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By coincidence, two readers – Christine Osborne & Janice Oliver – both sent me photographs of their ancestors who produced and sold soft drinks in the East End – Brandon’s Mineral Waters of Virginia Rd, Bethnal Green, and Moody’s Sarsaparilla of Rathbone St Market, Canning Town

William Brandon and his mineral water business, 112 Virginia Rd, Bethnal Green c.1887

“William Brandon is my great-great-great uncle, born 10th August 1840 in Bethnal Green as the youngest of seven children. In 1881, he was living with his wife Matilda and their nine children at 112 Virginia Rd where he was a Mineral Water Manufacturer.

I am fascinated by the large framed photographs hanging up on the outside of the building – the one in the centre might be an advertisement as it looks like it says ‘W. Brandon’ and I can even make out ‘Brandon’ stamped on the crates under the table. If you look at the sign at top right of photograph it shows a picture of a bow tie and I believe this is his trademark, as I have obtained an old bottle dug up from a Victorian dump in Stratford with the name ‘Brandon’ and a bow tie symbol.

When William died in 1905 he left £2,343 and Matilda took over the business. A newspaper obituary referred to “William Brandon, who was a mineral water manufacturer of note” and recorded his funeral “was of an imposing character.” He was a self-made man who lived all his life on the edge of the Old Nichol, but he must have had a good life compared to most people living there.” – Christine Osborne

Annie Moody of Moody’s of Rathbone St Market, Canning Town c.1910

“My grandfather, George Moody, was born in Ramsgate in 1879 into a long line of seafarers, and became an Officer in the Navy and travelled the world. After marrying my grandmother, Annie Andrews who was born in Broadstairs, they moved to Canning Town in 1909 where he opened a Herbalists in Rathbone St and started making potions for everyday ailments, using knowledge of herbal medicine he had acquired on his travels. He also offered Homeopathy and local people came for consultations. I remember as a child helping to put  ‘Rathbone’ skin ointment into tins, and there was also ‘Rathbone ‘ cough mixture and various other concoctions.

Soon he formulated a recipe for  making a Sarsaparilla drink – sarsaparilla is a medicinal root which is reputed to help purify the blood. This was sold outside the shop from a stall which was equipped with barrels of the cordial and a water urn. It was served hot in the winter and huge blocks of ice were put into the water barrel to chill it in summer.

As a girl I used to  ‘wash’ the glasses, which merely entailed dunking them into a bucket of cold water after use and leaving them upturned to drain. My mother told me that a famous drinks firm had offered money for the recipe but my grandfather would not part with it and I still have it until this day. So many people have requested it but it remains a family secret. My grandfather George died in 1945, but my mother and then an uncle continued with the business until the late seventies.” –  Janice Oliver

Vera Moody of Moody’s of Rathbone St Market, Canning Town

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At Syd’s Coffee Stall, Shoreditch High St

At Paul’s Tea Stall

Only two more Whitechapel tours remaining on Sunday 20th September and Sunday 18th October. Tours include tea and freshly baked apple strudel at the Whitechapel Gallery. Click here to book

I was passing Abbott & Holder, picture dealers in Museum St, on Thursday when I spied this splendid set of Thomas Rowlandson’s Cries of London from 1799 for sale in the window and – as I stood gazing – Tom Edwards, the proprietor, came out to say ‘hello’. For more than fifteen years I have been publishing sets of Cries of London in these pages but I had never seen this one before, so Tom agreed to let me show them to you here. With Rowlandson there is always more going on than first meets the eye and careful study of the background often reveals a wry commentary.

‘Buy a Trap, a Rat Trap, Buy My Trap’

‘Hot Cross Bunns, Two A Penny Bunns’

‘Do you want any Brick Dust?’

Brick dust was used for polishing pewter

‘All a growing, a growing, here’s Flowers for you’

‘Last dying speech and Confession’

‘Water Cress, come by my Water Cress’

The female water cress sellers from Shoreditch were celebrated fir their independence of spirit.

‘Old Cloaths any old Cloaths’

Old clothes men wearing multiple hats were first drawn my Marcellus Laroon in 1687  and persisted within living memory in London.

‘Buy my Goose, my fat Goose’

Images reproduced courtesy of Abbott & Holder

Click here to buy a signed copy of the CRIES OF LONDON

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In the sixties and seventies when these pictures were taken, every street corner in the East End that was not occupied by a pub was home to a shop offering groceries and general supplies to the residents of the immediate vicinity. The owners of these small shops took on mythic status as all-seeing custodians of local information, offering a counterpoint to the pub as a community meeting place for the exchange of everybody’s business. Shopkeepers were party to the smallest vacillations in the domestic economy of their customers and it was essential for children to curry their good favour if the regular chore of going to fetch a packet of butter or a tin of custard, or any other domestic essential, might be ameliorated by the possibility of reward in the form of sweets, whether  there was any change left over or not.

Yet, even in the time these photographs were taken, the small shops were in decline and Tony Hall knew he was capturing the end of a culture, erased by the rise of the chain-stores and the supermarkets. To the aficionado of small shops there are some prize examples here – of businesses that survived beyond their time, receptacles of a certain modest history of shopkeepers. It was a noble history of those who created lives for themselves by working long hours serving the needs of their customers. It was a familiar history of shopkeepers who made a living but not a fortune. Above all, it was a proud history of those who delighted in shopkeeping.

Photographs copyright © Estate of Libby Hall

Images courtesy of the Tony Hall Collection at the Bishopsgate Institute

Harry bakes the cakes for my tour to recipe of 1720. Tickets available for The Gentle Author’s Tour of Spitalfields this Saturday. Click here to book

Lew Tassell at the Mansion House

Lew Tassell, formerly of the City of London Police, took me on a walk tracing the path of his old beat last week and regaled me with stories of his adventures in the City in the last century.

“I joined the City of London Police in June 1969. After thirteen weeks training at Eynsham Police Training Centre, I commenced divisional duties at Bishopsgate in September for about a month with an experienced officer and then on my own, patrolling for a two year probationary period.

The COLP had three divisions then – Bishopsgate, Wood St & Snow Hill. Each was split into areas, subdivided into beats. There were always plenty of officers patrolling and, although you were supposed to patrol alone, you very often teamed up with a colleague, as long as you were not caught by the Duty Inspector who patrolled for about an hour on each shift. If you saw the Inspector, you had to approach him, stand to attention, salute and state your beats. If you were “off your ground” or not on the area designated you could be in trouble.

In the days when there were few automated crossings, an officer would be posted to operate the lights manually and ensure smooth running of traffic during the rush hour. You could open the traffic light box with a key on your whistle chain to sequence the lights. At 8.00am and again at 18.00pm, there would always be two officers directing traffic at the junction of Aldgate, Minories and Houndsditch which was the busiest point. The entrances to Liverpool St Station would be manned during the rush hour to assist commuters. There were also two school crossing duties to cover in the morning and evenings, Dukes Place and Bishopsgate North by Pindar St, for the students at the Central Foundation School for Girls.

Between 7.00am and 20.00pm, three officers policed Tower Bridge. The rule was an officer for the North Tower, one for the South Tower and a third for the bascules, where it opens up. There were police boxes on both sides of the bridge for “inclement weather” but a four hour shift was quite boring, especially if it was quiet – so often we would often congregate in one box, keeping an eye out for an Inspector on patrol.

I also enjoyed being allocated bicycle duty on nights and at the weekends. You collected a standard sit-up-and-beg black bicycle and cycled anywhere on division for the whole shift that started and finished an hour earlier than usual to cover the change-over period. You wore standard uniform including your helmet and perhaps bicycle clips. I was knocked off my bike once as I was approaching Tower Bridge when a coach cut in, turning left into East Smithfield. Nothing was hurt apart from my pride as my helmet bounced down the street in front of onlookers.”

“I often took the short cut from Houndsditch through the Port of London Authority’s bonded warehouse in Cutler St to the back entrance of Bishopsgate Police Station in New St. The PLA policemen on the gates waved me through the complex which was built for the East India Company as their warehouse in the City and appeared to have changed little in 1969. It was dark and imposing, and I always felt the atmosphere of history. In one dark corner was the only facility permitted for the storage of opium. You could smell it from outside – or I assumed that was what it was. When the complex became derelict in the seventies, the City Police used it for firearms training.”

“I have enjoyed visiting the Lamb Tavern in Leadenhall Market frequently over fifty years. It is my favourite pub in London and thankfully has hardly changed. My introduction came on Christmas Eve 1969. Unlike today, most people in the City worked on Christmas Eve but everyone finished at midday and went to the pub. They got carried away and there were a lot of drunk people trying to make their way home in the afternoon when licensing hours meant the pubs had to stop serving at 3.30pm. Two officers were allocated to each pub to assist the landlord in clearing the bars. In 1969, I was allocated the Lamb. The atmosphere was generally good natured and there was little aggravation but there were a lot of drunk people, especially those that were once-a-year drinkers.

One Christmas Eve, I encountered a City gent in striped trousers and a bowler hat, with an umbrella, staggering towards me in Bishopsgate. He could not stand straight and hardly talk, but I managed to find out he had to catch a train from Broad St Station to somewhere in West London, so I literally carried him to the station and put him on a train home.”

“When I joined the Force I was taken out under instruction by an experienced officer. Most had places where they could stop for a cup of tea and a chat, it was a good way to meet the community. They were known as ‘tea holes.’ One of the ones I was taken to was a coffin factory, situated on the first floor of Artillery Lane at the junction with Sandys Row. It surprised me to find such an establishment in the City. All the carpenters made the coffins by hand with one floor entirely for storage. I was told that – by law -they had to keep at least two hundred coffins in case they should be required in an emergency, if there was a disaster.”

“Gun St is in Spitalfields and not strictly the City of London, but I would often cut through there from Brushfield St. There were a number of Victorian workshops, all run by the Asians, manufacturing clothing in sweatshops. In Gun St, they made leather coats and jackets and I purchased garments for myself, excellent quality and well made. The production process was astonishing to see, with dozens of people in a small space producing leather goods, measuring, cutting, stitching and sewing.”

“A favourite beat of mine was around and beneath Fenchurch St Railway Station, especially through French Ordinary Court. It was an alley that led into the underground cavernous area beneath the railway station arches. Cool in summer and warm in winter, there was an overwhelming smell of spices as you entered the tunnel. Sadly, they have managed to erase the spices but the cobbles are still there as you emerge into Crutched Friars, very close to another favourite spot – the churchyard of St Ghastly Grim.”

“The City of London Police Headquarters was situated at 26 Old Jewry since the Force was formed in 1839, it housed the offices of the Commissioner and Assistant Commissioner. The building was rebuilt in 1929 but, unusually for that time, retained the original staircase from 1725. Later, Old Jewry became the first offices of the Fraud Squad and the C.I.D. HQ. It was here I was interviewed to become a Cadet in 1967 and join the Force in 1969.”

“The City of London Magistrates Court opened in 1990 at 1 Queen Victoria St after the Mansion House and Guildhall Justice Rooms were closed.”

“Painted bright blue with an amber lamp on top, police boxes they were the main source of communication with officers on the beat before the advent of police radios. The general public could also summon help from a telephone in the upper part of the box. If an officer needed to be contacted, the amber light would flash on the boxes situated on his beat. If the light on the top was constantly illuminated, it signalled that royalty was in the City. By 1969, there were only a few occasions when you were not issued with a radio but, even so, the boxes were totally reliable unlike some of the radios.”

“I love rock music and going to gigs and, as a teenager, my favourite band were The Nice. They split in 1970 and keyboard player Keith Emerson formed Emerson Lake & Palmer with Greg Lake and Carl Palmer. In the spring of 1972, I noticed heavy boxes  being unloaded from a large van in the lay-by outside the Fire Station in Bishopsgate with the word NICE painted on the sides. It could only be Keith Emerson’s equipment. The boxes were being taken into a lunchtime drinking club that was shut in the evenings called The Poor Millionaire, whose premises are now Dirty Martini. I had a chat to the roadies who invited me down and I spent the evening watching Emerson Lake & Palmer rehearsing their next album Trilogy. The band were very friendly and welcoming, and I got to play Keith’s Hammond organ while he was leaping around wearing my police helmet.”

“Officers in the City of London Police are given a silver statue of a policeman upon retirement if they complete thirty years’ service. The origin of this goes back to the thirties when Mrs Firminger Paton a director of Baston-Firminger Ltd, Commodity Brokers in Cullum St, used to drive to her offices in her Daimler from her home in Wimbledon every day. Police officers assisted her passage through the City and she was so impressed she invited them to her house and garden each year for beer and a buffet in a marquee. In return, the grateful officers made a collection and had a silver policeman made that could be screwed onto the bonnet of her Daimler. When Mrs Firminger Paton died in the seventies, the mascot was returned to the City Police and kept permanently in the Commissioner’s office at her request. So it was then decided that retiring officers should each receive a Silver Policeman of their own.”

Lew Tassell’s helmet

Lew Tassell’s oak truncheon which had been used by generations of policemen before him, dating back to the nineteenth century

Lew Tassell’s badge, keys and whistle

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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

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Join me this Saturday for tea and cakes freshly baked to a recipe of 1720 served in a three hundred year old house in Fournier St overlooking Christ Church. Click here to book for THE GENTLE AUTHOR’S TOUR OF SPITALFIELDS

Chris Miles contacted me from Vancouver Island, where he describes himself as a Londoner in exile. ‘In the early seventies, I lived as a recently-graduated student in the East End, firstly on Grove Rd and then on Lauriston Rd above a supermarket,’ he explained and sent me his splendid photographs. Most were taken around Bethnal Green, Roman Rd and Mile End, and Chris & I welcome identification of precise locations from eagle-eyed readers.

George Davis is Innocent, Mile End Rd

Linda ‘n Laura

Getting a loaf, Stepney Green

S Kornbloom, Newsagent & Confectioner, Jubilee St

Corner Shop Groceries & Provisions, Stepney Way

Ronchetti’s Cafe, Piano’s & Kitchen Chairs Wanted

Snacks & Grills

The Bell Dining Rooms, Lot 63 Buildings at back

Leslies Restaurant, Fresh Up with your Meal

Harry’s Cafe, Teas & Snacks, Breakfasts & Dinners

Valente’s Cafe, Hackney Rd

Cafe Restaurant

Dinkie

Station Cafe

Fish Bar

J Kelly, No Prams or Trollie’s, Please

G Kelly

Charlie & Mick’s Cafe

Menu at Charlie & Mick’s Cafe

John Pelican

Joe’s Saloon – ‘We cater for long and short hair styles’

M Evans & Sons, Garn Dairy

Marion’s, Blouses, Trouser Suits, Smock Dresses, Ect.

Sunset Stores

N Berg, Watch & Clock Repairs

S Grant, High Class Tailor, Seamens Outfitter

Littlewood Brothers Ltd, Domestic Stores, Grocery & Hardware

J Galley & Sons, Established 1901

Henry Freund & Son, Established 1837

Rito for Better Roof Repairs

Common Market NO

Alan Enterprises Ltd, L & R Ostroff Ltd, Brick Lane

Photographs copyright © Chris Miles

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Any readers from out of town who are preparing a visit to the capital this summer might like to read these excerpts from The Stranger’s Guide, exposing all the frauds of London, that I found in the archive at the Bishopsgate Institute.

The Countryman arrived in London.

Beaten by bullies & robbed.

Escaped & chased by watchmen.

Returned home gives a queer account of London.

BAWDS – Beware, young women, of those who, without any knowledge, pretend to be acquainted with you, your families and friends. This is an old bait to entice young women to their den to be devoured by the ravenous wolves to whom the bawd is a provider. Beware, ye unthinking young men, of receiving letters of assignation to meet at her house, for such letters are calculated to ensnare you and bring you to misery and destroy your health, fame and fortune. Avoid, ye countrymen and women, the pretended friendships of strangers that welcome you to town upon the arrival of the coach and that accost you at the inns, as they generally attend there for that purpose. If you once permit them to converse with you, they will by their artful  speeches, so far ingratiate themselves into your good graces as the engage your belief, get the better of your resolutions  and at length bring  you, by listening to their stories, to ruin and destruction.

BULLIES – Are dependent upon bawds & whores, sometimes the bully pretends to be the husband of the whore, whose bread he eats, whose quarrel he fights, and at whose call he is ready to do as commanded. It is very common for these women to bring home a gentleman and on entering the house ask the maid in a whisper if her master is at home. The maid according to former instructions replies, “No, he is gone out of town and will not return until tomorrow.” Upon which the gentleman is invited in and entertained with a story of the bully’s jealousy and the whore’s constancy. When the gentleman expresses a desire to leave and the bill being called for, he finds fault with the change, then the maid enters and says her master is below and immediately the bully appears and demands to know the gentleman’s business there – if means to debauch his wife? He then blusters and talks about bringing an action but at length is pacified by the bill being discharged.

DUFFERS –  These are a set of men that play upon the credulity of both sexes, by plying at the corner of streets, courts and alleys, their contraband wares, which generally consist of silk handkerchiefs made in Spitalfields, remnants of silk purchased at the piece brokers, which they tell you are true India, and stockings from Rag Fair or Field Lane, sometimes stolen, sometimes bought at very low prices, which they declare are just smuggled in from France, and therefore can afford to give you a bargain, if you will become the purchaser. On the other hand, should you not purchase, you will get abused and your pocket picked, at which they are very dexterous. Or, should you give them money to change, they tell you they will step to the public house to get it changed and come again in an instant. Then you see them enter the house and discover later, upon enquiry, they have escaped by the back door, to your great loss and mortification.

FORTUNE TELLERS & CONJURERS –  Almost all countries abound with these vermin. In London, we have several very famous in the Astrological Science, who pretend to a knowledge of future events by observations of the celestial signs of the zodiac. The better to carry on their delusions, they can tell you whether your life will be happy or miserable, rich or poor, fruitful or barren, and thousand incidents to please your fancy and raise your curiosity, insinuating at the same time (if they think you have money about you) that much good awaits you, therefore they must have a greater price for their intelligence. Who would not give or guinea, nay two – say they for the completion of their wishes, be it wisdom or wealth,  rather than a half a crown to learn that they might live in folly and poverty the rest of their lives?

FOOTPADS –  Are so numerous and so often described in the public papers that little new light can be thrown upon them and their practices. Daring insolence and known-down arguments are generally their first salute, after which they rifle your pockets and, if you have but little of value about you, they often maim or violently bruise you for want of that you are not in possession of. These shocking acts of these rapacious sons of plunder call for the interference of the magistracy to put a stop to their daring and consummate impudence as they exhibit, in and about the metropolis, skulking in bye-lanes, desolate places, hedges and commons, in order to waylay the unsuspecting stranger or countryman.

GAMBLERS – There are so many methods of gambling as there are trades and they move in so many spheres, from the most noble dukes and duchesses to the most abandoned chimney-sweeper, pretenders to honour and honesty, versed in various tricks and arts, by which many among the nobility and the gentry have squandered away their fortunes for the occupation of a Complete Gambler or in the true sense of the word, an Expert Gambler. The better to put you on guard against this villainy, I will mention several of the most fashionable and alluring passtimes at which various methods of deluding and cheating are practiced with some success, viz. gaming houses and horse races, cock-fighting, bowling, billiards, tennis, pharo, rouge et noir, hazard &c. together with routs, assemblies, masquerades and concerts, of a particular or private nature. In the latter of these, you will find notorious gamblers of the female sex, who deal in art and deception, as well as some more notorious male cheats who barter one commodity for another without a reference of credit or making it a debt of honour.

HANGERS-ON – These are a set of men of an indolent life, who rather than labour to gain a livelihood, will submit to any meanness that they may eat the bread of idleness. There are many kinds, some pretending to understand the sciences, others the arts, some set up for authors, others wits and the like. Hangers-on will eat or drink with you wherever you stay but will never offer to pay a farthing, however in lieu thereof, they will tell you an indecent story or sing you the latest lewd song. These you will easily find out and may easily get rid of by not treating or encouraging them upon your arrival.

HIGHWAYMEN – Are desperate and resolute persons who having spent their patrimony or lavished their substance upon whores and gamesters, take to the road, in order to retrieve their broken fortunes and either recoup them by meeting with good booty or end their lives in Newgate. The best means to avoid highwaymen is not to travel by night and in be cautious in displaying money, banknotes or other valuables at the inns you put up at, and be careful what company you join for fear they learn of whither you are going and for what purpose – if to pay or receive money, they will almost certainly waylay and rob, if not murder you.

JILTS – Are ladies of easy virtue, who, through an hypocritical sanctity of manners, and pretensions to virtue and religion, draw the countryman and inexperienced cit into their clutches. Of all whores, the jilt is the most to be avoided – for knowing more than others, she is capable of doing more mischief.

KIDNAPPERS or CRIMPS –  A set of men of abandoned principles, who having lavished away their fortunes enter into the pay of the East India Company, in order to recruit their army – and, in time of war, when a guinea or two is advertised to be given to any person that brings a proper man, of five feet eight or nine inches high, these kidnappers lie in wait in different places of rendezvous, in order to entrap men for money.

RING-DROPPERS – These are a set of cheats, who frequently cheat simple people, both from the country and in London, out of their money, but most commonly practice their villainous arts upon young women. Their method is to drop a ring just before such persons come up, when they accost them thus, “Young woman, I have found a ring and I believe it is gold for it has a stamp upon it.” Immediately, an accomplice joins in, who being asked the question replies, “It is gold.” “Well” says the formers, “As this young woman saw me pick it up, she has the right to half of it.” As it often happens that the young person has but a few shillings in her pocket,  the dropper says, “If you have a mind for the ring, you shall have it for what you have got in your pocket and whatever else you can give me,” which sometimes turns out to be a good handkerchief, cloak or other article. The deluded creature then shows the ring to another person in the street who informs her she is cheated by sharpers and the ring is not worth tuppence, being only brass gilt with a false stamp put on the deceive the unwary.

PICK-POCKETS – There are more pick-pockets in and about London than in all Europe besides, that make a trade and what they call a good living by their employment. The opera, playhouses, capital auctions, public gardens &c swarm with them. And, of late years, they have introduced themselves into our very churches and more particularly Methodist meetings. Therefore it would be prudent, when in a crowd, to keep one hand on your money and the other on your watch, when you find anyone push against you. Pocket books are only secure in the inside pocket with the coat buttoned and watch chains should be run through a small loop contrived for the purpose of securing the watch in the fob.

QUACKS – These  are a set of vile wretches who pretend to be versed in physic and surgery, without education, or even knowledge of a common recipe. If they think the patient is able to pay handsomely, they make them believe their case is desperate and generally turn them out worse than they find them.

SETTERS – These are a dangerous set of wretches who are capable of committing any villainy, as well by trapping a rich heir into matrimony with a cast-off mistress as by coupling a young heiress to a notorious sharper, down to the lowest scene of setting debtors for the bailiff and his followers. Smitten at the first glance of a lady, you resign your heart and hand at discretion, which she immediately accepts, on a presumption that delays are dangerous. The conjugal knot being tied, you find the promised and wished-for land, houses and furniture, the property of another and not of yourself.

SMUGGLERS – These are a numerous race of people that have no other way of living than following the illegal practice of smuggling. Two different gangs are concerted in carrying on this wicked business, the first to import the goods from abroad and the other to dispose of them when landed, but if the first were taken and punished as they deserve, the latter would fall of course.

WAGON HUNTERS – These are errant thieves, that ply in the dusk of the evening to rob the wagons upon their arrival. They are equally skillful in cutting away portmanteaus, trunks and boxes from behind chaises &c, if not thoroughly watched, which is the duty of every driver to take care of, by attending to the vehicle under his charge and giving a good look-out.

Images courtesy Bishopsgate Institute

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Join me for tea and cakes freshly baked to recipe of 1720 served in a 300 year old house. Click here for tickets for next Saturday’s tour of Spitalfields

You only walk in the alleys if you have a strong stomach and stout shoes, if you are willing to ignore the stink and the sinister puddles for the sake of striking out alone from the throng of humanity coursing along Bishopsgate.

This whole place was once characterised by the warren of alleys and yards which laced the streets. And, when the fancy takes me to enter those that remain, it is in thrall to the delusion that maybe I can find a way back through the labyrinth to old Spitalfields. There is part of my mind that wonders if I will ever find my way out again and another part of me that yearns for this outcome, longing to find an alley that is a portal to a parallel world.

Of the alleys that tempt the innocent pedestrian emerging from Liverpool St Station, only Catherine Wheel Alley actually leads anywhere, delivering you by means of a dog-leg to Middlesex St. Stepping beneath the arched entrance and passing under the low ceiling above, you emerge behind the buildings which line the street to discover yourself at the bottom of a well where sunlight descends, bouncing off the ceramic bricks lining the walls. You walk dead straight in the blind faith that a route lies ahead and enter a tiny yard, where you may surprise a guilty smoker enjoying an illicit cigarette.

“Can I get through?” asked a lone woman I encountered, approaching from the opposite direction with a disarming lack of wariness. I stood against the wall in the yard here to consider the confluence of buildings that intersect in elaborate ways overhead and, to my surprise, a door opened in the wall behind me and an Eastern European woman asked me to step aside as she hauled out two sack of rubbish before disappearing again. From this yard, a narrow street leads uneventfully to Middlesex St – the drama of the alley diminished once the destination is apparent.

Perhaps most people avoid these empty alleys for fear of what they might discover? Individuals engaged in lewd activity or relieving bodily functions, or injecting pharmaceuticals, or threatening violence, or robbery, or worse? Yet every corner of every alley has a film camera gazing down, removing the possibility of any truly clandestine activity.

The lack of space in these passages demands that people acknowledge each other and the code of mutual disregard which prevails in the street cannot hold. This is the true magnetism of alleys, as escape routes from the hegemony of the crowd. The spatial disorientation, leaving street sounds behind you, as you enter an ambiguous architectural maze is a welcome respite. You can turn in the alley and look back to the people on the pavement, and you discover you have become invisible – they no longer see you.

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The Whitechapel Mount in 1801. Was the Mount an ancient burial mound? Was it where all the leylines converge in East London? Visit the site of the Whitechapel Mount on my new tour and discover the mystery of the Mount. Tickets are available on Sundays 23rd August, 6th and 23rd September, and 18th October. Tour includes tea and apple strudel at the Whitechapel Gallery. Click here to book

Between 2012-2014, photographer Colin O’Brien documented Whitechapel, recording the changes delivered by the Olympics and the building of the Elizabeth Line. A decade later the transformation has only accelerated.

Photographs copyright Estate of Colin O’Brien

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Colin O’Brien at the Whitechapel Mission

Colin O’Brien at the Blind Beggar

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Fifty years ago, Dragan Novaković took these pictures of the ancient Club Row animal and bird market which closed in 1983 when street trading in live animals became outlawed

Photographs copyright © Dragan Novaković

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Dragan Novaković’s Brick Lane

Kaye Webb & Ronald Searle at Club Row