At Abbey Wood
Serving Hatch
Only recently did I learn that there is an abbey and a wood at Abbey Wood. Stunned by my own obtuseness, I set out to discover what I have been missing all these years. Visiting ruins was a memorable feature of childhood holidays, leaving a residual affection for architectural dereliction that has persisted throughout my life.
There is a familiar style of presentation in which the broken fragments of wall are neatly cemented in place while the former internal spaces are replaced by manicured lawns. This is the case at Lesnes Abbey in Abbey Wood, augmented with simple metal signs indicating ‘kitchen’ or ‘garderobe’ which set the imagination racing.
On leaving Abbey Wood station, my enthusiasm was such that I headed straight up the hill into the woods where I was overjoyed to discover myself entirely alone in an ancient forest of chestnut trees, filled with squirrels busily harvesting the chestnuts and burying them in anticipation of winter. Descending by a woodland path was perhaps the best way to discover the old abbey, situated upon a sheltered plateau beneath the hills yet raised up from the Thames and commanding a splendid view towards London.
Lesnes Abbey of St Mary & St Thomas the Martyr was founded in 1178 by Richard de Lucy, Chief Justice of England, as penance for the murder of Thomas A Becket. Richard retired here once the abbey was complete but died within three months. For centuries, the abbey struggled with the cost of maintaining the river banks and maintaining the marshlands productively. As a measure of how far it declined, it was closed by Cardinal Wolsey in 1525 as part of programme of shutting monasteries of less than seven residents, before the abbey was eventually destroyed in 1542 as one of the first to be subjected to the Dissolution of the Monasteries.
After demolition, the building materials were salvaged and the abbey was forgotten until Woolwich & District Antiquarian Society rediscovered it, excavated the ruins in 1909 and the site became a park in 1930.
One of the last sunny afternoons at the end of a long summer was the ideal occasion for my lone pilgrimage. I stood to gaze upon the ancient ruins and lifted my eyes in contemplation of the distant towers of contemporary London, wondering where the events of our time will lead. Then I walked back up into the forest and it crossed my mind that I if I followed the woodland paths long enough and far enough, maybe I could come back down the hill and enter the time when the abbey flourished and witness it as it was once, full of life.
Stairs to dormitory
The burial place of the heart of Roesia of Dover, great great granddaughter of the founder of this abbey, Richard de Lucy
West door of the church
Four hundred year old Mulberry tree, dating from the reign of James I
Chestnuts at Abbey Wood
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Peta Bridle’s City Of London Sketchbook
Peta Bridle sent me this latest series 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.’
‘I like drawing outside and, even when the lockdown was lifted, the City was empty and quiet so I rarely saw another person. Drawing was the thing that kept me going and brightened my week.’
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.’ It became rather cold in the park whilst I was drawing so please forgive the shaky lines!’
Shakespeare Memorial, Garden of St Mary Aldermanbury
‘I drew this sketch on a mild day in January. 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
‘Ball Court was empty during the lockdown. 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 in January. 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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Peta Bridle’s Gravesend Sketchbook
Chris Kelly & Dan Jones In The Playground
Hopscotch at Columbia School, Bethnal Green, 1997
When photographer Chris Kelly sent me these exuberant pictures taken in East End primary schools, I realised it was the ideal opportunity to invite Dan Jones to select children’s rhymes to complement her playful images, drawing from the thousands he has collected in playgrounds here and elsewhere since 1948.
Asked to produce photographs for an education brochure, Chris Kelly turned up at six schools between 2000 and 2002 with camera, lights and optimism. There was never any shortage of ideas or young art directors, and the pictures you see here are the result of a collaboration between photographer, teachers and pupils, with the children aways having the biggest say.
Meanwhile, the heartening news from the playground that Dan Jones has to report is that the culture of rhymes is alive and kicking, in spite of the multimedia distractions of the modern age. The endless process of repetition and reinvention goes on with ceaseless vigour.
Susan Lawrence Junior School
School dinners, school dinners,
Squashed baked beans, squashed baked beans,
Squiggly semolina, squiggly semolina.
I feel sick! Get a bowl quick!
It’s too late, I done it on the plate!
(Manya Eversley, Bow)
Susan Lawrence Junior School
Everywhere we go
Everywhere we go
People always ask us
People always ask us
Who we are
Who we are
And where we come from
Where we come from
So we tell them
So we tell them
We’re from Stepney
WE’RE FROM STEPNEY
Mighty, mighty Stepney!
MIGHTY, MIGHTY STEPNEY!
And if they can’t hear us,
IF THEY CAN’T HEAR US
We sing a little louder
WE SING A LITTLE LOUDER!
(Call and response chat from Rushmore Junior School)
Bonner Primary School
Inky Pinky Ponky,
Daddy had a donkey.
Donkey died,
Daddy cried,
Inky pinky ponky!
(Dip from St Paul’s Church of England School, Wellclose Sq)
Susan Lawrence Junior School
Zum gali gali gali,
Clap clap clap
Zum gali gali
Clap clap clap
Zum gali gali
Clap clap clap
Zum
clap clap clap
We can work with joy as we sing
Clap clap clap
We can sing with joy as we work
Clap clap clap
(Israeli round from the children of Kobi Nazrul School)
Olga Primary School
Pepsi Pepsi came to town,
Coca Cola shot him down,
Dr Pepper picked him up,
Now they order Seven Up!
(Clapping game from Honor, Sadia, April and Jahira of Bangabundu Junior School)
Bangabandhu Primary School
Im Pim Safety pin
Im pim
Out!
Change your nappies inside out
Not because they’re dirty
Not because they’re clean
Not because your mother says
You’re the Fairy Queen!
(Counting out rhyme from the children of Bangabandhu Primary School)
Holy Family Roman Catholic Primary School
London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down.
London Bridge is falling down, My Fair Lady.
Build it up with sticks and stones, sticks and stones, sticks and stones.
Build it up with sticks and stones, My Fair Lady.
Sticks and stones will wear away…
Build it up with iron and steel…Iron and Steel will rust away…
Build it up with bricks and clay…Bricks and Clay will wash away…
(Arch game from children of Bluegate Fields School, Stepney)
Susan Lawrence Junior School
Down in the valley where nobody goes,
There’s an ooky spooky woman who washes her clothes.
With a rub-a-dub here and a rub-a-dub there,
That’s the way she washes her clothes.
(Clapping game from children of St Paul’s Church of England School, Wellclose Sq)
Susan Lawrence Junior School
Please Mr Porter, may we cross your water
To see your lovely daughter, swimming in the water?
(Chasing game for running across the playground at St Paul’s Church of England School, Wellclose Sq)
Marion Richardson School
Once I had a snail
And I 1 it
I 2 it
I 3 it
I 4 it
I 5 it
I 6 it
I 7 it
I ATE (8) it
(Riddle from Colin and his mother at Museum of Childhood, Bethnal Green)
Holy Family Roman Catholic Primary School
Racing car number 9
Losing petrol all the time
How many gallons did you lose?
(6!)
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
You’re OUT!
(Counting out rhyme from Shamima, Natalie Abida and Shazna of Hermitage School, Wapping)
Susan Lawrence Junior School
Twinkle, twinkle, chocolate bar, Daddy (or Mummy) drives a rusty car
Push the button, pull the choke,
Off we go in a puff of smoke,
Twinkle, twinkle, chocolate bar, Daddy drives a rusty car.
(Miming game from infants at Christchurch School, Brick Lane)
Olga Primary School
I like coffee
I like tea
I like climbing up the tree
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
(Dip from the children of Year 4 Christchurch Primary School, Brick Lane)
Holy Family Roman Catholic Primary School
Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay!
My knickers flew away
They came back yesterday
From a little holiday
I said “Where have you been?”
They said ‘To see the Queen
At Windsor Castle!”
You little rascal
(Comic song from Katie, Lizzy Alison (Ashford) at Museum of Childhood, Bethnal Green)
Susan Lawrence Junior School
Olicker Bolicker
Suzie Solicker
Ollicker boliker
Knob!
(Dip from Sonny and Marina of Wapping)
Holy Family Roman Catholic Primary School
Ecker decker,
Johnny Cracker,
Ecker decker do,
Ease, cheese,
Butter, bread,
Out goes you
(Counting out rhyme from Columbia School, Bethnal Green)
Bonner Primary School
Jee Jai Jao (Brother-in-law)
Kabhi upor Kabhi nicheh (You’re going up, you’re going down)
Kabhi ageh Kabhi pitcheh (You’re going in front, you’re going behind)
Kabhi eke Kabhi ekh dui teen (Going 1. Going 2. Going 1, 2, 3)
Pushu! (Punch!)
(Hindi dip from Christchurch Primary School, Brick Lane)
Susan Lawrence Junior School
Boom Boom
Shakalaka
Out goes you
Out goes another one
And that is YOU
(Dip from children of Bangabundhu School)
Holy Family Roman Catholic Primary School
In a golden treasure, with an East and a West,
I took my boyfriend to the Chinese shop.
He bought me ice-cream, he bought me a cake,
He sent me home with a bellyache.
I said: “Mama, Mama, I feel sick.
Call me a doctor quick, quick, quick!
Doctor, Doctor, am I gonna die?”
“Count to five if you’re alive
With a 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10
You’re dead again!”
(Skipping song from children of year 5 at Arnhem Wharf School)
Holy Family Roman Catholic Primary School
Miss Polly had a dolly that was sick sick sick
(Rock baby in arms)
She called for the Doctor to come quick quick quick
(Hold telephone to ear)
The doctor came with his bag and his hat
(Touch imaginary bag and hat)
And he knocked on the door with a Rat Tat Tat Tat!
(Knock on door)
He looked at the dolly and he shook his head
(Shake head)
He said “Miss Polly, put her straight to bed”
(Wag finger to indicate telling her off)
He wrote out a paper for a pill pill pill
(Write on imaginary paper)
“I’ll be back in the morning with my bill bill bill”
(Clapping and miming game from Rukhaya and Siobhan at Christchurch Primary School, Brick Lane)
Holy Family Roman Catholic Primary School
Sally go round the sun,
Sally go round the moon,
Sally go round the chimney pots
on a Sunday afternoon.
WHOOPS !
(Dancing game from Redriff Primary School, Rotherhithe)
Photographs copyright © Chris Kelly
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Chris Kelly’s Columbia School Portraits 1996
Chris Kelly’s Cable St Gardeners
and read about
Here are some earlier collections of photography of children in the East End
John Boulderson, A Limehouse Mariner
Sally Jeffery introduces the life of mariner John Boulderson, one of those featured in her book, Mailrunning: Three Eighteenth-Century Atlantic Lives.
In Limehouse
John was born in Ratcliff. Beneath its accretions of wharves and tenements lay a low red cliff which had once been a landmark for early seafarers coming upstream and seeking the gravelly landing among the marshlands. Never a parish, the hamlet of Ratcliff is a reminder that the main road into the city was always the broad looping highway of the Thames. On a coloured print of Rocque’s 1766 map, the river looks like a fat blue shiny snake. The hamlets clinging to the banks – Wapping, Shadwell, Ratcliff, Limehouse on the north bank, Bermondsey, Rotherhithe, Deptford to the south – grew up on land reclaimed from the water and John, like most of the inhabitants, made their living from the river one way or another.
He was baptised John Philips Boulderson in 1717 at St Dunstan’s, Stepney, son of a fly-by-night painter-stainer named Joseph who probably worked in one of the small shipyards in Shadwell. The wider family included several shipwrights on both sides of the Atlantic who were not so much migrants as itinerant craftsmen. John had a few years’ schooling at the parochial school in Shadwell or one of the Ratcliff charity schools. Most likely he studied at the Ratcliff Hamlet school in White Horse Street. Founded in 1710, its subscribers included numerous sea captains. The school clothed its pupils and paid for their apprenticeships.
In 1674, a group composed mainly of ships’ masters set up the Stepney Society with the purpose of paying for orphans and the children of the poor to be apprenticed in the marine trades. The society’s status rose in the next century under the patronage of Sir Charles Wager, a Rochester-born rear-admiral who brought more admirals and other magnificos on board. It may have been under this scheme that in 1733 John Boulderson was apprenticed aged sixteen to a lighterman named Thomas Barnes at St Katharine’s just below the Tower, who loaded and unloaded cargoes by the Custom House quay.
By the end of his seven years’ apprenticeship John went to sea on the ships the lightermen served. In 1740 he was living on Risby’s Ropewalk in Limehouse shared with a mariner named John Smith, whose sister he would later marry. Four years later, aged not quite twenty-seven, John sailed as boatswain on the Baltimore, a merchant ship commanded by Jerningham Bigg of Limehouse. War with France had been declared and the vessel was armed. After trying their luck at privateering in the Channel for a while, they headed for the colonial province of Maryland with a consignment of swords, guns, powder and ball destined for the provincial government.
The Baltimore’s owner Samuel Hyde had offices in Rood Lane, a few minutes’ walk from the Custom House and legal quays between London Bridge and the Tower. Cargoes were inspected there by the Customs men, with variable results. One London merchant wrote in 1771 to his partner in Maryland: ‘I find that the duty on hams is taken off so that, if any of my friends would be so polite as to present me with one now and then, you may assure them there is no danger from the Customs House officers. I likewise have discovered a method to get safe a few bottles of such good old spirit as we used to have. Should anyone incline that, I should drink their healths with it. I now and then keep company with Z. Hood Esq, who is very friendly indeed, but, Jonny, you know we have studied the art of smuggling.’ (Zachariah Hood had been a colonial tax official)
The year after the Baltimore left Maryland for London, there came press reports of a fight off Ostend between British men-of-war and French privateers. The privateers had taken four Atlantic merchantmen and three smaller vessels, the Baltimore among them. The navy ships recaptured the French prizes, but only by running them aground, and themselves also, both sides still firing.
A correspondent in Ostend wrote: ‘I have just been down to the Sands (where they all lye) on board the Royal Privateer who had 40 Men kill’d and 30 wounded, the Dutchess de Penthievre had 30 kill’d and as many wounded, and their Sails so shatter’d that they are Sieves: The Royal’s Main-sail is stain’d all over with Blood, and the Blood in great Quantity ran out of her Scupper-Holes. Our Loss is so trifling that it is hardly to be credited.’
The Baltimore remained stranded, only the cargo of tobacco was salvaged. Unsurprisingly perhaps, after the fight off Ostend John seems to have washed his hands of the merchant trade. He returned home to Limehouse and joined the Post Office packet service.
John married Katherine Smith in June 1746 at St Katharine by the Tower. The Bouldersons remained at Risby’s Ropewalk for ten years, where Katherine gave birth to four children before 1755, when no more children were born for another eight years. A reasonable deduction would be that John had found work on the Dover–Ostend packet service, then transferred to the Falmouth–New York route when it was launched in 1755, while Katherine and the children remained in Limehouse until he could establish himself in the west. They knew the perils of his occupation, especially in wartime when the packets sailed under government orders to defend the mail to the last.
After John got his own command on the Falmouth packet service in 1759, his family joined him in Cornwall and there were more children, with the Bouldersons becoming a substantial Falmouth clan.
Only one of John’s children returned to the Thames. After a career with the East India merchant fleet, his son, Falmouth-born Joseph Boulderson, was appointed Superintendent of the new London Dock at Wapping which opened in 1805. An engraving of the opening ceremony features a top-hatted gentleman standing on the deck of a ship about to enter the dock, who is evidently the Superintendent. The man beside him decorated with a garter star is Earl Camden, Secretary of State for War, who appears to be pointing to a flag-bedecked vessel.
On closer examination, the Superintendent seems to have his hand cupped to receive a backhander from the Earl, who may in fact be pointing to the young women conspicuously arranged on the dock wall, rather than to the ship. The artist was Edward Francis Burney, who worked mainly as an illustrator but also produced satirical watercolours.
Stepney from the 1755 edition of Stow’s Survey of London
Map of Ratcliff & Limehouse from John Rocque’s 1746 Plan of London
Limehouse by Robert Dodd, 1793
The Custom House by Louis-Philippe Boitard, 1757
At Custom House Quay
A view of the opening of the London Docks Wapping on the 31st January 1805, Edward Francis Burney, 1805
In this detail, Joseph Boulderson, Superintendent of the London Dock, can be seen cupping his hand to receive a backhander from Earl Camden, Secretary of State for War, who is pointing out the young women on the dock.
Click here to order a copy of Sally Jeffrey’s ‘Mailrunning: Three Eighteenth-Century Atlantic Lives’
You may like to read another story by Sally Jeffery
John Bringhurst, Seditious Printer
Just Another Day With John Claridge
Cobb St, Spitalfields 1966
One morning in 1966, photographer John Claridge met these four men working in Cobb St, Spitalfields. “They were bloody silly,” recalled John fondly half a century later, “and there’s not enough of that in this world.” It was John’s way of introducing this set of pictures to me, published here for the first time, which he entitles“Just Another Day.”
“They were good people – full of fun – and this picture was nice to take, it has a warmth to it.” he added, upon contemplation of the image. And, if there is a common quality among these pictures, it is an open-hearted delight in the quotidian, or as John puts it –“The daily things that people do, going to work, stopping at the corner, visiting the shops.”
Where others might find only the mundane, John sees the poetry of the human condition. There may be endless sleet in Spitalfields, freezing fog in Victoria Park, and the passengers are eternally falling asleep on the early train out of Upton Park, yet John always reveals the joy and the humanity of his subjects. A generous spirit informs his photographs.
“Some of these pictures are of life drifting by,” John informed me, “because there are gentler ways of seeing the world than the obvious.”
Cup of tea, Spitalfields 1966.
Kosher butchers, Bethnal Green 1962 – “It wasn’t very big and it did have a certain smell to it.”
The cap, Spitalfields 1982 – “I love the things you don’t know as well as the things that are explained.”
Four men, Spitalfields 1982 – “You could create your own story with that.”
The baker at Rinkoffs, Vallance Rd, Bethnal Green 1967 – “Having a cup of tea and enjoying a breath of fresh air as the light’s coming up.”
Rinkoffs, Bethnal Green 1967
Breaker’s yard, E16 1975 – “I was talking to her dad and she just wandered off and got in the car.”
Feeding the birds in Victoria Park, E3 1962 – “there was ice on the lake.”
Passing the graveyard, 1970s
Bridge repair, E3 1960s
The crane, E16 1975 – “I printed this photo for the first time last week.”
SOS motors, Spitalfields 1982
Sewer Bank, Plaistow 1960s – “Where the kids used to go on their bikes and I’d take my scrambler. The craters were fantastic, it was a different kind of playground.”
In Plaistow, 1961 – “Just down the road from where I lived. It certainly has a lot of charm to it, look at how little traffic there is. That could be my dad on the bike, coming back from the docks.”
Station stairs, Upton Park 1963 – “Sometimes I met my mum here after school, when she was coming back from Bow where she worked as machinist making shirts.”
Station entrance, Upton Park 1963 – “I like stations, it’s that feeling you get of arriving on a film set.”
Leaving Plaistow early morning in winter, E13 1963 – “I had a motorbike but I liked going on the tube if the traffic was bad.”
The shed, Plaistow 1969 – “This was at the top of the street where I lived. He used to go round with that barrow and pick things up, and sell bits and pieces in that shed. A very nice man and a gentleman.”
End of the day, Spitalfields 1963.
Photographs copyright © John Claridge
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Along the Thames with John Claridge
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A Few Diversions by John Claridge
Signs, Posters, Typography & Graphics
Views from a Dinghy by John Claridge
In Another World with John Claridge
A Few Pints with John Claridge
Some East End Portraits by John Claridge
Sunday Morning Stroll with John Claridge
The Signs Of Old London
The little wooden midshipman outside Solomon Gillis’ chandlery, 157 Leadenhall St
Even though most of the signs of old London were destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666, a few created just after that date survive today in the City – anachronisms affixed to modern buildings, as if they were Penny Blacks stuck onto Jiffy padded envelopes. Yet in the Bishopsgate Institute archive, I found plenty of atmospheric pictures of curious stone plaques which lasted into the era of photography, only to be destroyed by the blitz and subsequent redevelopment.
It was Charles I who gave people the right to hang out signs as they pleased, when once they were restricted to innkeepers – “for the better finding out such citizens’ dwellings, shops, pubs or occupations, without impediment, molestation, or interruption to their heirs or successors.” An elaborate language of symbols quickly grew in the common understanding, such as a dragon for an apothecary, a sugar loaf for a grocer, a wheatsheaf for a baker, a frying pan for a confectioner, and – as still seen in Spitalfields today – a spool for a silk weaver.
As time went by, the meanings of the signs became more complex and arcane as shops changed ownership but retained the signs as identifiers of the buildings. James Maddox, the coffin maker at St Olaves had the symbol of three coffins and a sugarloaf, the sugarloaf because it was a former grocers and three coffins as his personal device. Opposite St Dunstan’s in Fleet St, a sign of three squirrels first put up by Henry Pinkley the goldsmith in 1649, was appropriated by the bankers who moved in afterwards, and this symbol of the three squirrels continued to be used by the National Westminster Bank until the mid-twentieth century.
Lombard St was once famed for its array of magnificent signs, and eighteenth century prints show quaint symbols hung upon elaborate wrought iron brackets outside every single premises in Cornhill and Cheapside. Anticipating our modern concern with brands and logos, these devices suited the city before streets were numbered and when many of the populace did not read. But during heavy weather and in strong wind, these monstrous signs creaked and groaned – and, in 1718, a huge sign in Bride St collapsed killing four people and taking part of the shop front with it. Such was the severity of the problem of the forest of hanging signs crowding the streets of London, that a commission was appointed in 1762 to take them all down and fix them onto the shopfronts – thereby creating the modern notion of the fascia sign declaring the identity of the premises.
“The Commissioners are empowered to take down and remove all signs and emblems, used to denote the trade, occupation or calling – any sign posts, sign boards, sign irons, balconies, penthouses, show boards, spouts and gutters projecting into the streets etc, and all other encroachments and projections whatsoever in the said cities and liberties – and cause the same, or such parts thereof as they think fit to be affixed or placed on the front of the houses, shops, alehouses or buildings to which they belong.”
Street numbers were only in partial use at the beginning of the eighteenth century, becoming widespread by the end of the century as a standardised system to identify properties. Although many were reluctant to give up the language of signs and symbols, by the middle of the nineteenth century, the signs were commonly replaced by the familiar pattern of a board with signwriting above the shopwindow. Most of the decorative signs to found in the City of London today are pastiches created a hundred years ago as nostalgic tributes to a bygone age, though two favourites of mine are the golden owl on the House of Fraser, facing South over London Bridge, and the figure of Atlas holding up the globe on the exterior of Barclays in Cheapside.
Just three signs remain in common usage, the barbers’ pole (with its bloody red and white stripe recalling when barbers were also surgeons), the chemists’ pestle and mortar, and the pawnbrokers’ three balls – originally blue, they turned gold in the early nineteenth century and are said to be based upon the crest of the Dukes of Medici, itself derived from coins taken by Crusaders from Byzantium.
At the sign of the Fox in Lombard St.
At the sign of the Three Kings in Lombard St.
At the sign of the Half Moon in Holywell St, off the Strand.
A physician.
A locksmith.
At the sign of the Lamb & Flag
The grasshopper, symbol of industry and personal emblem of Sir Thomas Gresham who founded the Royal Exchange, is to be found all over the City of London even today.
At the sign of Three Squirrels in Fleet St.
At the sign of the Bull & Mouth in Aldgate.
This was the symbol of the Cutlers.
Child’s bank at the sign of the Marigold in Temple Bar.
In Ely Place, off Hatton Garden – this mitre came from an episcopal palace and was set into the wall of a public house.
The maid of the Mercer’s company is still to be seen in Corbet Court off Gracechurch St.
An old sign that remains in situ outside St Paul’s tube station.“When ye have sought the Citty round, yet still this is the highest ground. August 27th 1698”
“- an old sign affixed to a modern building, like a Penny Black stuck onto a Jiffy padded envelope.”
Photographs courtesy Bishopsgate Institute
This Is Jimmy’s London
Excerpts from ‘This is London‘ produced as a guide for servicemen & women in 1944
In these war-time days, when official guide books are not obtainable, a quiet perusal of ‘This is London’ will be of inestimable service to visitors, making a ‘leave in London’ something memorable and, as Jimmy says, well worth keeping a diary of.
“..to the Bank..”
I don’t know anything about London and the sooner I set out to learn the better and the quicker I’ll know it. There’s only one way to learn about any town and that is to walk as much as you can. It’ll knock some of the strangeness out of you. You won’t feel you’re a stranger in the place. You won’t feel as if everyone is looking at you and telling themselves that you are a stranger. Believe me, it’ll help you feel a lot better.
The Green Park
I wanted to walk along the pavements, to watch the people, to visit places whose names were so familiar to everyone in the world. Talk about walking the paths of history, I was tickled pink.
“…Charing Cross Rd as a Free Library…”
Whether you are a reader on no, it is well worth spending a few minutes, few hours for that matter, watching the various types of people who stand, hour after hour, at the bookshops, browsing. I’m firmly convinced that very many Londoners regard Charing Cross Rd as a Free Library, and I’m equally certain that booksellers look benignly on these non-profitable customers.
“…down Wapping Way..”
To find funny little pubs with funny little bars and mix with all kinds of people, I think it’s the wisest thing anyone could do and it’s what I’ve always longed to try. There are no tough spots. Go to the poorest quarter in the East End and you’ll meet with politeness. Go into a pub down by the docks. It may not be luxurious, but you’ll find that everyone is nice there. You’ll hear the occasional ‘damn’ and, if there’s no women in the place, you’ll hear much worse.
Dirty Dick’s I won’t forget in a hurry. A unique place if ever there was one. I think the story of the original landlord who allowed everything to get into such a disgusting state of dirt and cobwebs is more or less fictitious. It’s quite close to Liverpool St Station and, although it, like many other place, received some damage during the blitz, the landlord still carries on, just as do all other Londoners.
In Hyde Park, some of the orators take their job very seriously, others look upon it as a kind of rag, entering into cross-talk with their audiences with such obvious pleasure. I don’t think I would like to be an earnest speaker there for occasionally the heckling is terrific. How these speakers can possibly hope to make themselves heard, speaking as they do one against the other, is more than I can understand.
I went to Covent Garden Market and tried to understand what it was all about, tried to make sense of what the salesmen were saying. They have a jargon all their own while the porters astonished me by throwing enormous weights about with a nonchalance that is truly amazing.
In St James’ Park
Where else but in London could one see the unexpected glimpse of a State trumpeter, his tunic, the scarlet and gold of medieval pageantry, glinting in the sun – and the inscrutable eyes of an aged Chelsea Pensioner who watched him fixedly?
Of course, I’ve read my Pepys and that gives a very fair picture, but while I’m fond of seeing historical buildings, links with the past so to speak, I much prefer the present.
A fellow would have to be dead from the neck up if he couldn’t enjoy the London Zoo. The Zoo is obviously a Londoner’s playground, everyone is eager to see as much as possible and the groups around each cage or enclosure become, for the moment, a band of friends.
The Embankment where artists in chalk ply their trade and pray for fair weather …
… and schoolboys read ‘penny dreadfuls’ in the shadow of mysterious Egypt.
Thankyou London, for all those memories. Thankyou London!
