ‘We got some gold string and I tied reef knots over a core, making what I now know is known as a ‘Pilgrim’s Sennet’ or a ‘Soloman’s Bar,’ he explained to me in wonder at his former precocious self, ‘but I never thought anything about it at the time.’

This is how Terry tells the story of the intervening years –

‘My early life was in the Queensbridge Rd but I was born in Hertfordshire because Hitler was trying to blow up the East End in 1944. My mum was a dress machinist and my dad was a wood machinist, he used to drill the holes in bagatelles and I still have one he made at home. In 1950, when I was six, we got a Council House in Clapton with a bathroom and an inside toilet – it was wonderful.

Somehow,  I passed the 11-plus and ended up at Grocers’ Company School in Hackney Downs. When I left school at fourteen, being a prudent person, I joined the General Post Office as a telephone engineer, running around Mare St and Dalston. Nobody told me I could have stayed on at school and I soon realised that if I didn’t leave the GPO, I’d never know anything else. So I became a ‘Ten Pound Pom’ and went off to Australia in 1966.

I met my wife Carol in Pedro St in Hackney at that time and she followed me to Australia shortly after. I was a very quick learner and I had a very good job in Sydney working for a Japanese telephone company, Hitachi, but we had no intention of staying and came back in 1968. Then we got married in 1969, had three children and bought a house, so that occupied me for the next twenty years! I went back to the GPO which became BT and, when I was fifty, they asked if I would like to take some money and not go back again. So I have been living on my BT pension for the past twenty years and that has been the story of my life.’

Yet, all this time that Terry had been working with telephone cables, his tendency with string and rope had been merely in abeyance. ‘In the seventies, my wife bought me a copy of The Ashley Book of Knots,’ he revealed, bringing out a pristine hardback copy of the knotter’s bible containing nearly four thousand configurations. At a stall outside the Maritime Museum in Greenwich, Terry came across the International Guild of Knot Tyers which led to a four day course with legendary knot tyer, Des Pawson in 1994. ‘He’s got a museum of rope work in his back garden,’ Terry confided in awe.

‘I’m an engineer, but Des – he’s artistic,’ Terry informed me, ‘he educated me how to see things, he showed me when things look right.’ For over ten years, Terry has been on the Council of the Guild of Tyers, accompanying Des as his bag man, demonstrating knot work at festivals of matelotage in France – ‘My kind of holiday,’ he describes it enthusiastically.

When a sculptor cast a rope in bronze to symbolise the identity of the East End, it was Terry who wound the strands – and you can see the result at the junction of Sclater St and Bethnal Green Rd today. The largest pieces of rope you ever saw are placed as features in Terry’s front garden in Woodford. Inside the house, walls are hung with nautical paintings and shelves are lined with volumes of maritime history. They tell the story of one man’s lifetime entanglement with cable, rope and string, and remind of us of how the East End was built upon the docks, of which the ancient and ingenious culture of rope work was a major thread, still kept alive by enthusiasts like Terry Barns.

Terry with one he tied earlier

You might like to find out more at International Guild of Knot Tyers

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Frost Brothers, Ropemakers & Yarn Spinners

The Ropemakers of Stepney

At Arthur Beale

Click here to book for The Gentle Author’s Tours

Simon Carter, Keeper of Collections at St Paul’s

In a hidden chamber within the roof of St Paul’s sits Christopher Wren’s 1:25 model of the cathedral, looking for all the world like the largest jelly mould you ever saw. When Charles II examined it in the Chapter House of old St Paul’s, he was so captivated by Wren’s imagination as manifest in this visionary prototype that he awarded him the job of constructing the new cathedral.

More than three hundred years later, Wren’s model still works its magic upon the spectator, as I discovered last week when I was granted the rare privilege of climbing inside to glimpse the view that held the King spellbound. While there is an austere splendour to the exterior of the model, I discovered the interior contains a heart-stopping visual device which was surely the coup that persuaded Charles II of Wren’s genius.

Yet when I entered the chamber in the triforium at St Paul’s to view the vast wooden model, I had no idea of the surprise that awaited me inside. Almost all the paint has gone from the exterior now, giving the dark wooden model the look of an absurdly-outsized piece of furniture but, originally, it was stone-coloured with a grey roof to represent the lead.

At once, you are aware of significant differences between this prototype and the cathedral that Wren built. To put it bluntly, the model looks like a dog’s dinner of pieces of Roman architecture, with a vast portico stuck on the front of the dome of St Peter’s in the manner of those neo-Georgian porches on Barratt Houses. Imagine a fervent hobbyist chopping up models of relics of classical antiquity and rearranging them, and this is the result. It is unlikely that this design would even have stood up if it had been built, so fanciful is the conception. Yet the long process of designing a viable structure, once he had been given instruction by Charles II, permitted Wren to reconcile all the architectural elements into the satisfying whole that we know today.

I had been tempted to visit the cathedral by an invitation to go inside the model but – studying it – I could not imagine how that could be possible. I could not see a way in. ‘Perhaps one end has hinges and Charles II crawled in on his hands and knees like a child entering a Wendy House?,‘ I was thinking, when Simon Carter, Keeper of Collections opened a door in the plinth and disappeared inside, gesturing me to follow. In blind faith, I dipped my head and walked inside.

When I stood up, I was beneath the dome with the floor of the cathedral at my chest height. There was just room for two people to stand together and I imagined the unexpected moment of intimacy between the Monarch and his architect, yet I believe Wren was quietly confident because he had a trick up his sleeve. From the inside, the drama of the architecture is palpable, with intersecting spaces leading off in different directions, and – as your eyes accustom to the gloom – you grow aware of the myriad refractions of light within this intricately-imagined interior.

Just as Wren directed Charles II, Simon Carter told me to walk to the far end of the model and sit on the bench placed there to bring my eye level down to the point of view of someone entering through the great west door. Then Simon left me there inside, just as I believe Wren left Charles II within the model, to appreciate the full effect.

I have no doubt the King was thrilled by this immersive experience, which quickly takes on a convincing reality of its own once you are alone. Charles II discovered himself confronted by a glorious vision of the future in which he was responsible for the first and greatest classically-designed church in this country, with the largest dome ever built. Such is the nature of the consciousness-filling reverie induced by sitting inside the model that the outside world recedes entirely.

How astonishing, once you have accustomed to the scale of the model, when a giant face appears filling the east window. I could not resist a gasp of wonder when I saw it and neither – I suggest – could Charles II when Christopher Wren’s smiling face appeared, grinning at him from the opposite end of the nave, apparently enlarged to twenty-five times its human scale.

In these unforgettable circumstances, the King could not avoid the realisation that Wren was a colossus among architects and – unquestionably – the man for the job of building the new St Paul’s Cathedral. The model had worked its spell.

Behold, the largest jelly mould in the world!

The belfry that was never built

The single portico that was replaced by a two storey version

Just a few fragments of paintwork remain upon the exterior

Original paintwork can be seen inside the model

Charles II’s point of view from inside the model

‘How astonishing, once you have accustomed to the scale of the model, when a giant face appears filling the east window.’

You may like to read my other stories of St Paul’s

Maurice Sills, Cathedral Treasure

The Broderers of St Paul’s

Relics of Old St Paul’s in New St Paul’s

Magnificent Apple Strudel kindly baked by Farokh Talati, Head Chef at St John Bread & Wine for the lucky guests on this Sunday’s tour of Whitechapel. Click here to book for Whitechapel tours on Sundays 23rd August, 6th and 23rd September, and 18th October

We are delighted to show these splendid cut paper collages by favourite illustrator Marion Elliot which are the subject of her exhibition MAKING GOOD at Tinsmiths in Ledbury, opening this weekend and running until 4th September. For those of you unable to make the trip to Herefordshire, I publish them here today.

‘While I was working on fabric designs based on mochaware pottery for Phoebe Clive, owner of Tinsmiths, we discussed how we wanted to celebrate traditional crafts. Many of the themes of my collages, such as smocking, come from ideas sparked by my visits to rural museums, agricultural fairs, flower shows and also traditional customs including Lammas Day celebrations. When Phoebe offered me an exhibition to launch the fabric and show a collection of these collages, I was delighted to accept.’  Marion Elliot

At the Block Printers

The production of block-printed fabrics in the British Isles was inspired by hand-printed fabrics imported from Asia. Early blocks were carved from pear or sycamore wood and used to print fabric by hand before the arrival of mechanisation. Interest in hand block-printing was revived by William Morris in the nineteenth century and continued in the twentieth century by designers such as Barron & Larcher, who shared Morris’ interest in natural dyes, and their pupil Enid Marx.

At the Clay Pipe Factory

Clay pipes were made from the middle of the sixteenth century in London and the craft spread rapidly throughout England. Family groups often made pipes together which were formed by pushing white earthenware clay into two-part plaster moulds. Some moulds were ornate and produced highly decorative pipes. The central channel was achieved by feeding an oiled wire through the body of the pipe which met a stopper at the bowl. Clay pipes were cheap and disposable, but they were replaced by wooden pipes in the nineteenth century and cigarettes during the First World War.

The Fair Isle Knitters

Fair Isle knitting comes from a tiny island situated between Orkney and the Shetland Islands, north of Scotland. It is created using double ended needles and knitted in the round, using two colours at a time, with around four colours being used in the whole garment. In this picture two sisters knit sweaters. Their neighbour has been cutting peats and carries them in a traditional handmade kishie woven from straw, dockens and marram grass.

At the Slipware Factory

Popular from the seventeenth century onwards, slipware pottery was decorated by applying contrasting slip, or liquid clay, to unfired clay. This was poured, trailed or brushed onto the surface and could also be scratched away to reveal the colour of the clay beneath by a technique known as sgraffito. There were some very notable English slipware makers, such as Thomas & Ralph Toft, who made pottery with biblical and royal themes.

At the Tinsmiths

Tinware was produced in London from the middle of the seventeenth century.  Unlike blacksmithing, it was a cold metal craft although fire was used to heat tools and solder. Tinsmiths made metal containers and utensils entirely by hand, using tinned steel sheet and wire. They hammered the metal sheets over iron stakes to bend them into shape and ran solder down the joints to seal them. Many tinsmiths, tinkers, were itinerant and returned to their customers to make repairs and patch up holes.

The Smock Maker

Before the invention of elastic, smocking stitches were used to gather fullness in smocks worn by agricultural labourers. This technique offered a bit of ‘give’ across the chest and shoulders, allowing movement when working. Different trades and skills often had distinctive smocking patterns, making the wearers easy to identify.

At the Mochaware Factory

Mochaware was a cheap variety of decorated tankards, bowls and jars in earthenware pottery, featuring bands applied with liquid clay, achieved by turning each piece on a lathe while applying even lines of slip. The most common styles were earthworm, a trailing, wavy design and cats’ eyes, comprising dotted multicolour motifs. Tree-like patterns were achieved by dropping an acidic mocha tea mixture onto the wet slip so that it spread across the surface in a pattern resembling branches.

The Harvest Jug Maker

Harvest jugs are large earthenware pitchers decorated with contrasted slip and embellished with scratched sgraffito designs celebrating fertility, the abundance of nature, royal coats of arms, sailing ships and other traditional motifs. They were employed to serve ale and cider to farm workers at harvest time and at celebrations for the end of the cut, when the crops were safely home. There is a strong tradition of harvest jug making around Bideford and Barnstaple in North Devon with some spectacular examples at the Burton Museum in Bideford.

The Harvest Loaf Baker

The baker takes the Lammas loaf – made using wheat from the first cut of the new harvest – out of the oven. Behind him is a traditional harvest loaf in the form of a wheatsheaf and above him, corn tokens or dollies made with the last of the old harvest. Lammas Day falls on 1st August, when the new loaf is taken to church and blessed to give thanks for the harvest. The enormous harvest loaf is employed as the centrepiece of harvest festivals throughout the late summer and early autumn.

At the Chair Makers

Making chairs by hand is still widely practised, continuing the tradition of the Arts & Crafts makers such as Ernest Gimson, who was heavily influenced by rural chairmaker Philip Clisset. His company made the original ladder-back, rush-seated chairs – still used at the Art Workers’ Guild – in their workshop in Bosbury near Ledbury, Herefordshire.

The Silk Ribbon Maker

In Spitalfields, silk ribbon weaving was established in the late seventeenth century by Huguenot refugees. Then, from the early eighteenth to the middle of the nineteenth century, silk ribbon weaving became Coventry’s main industry. At one stage around 13,000 hand looms were in operation and half the population of Coventry was associated with the trade. The jacquard loom, shown here, wove several widths at once. An alternative method was to weave the ribbons as a broadcloth, with gaps between, so they could be cut and separated after production.

Preparing for the Flower & Produce Show

Even before the show takes place, there are weeks of anxiety as flowers and vegetables are lovingly tended and fussed over by their growers. Customarily, judgment at flower and produce shows is strict and there are many rules governing display of exhibits which, if disregarded, can result in disqualification.

At the Flower & Produce Show

Agricultural Fairs traditionally take place during the month of August, when farmers bring their champion beasts to compete for glory in the ring. The Flower & Produce Show is a fiercely contested part of the fair, taking place in enormous marquees, where prize vegetables and flowers are displayed alongside jams, pickles, cakes, knitted items  and children’s vegetable sculptures. Other attractions include sheep shearing, horse jumping and dressage, traction engine and tractor rallies, beer tents and very often, fairground rides.

At the Fry Gallery 1

This collage was made in response to Fry’s Popular Delights, an exhibition curated by Mark Hearld & Colin Wilkin at the Fry Gallery in Saffron Walden, featuring items from the collections of the Great Bardfield artists. Here is an image of a house by Tirzah Garwood, a Staffordshir zebra, two Wedgwood pottery mugs by Eric Ravilious and a mochaware mug.

At the Fry Gallery 2

More inspiration from Fry’s Popular Delights, featuring a Wedgwood Elizabeth II coronation mug by Eric Ravilious, a coronation money box, a mochaware mug, a collection of clay pipes and a few other bits from my own collection.

Illustrations copyright © Marion Elliot

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In 1930, basketmaker and artist Henry Silk sits alone in his sparsely furnished room in Rounton Rd in Bow surrounded by few personal possessions. He glances in the mirror and realises that he is no longer young. Yet the pair of medals from the Great War laid on the table remind him how lucky he is to be alive.

He wakes in the camp bed in the early morning and the empty green room is flooded with light as dawn rises over the rooftops of the East End and washing flaps on the line. Weaving baskets suits a contemplative nature and, when Henry returns from the kitchen with a cup of tea, he sits at the table with the pink cloth and studies the objects upon the surface in the morning sunlight.

The forms and colours of these familiar things fascinate him. His pipe, his purse and his pocket knife that he carried for years are as commonplace to him as his own hands. Each day, Henry paints a picture to catalogue his personal possessions, comprising the modest landscape of his existence. It is a whole life in a handful of paintings.

Henry Silk and his sister

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Henry Silk, Basketmaker & Artist