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Raju Vaidyanathan’s Brick Lane

March 5, 2021
by the gentle author

Back of Cheshire St, 1986

“I used to climb up on the railway bridge and take photos,” explained photographer Raju Vaidyanathan when he showed me this picture which he has seen for the first time only recently even though he took it thirty years ago. A prolific taker of photos around Spitalfields, Raju possesses over forty thousand negatives of people and personalities in the neighbourhood which, after all this time, he is now beginning to print.

“I was born in Brick Lane above the shop that is now called ‘This Shop Rocks,’ and I still live on the Lane. My father, Vaithy came to this country in 1949, he was brought over as one of the very first chefs to introduce Indian cooking and our family lineage is all chefs. They brought him over to be chef at the Indian embassy and the day he arrived he discovered they had already arranged a room for him and that room was on Brick Lane, and he lived there until he died.

In 1983, I managed to get hold of an old camera that someone gave me and I started taking photos. As a kid I was very poor and I knew that I was not going to be able to afford take photos, but someone said to me, ‘Instead of taking colour photos, why don’t you take black and white?’ I went to the Montefiore Centre in Hanbury St and the tutor said he would teach me how to process black and white film. So that is what I did, I am a local kid and I just started taking photos of what was happening around me, the people, the football team, the youth club – anything in Brick Lane, where I knew all the people.

Photography is my passion but I also like local history and learning about people’s lives. Sometime in the late eighties, I realised I was not just taking photographs for myself but making a visual diary of my area. I have been taking photos ever since and I always have a camera with me. I am a history collector, I have got all the Asian political leaflets and posters over the years. In the Asian community everyone knows me as the history guy and photographer

Until a few years ago, I had been working until nine or ten o’clock every night and seven days a week at the Watney Market Idea Store but then they restructured my hours and insisted I had to work here full time. Before, I was only working here part-time and working as a youth worker the rest of the time. Suddenly, I had time off in the evenings.

People started saying, ‘You’ve got to do something with all these photos.’ So I thought, ‘Let me see if I can start sorting out my negatives.’ I started finding lots put away in boxes and I took a course learning how to print. For a couple of years, I went in once a week to print my photos and see what I had got. I bought a negative scanner and I started scanning the first boxes of negatives. I had never seen these photos because I never had the money to print them. I just used to take the photos and process the film. So far, I have scanned about eight thousand negatives and maybe, once I have sorted these out, I will start scanning all the others.”

Junk on Brick Lane, 1985

Outside Ali Brothers’ grocery shop, Fashion St 1986. His daughter saw the photo and was so happy that his picture was taken at that time.

Modern Saree Centre 1985. It moved around a lot in Brick Lane before closing three years ago.

BYM ‘B’ football team at Chicksand Estate football pitch known as the ‘Ghat’ locally, 1986

108 Brick Lane, 1985. Unable to decide whether to be a café or video store, it is now a pizza shop.

‘Joi Bangla Krew’ around the Pedley Street arches. The BBC recently honoured Haroun Shamsher  from Joi (third from left) and Sam Zaman from ‘State of Bengal (far left) with a music plaque on Brick Lane

Myrdle Street, 1984. Washing was hung between flats until the late nineties.

Chacha at Seven Stars pub 1985. Chacha was a Bangladeshi spiv and a good friend of my father. Seven Stars was the local for the Asian community until it closed down in 2000.

Teacher Sarah Larcombe and local youths (Zia with the two fingers) on top of the old Shoreditch Goods Station, which was the most amazing playground

Halal Meat Man on Brick Lane, 1986

Filming of ‘Revolution’ in Fournier St, 1986. The man tapping for cash was killed by some boys a few months later.

Mayor Paul Beaseley and Rajah Miah (later Councillor) open the Mela on Hanbury Street, 1985

The Queen Mother arrives at the reopening of the Whitechapel Gallery, 1986

Raju Vaidyanathan on Brick Lane, 1984

Photographs copyright © Raju Vaidyanathan

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Laurie Elks’ Bottle Label Collection

March 4, 2021
by the gentle author

Laurie Elks is celebrated in Hackney as the custodian of St Augustine’s Tower, but before he arose to these lofty heights he practised the art of stewardship by amassing this magnificent collection of bottle labels, organised with loving care in a scrap book that he has cherished through the years.

“When I was a boy I collected all sorts of things and I think I acquired my bottle label collection when I was eleven or twelve, so the labels come from early sixties.  I wrote off in my schoolboy handwriting to all the breweries I could think of, telling them I was collecting beer bottle labels and most of them wrote back with a little packet of labels which I stuck in my album with Gloy gum.  I doubt whether they would write back today.  I must have looked up the addresses of the breweries in the London phone book as I cannot think of any other search strategies that would have been available to me at the time.” – Laurie Elks

If any other readers have ephemera collections I could publish please get in touch

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The London Alphabet

March 3, 2021
by the gentle author

Although this Alphabet of London in the archive at the Bishopsgate Institute dates from more than one hundred and fifty years ago, it is remarkable how many of the landmarks illustrated are still with us. The original facade of newly-opened ‘Northern Station’ which is now uncovered again – at the terminus we know as ‘King’s Cross’ – reveals that this alphabet was produced in the eighteen fifties. The Houses of Parliament which were begun in 1840 and took thirty years to complete were still under construction then and, consequently, Big Ben is represented by an undersized artist’s impression of how it was expected to look. Naturally, I was especially intrigued by – “O’s the market for Oranges, eastward a long way. If you first ask for Houndsditch you won’t take the wrong way.” I wonder which East East market this could refer to?

 

Pictures courtesy Bishopsgate Institute

Alan Shipp, Hyacinth Grower

March 2, 2021
by the gentle author

With spring bulbs flowering in the garden, my thoughts turn towards the arrival of hyacinths

‘I could not imagine what my life would have been like without hyacinths’

One blustery day, I took the train up to Waterbeach outside Cambridge to visit Alan Shipp, Hyacinth Grower who cultivates two hundred and forty-three different varieties of this favourite flower, which are all in full bloom now. I stood in the rain, inhaling the fragrance of the gentle breeze wafting over Alan’s field of hyacinths, flourishing in the rich soil of the silted water-meadows of the River Cam.

Alan Shipp is Britain’s only Hyacinth Grower and is also the Custodian of the National Collection of Hyacinths. He has the world’s largest collection of varieties and knows more about this intriguing plant than anyone else alive. In other years, Alan has opened his hyacinth nursery to the public at peak flowering time, drawing international press attention to the tiny village of Waterbeach for this celebrated event in the horticultural calendar, which can attract over a thousand enthusiasts – travelling from far and wide to gawp at this incomparable hyacinth spectacle.

The lines of multicoloured hyacinths stretch to horizon. They seem to sing against the black soil. The rain makes them shine and then the sun makes them glow, luminous with light beneath a dark East Anglian sky. Alan Shipp & I stood alone together in the field contemplating the hyacinths in silent pleasure – until the storm broke, when we took shelter in Alan’s greenhouse where he told me the astonishing story of his life in hyacinths, as the rain hammered on the glass and the wind rattled the panes around us.

“In the eighteen-eighties my grandfather, Thomas Shipp, won a pony and whip in a raffle. To put it to some use, he managed to borrow a harness and cart, and went round door to door selling vegetables. Then he bought a piece of ground and started growing his own, and that is this piece of ground. That was how it all started, growing fruit and vegetables.

Eventually when my father, Kenneth Shipp, got involved, he started wholesaling the produce we grew ourselves. In the fifties, we started selling imported fruit too which we used to bring up from Spitalfields Market on Monday and Wednesday each week.

At the entrance to the Floral Market on Lamb St in Spitalfields was the Floral Cafe and I can still remember the bacon sarnies. It was a whole slice of fried gammon between two pieces of bread. We used to try and get there at four-thirty or five – it was a wonderful atmosphere. The owner was a chap called Leonard Swindley. I said to him once, ‘I’ve seen the porters just walk behind the counter, make themselves a jug of tea and disappear. You can’t carry on like that, you’re being robbed!’ He replied, ‘Can you think of a happier way of losing money?’ I left the argument defeated.

We stopped selling produce after one of our salesmen left and set up on his own in opposition. We had been growing acres and acres ourselves but the method of vegetable production changed out of all recognition. We would have a little plot of a couple of hundred square metres of leeks that we would plant by hand but today, two miles away, there is a field of one hundred and forty-five acres of leeks. To get a reasonable living, we needed a larger farm but I know of no land that has come up for rent in Waterbeach in the last thirty years.

So in 1985, I decided I could best increase the output per acre by becoming a hyacinth grower. It was just sheer chance. There was a clearance sale at a bulb nursery at the the other side of Cambridge, including hyacinth bulbs. So I bought one hundred, twenty each of five different varieties, and planted them because I had always been a very keen gardener. After the leaves died down, I dug them up and moved them elsewhere but there was one that I missed. It had rolled under a shrub. When I found it next summer, it had put its roots down but the rest of the bulb had been eaten away where it was exposed and, upon this surface, small bulbs had formed. The slugs had actually illustrated for me the method of propagating hyacinths.

I thought, ‘I wouldn’t mind doing this,’ so I got a planting stock from Taylors Bulbs of Holbeach. Their general manager gave me advice, he said, ‘Alan, don’t grow many varieties.’ I didn’t really heed his advice because I now have two hundred and forty-three. And that’s how I got started!

I discovered there was a National Collection of Hyacinths at Barnard Castle and I got in touch to say that, as I was the only hyacinth grower in the country, I was willing to propagate for them free of charge. They brought me two bulbs each of fifty varieties that I propagated and which became the nucleus of my collection. I seemed to come up against a wall, regarding getting more varieties, after one hundred and eight varieties. Then I got a letter from a lady in Lithuania who had a collection of hyacinths that she had assembled from all over the former Soviet Union – things I’ve never heard of, things that we thought were extinct! She’d got the names but knew nothing but about them so I sent her my research and we exchanged bulbs.

I thought I had missed double-flowered yellow hyacinths by one hundred years but lo-and-behold she had got two – one with a name and one unidentified. The one with the name was in catalogues from 1897 and the other I grew as ‘unidentified double-yellow hyacinth.’ Then in 2013, by sheer chance, a friend of mine came across an illustration of it by Mary Delany in the British Library. That was the world’s first double-yellow hyacinth, introduced in 1770! When it was introduced, it was £800 a bulb yet Mary Delany had painted it, so I wondered how she got access. But it was reported she had contact with Court and it was George III’s bulb that she illustrated at the time he was at Kew Palace in Kew Gardens. So that was a breakthrough.

I am on the Royal Horticultural Society’s Bulb Committee. It was the ‘Daffodil & Tulip Committee’ but, in 2012, the remit embraced all bulbs and we had an intake of other specialists. One of them was Alan Street from Avon Bulbs who regularly wins a gold medal at the Chelsea Flower Show. ‘Alan,’ he said, ‘I’ve got an unusual hyacinth, it’s red and white. I can tell you’ve heard of it by the look on your face.’ It was Gloria Mundi.

Hyacinth Mania was a hundred years after Tulip Mania. It was started by the Scottish Horticulturalist Peter Voorhelm who found a white double hyacinth with a rosy coloured centre in 1708. Previously, all double hyacinths had been discarded as inferior because they are deformed by extra petals in the middle, but he so liked this one that he propagated it and called it Konig Van Groot-Brettanje in honour of William of Orange – and that started Hyacinth Mania for white doubles with coloured centres.

Gloria Mundi was a lost variety of white double with a coloured centre in the catalogues in 1767. Alan Street had a friend in Switzerland called Ingrid Dingwell and Ingrid had a gardening friend who was a lorry driver called Theo, who took a load of humanitarian aid to Romania during the Ceaucescu era to remote village with a population of three hundred and seventy-odd souls. Theo’s friend fell in love with a local girl and married her, and Theo was given hospitality by the bride’s father at the wedding. To show his gratitude, Theo gave the bride’s father a pocket watch and the old man asked Theo to help himself to any plant growing in the garden, including bulbs of a hyacinth called Gloria Mundi. Theo gave them to Ingrid who sent them to Alan Street who grew them for fifteen years, oblivious of what he had. The year after I identified them, Alan took a pot to the RHS and they were given an award, two hundred and fifty years after the variety had been lost.

I cannot say that what I do is much of a business, it is more a hobby that gives a little bit of income and the selling of the bulbs has financed the conservation scheme. Without my work, the National Collection of Hyacinths would have just disappeared. I have saved well over a hundred varieties of hyacinths from extinction. At eighty-one years old, the next problem I have is who is going to carry it on after me? I am looking for someone.

I love hyacinths. There is their fragrance, there is their beauty. There is no other flower that can give you this range of colours at the end of March. If someone gave me a paint chart, I could match every colour on it with hyacinths. I would have a job to get black but I could get pretty close to it.

They are so fascinating. They are all evolved from just the one wild species growing from eight hundred to a thousand metres in the hills at the border of Iran, Iraq, Syria and Turkey. It is believed that the Romans may have brought them to Europe because there is a sub-species which grows on the Mediterranean coast of France. How did hyacinths get from the Levant to there, unless they were taken as bulbs by the Romans and gone feral?

The first recorded introduction of hyacinths to Europe was by the Flemish Botanist Carolus Clusius who was appointed Prefect of the imperial gardens in Vienna in 1573 by Ferdinand II. Ferdinand’s ambassador to Turkey was Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq and he brought back tulips, crocuses, cyclamen and hyacinths to the palace gardens – all the bulbs from the Levant. Unfortunately, Ferdinand died that year but Clusius got a job at the botanic garden in Leyden and took the bulbs with him. That was the start of the Dutch bulb industry.

Clusius may have introduced hyacinths to Britain when he visited in 1590 and John Gerard records growing them in his garden in London in 1597. Hyacinths would undoubtably have been included among the ‘florists’ flowers,’ along with tulips, carnations, auriculas and roses, grown competitively in the East End during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. In the Victorian era, florists’ competitions were rampant up and down the country, and hyacinths always featured.

Hyacinths have formed my life. They have got me onto the RHS Bulb Committee, brought me lots of friends and won me worldwide recognition – probably got me into the Rotary Club too. To be honest, I could not imagine what my life would have been like without hyacinths. How did I ever live without them?”

Alan Shipp, National Hyacinth Collection, Waterbeach, Cambridge, CB25 9NB.

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The Spirit Of London, 1935

March 1, 2021
by the gentle author

Paul Cohen-Portheim’s The Spirit of London of 1935 is republished by Batsford Books this week with a new introduction by Simon Jenkins and the original cover design by Brian Cook.

Cohen-Portheim was a German-born Austrian artist and travel writer who was interned here during World War I yet, improbably, his enforced stay made him fall in love with Britain and, in particular, London.

London Drizzle

‘No one knows exactly where London is, where it begins and ends, or how many people inhabit it.’

Ludgate Circus

‘In London, the past is not dead, the City is alive, and alive its Abbey and Cathedral, and its Georgian squares and Victorian clubs and houses of legislature or law. As alive as the latest white concrete cube or super-cinema, and as much of the present as of the past.’

St Paul’s and the spires of Wren’s City churches

‘It is because Wren’s churches had to remain hidden in narrow alleys that he gave all his thoughts to their spires, and as a result the City possesses what no other city in the world can show: a co-ordinated group, a harmony of all its church spires conceived by one master builder.’

St Paul’s seen from the Thames

Pool of London

Billingsgate Market

Lombard St in the City of London on Sunday morning

‘No other capital knows such uncanny emptiness and quiet as that of the City on Sunday’

Commuters crossing London Bridge

‘It is most fascinating to watch the human masses pouring in from railway and tube stations and over the bridges’

Unemployed people sleeping in Hyde Park

‘There is nothing to prevent the most ragged from lying down on the grass where the chairs of fashion stand.’

Clerkenwell ice men

‘It is the poor foreigners who are noticeable, for their numbers are very great and they congregate in certain districts, and it is these foreign settlements which make London a cosmopolitan city.’

Watercress barrow

Dining Rooms

Aldgate Pump

‘The City ends at Aldgate and the East End begins’

Petticoat Lane

‘Sunday is the best day for this pilgrimage. You will find the Lane not only alive but teeming, swarming, screeching and bellowing on its market day. The older inhabitants retain their dress of Russia or Poland, the younger are gaudily elegant, and all are immensely busy and boisterous.’

A street in Whitechapel

‘The East End is one of the most mysterious places in the world, it looks mean and drab, and this impression is chiefly due to the lack of height in its buildings. Apart from the great main roads, it is just a maze of alleys of little low brick houses of darkened brick.’

A court in Shoreditch

‘It is the people who give interest to the East End streets. On Saturday nights, Whitechapel Rd is thronged with people parading up and down.’

Demolition in Stepney

At the Prospect of Whitby in Wapping

Clapton dog track

Cover design by Brian Cook

THE SPIRIT OF LONDON is published this week by Batsford 

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Winter At Spitalfields City Farm

February 28, 2021
by the gentle author

On the last day of February, I introduce the first of four features in collaboration with Contributing Photographer Rachel Ferriman, documenting the seasons of the year at Spitalfields City Farm

It was at the end of a long winter that I came to Spitalfields City Farm, the snow had only just thawed and the trees were still barren of leaves. There is a compelling poetry in the unexpected presence of agriculture in the city and it always makes my heart leap to hear animal cries in this urban setting, connecting me to the rural landscape beyond and reminding us how these fields once were before they were built up.

This has been a quiet and lonely winter at the farm without any school groups or visitors during the lockdown but, in spite of this, the life and work of the place goes on with farmhands coming every day, whatever the weather, to tend to their charges both animal and vegetable. Last Christmas, the donkeys did not get to feature in local nativity plays as they usually do, instead this has been a time for the farmhands to concentrate on mundane tasks of maintenance. Thus I felt especially privileged to be let in through the tall gates to visit the farmyard for my report and pay my respects to its inhabitants.

The Spitalfields City Farm is not large, just the size of the small city block between Allen Gardens and Thomas Buxton School to the east of Brick Lane. Yet once inside, it is all encompassing within a maze of pathways leading off between ramshackle sheds and greenhouses to paddocks and ponds where the resident menagerie are to be found. In the hazy distance, the towers of the City of London can be seen piercing the horizon but they recede into irrelevance when viewed from the vegetable garden.

It was the responsibility of Jenny Bettenson, Farmyard Manager, to care for the livestock during the recent cold snap. ‘We had to take buckets and kettles of drinking water to the animals when the temperature dropped below freezing,’ she revealed to me. ‘It got down to minus seven one night – the coldest I have known it in the thirteen years I have been here – so we had to do extra work insulating the animal houses and keeping them draught free. We made sure they had extra hay and extra food. We gave the chickens extra corn because if they have full bellies, they are going to be digesting and creating their own warmth. Some of the older animals have coats, the goats wear winter jackets and the elderly ferrets have heat pads that we put in the microwave to warm them up.’

I was fascinated to learn there is a parallel lockdown going on in the animal kingdom.  ‘While we have our pandemic of coronavirus,’ Jenny explained, ‘the ducks and poultry have their own pandemic of avian influenza, brought in by migratory flocks, so we have had to keep our birds under lockdown to protect them. It started in December at the same time as the human lockdown and the government will decide when they are allowed out again, so it really does mirror what’s going on with us. As the season progresses and the migratory birds leave, the risk will go down and the lockdown will be lifted.’

‘It has been tough not having visitors,’ Jenny admitted to me. ‘We are here to educate, to teach students about animal welfare, how to grow plants and mend fences, so we are looking forward to when we can offer those opportunities again. We can’t promise anything, but are hoping to hatch some rare breed chicks for Easter.’

While I am looking forward to spring and the end of lockdown – both human and avian – now I shall also be looking forward to my next visit to the farm to report to you on the progress of the seasons and the arrival of new life.

Distant towers of the City of London beyond

On a snowy morning, Holmes the pig only came out of his warm sty when he heard the voices of the farm team

A goat in a coat

Yurt in the snow

Sweeping the henhouse where the poultry live safe from foxes

Goats munching on Christmas trees

Tanya checking on vegetable seedlings in the polytunnels

Tess winter weeding the polytunnels

Tess harvesting the last of the Kohlrabi

Winter salad leaves – chard, kohlrabi, kale and fennel – aromatic and delicious

Bella the farm cat

Volunteer Yanne digging the manure heap, used in rotation once well rotted

Yanne adding compost to the raised beds in the polytunnels in preparation for sowing seeds

Yanne visits one day a week and volunteers with the team

Gold Sebright hens – the farm champions rare and rescue breeds

Goat keeping an eye on passersby in the farm yard which is quieter without visitors

The sheep in their ‘Worshipful Company of Woolmen’ shelter

Beatrix the one-eared sheep

Holmes the pig is very affectionate and likes to chat with people passing

Photographs copyright © Rachel Ferriman

Support the work of the Spitalfields City Farm

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Spires Of City Churches

February 27, 2021
by the gentle author

Spire of St Margaret Pattens designed by Christopher Wren in the medieval style

I took my camera and crossed over Middlesex St from Spitalfields to the City of London. I had been waiting for a suitable day to photograph spires of City churches and my patience was rewarded by the dramatic contrast of strong, low-angled light and deep shadow, with the bonus of showers casting glistening reflections upon the pavements.

Christopher Wren’s churches are the glory of the City and, even though their spires no longer dominate the skyline as they once did, these charismatic edifices are blessed with an enduring presence which sets them apart from the impermanence of the cheap-jack buildings surrounding them. Yet they are invisible, for the most part, to the teeming City workers who come and go in anxious preoccupation, barely raising their eyes to the wonders of Wren’s spires piercing the sky.

My heart leaps when the tightly woven maze of the City streets gives way unexpectedly to reveal one of these architectural marvels. It is an effect magnified when walking in the unrelieved shade of a narrow thoroughfare bounded on either side by high buildings and you lift your gaze to discover a tall spire ascending into the light, and tipped by a gilt weathervane gleaming in sunshine.

While these ancient structures might appear redundant to some, in fact they serve a purpose that was never more vital in this location, as abiding reminders of the existence of human aspiration beyond the material.

In the porch of St James Garlickhythe

St Margaret Pattens viewed from St Mary at Hill

The Monument with St Magnus the Martyr

St Edmund, King & Martyr, Lombard St

St Michael Paternoster Royal, College Hill

Wren’s gothic spire for St Mary Aldermary

St Augustine, Watling Street

St Brides, Fleet St

In St Brides churchyard

St Martin, Ludgate

St Sepulchre’s, Snow Hill

St Michael, Cornhill

St Mary Le Bow, Cheapside

St Alban, Wood St

St Mary at Hill, Lovat Lane

St Peter Upon Cornhill

At St James Garlickhythe

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