At The Solidarity Britannia Food Bank
Anthropologist and Writer Delwar Hussain spoke to Lynda Ouazar who has been a running a food bank for some of the most needy people in London. Click here to support Lynda’s work

Portrait by Sarah Ainslie
Since the lockdown was announced five weeks ago, Lynda Ouazar and the network of volunteers she has assembled have been feeding hundreds of people, many of whom were starving and homeless. Working from a small community centre in Shoreditch, her team have packed up bags of fresh vegetables, pasta, lentils, cans of tuna, bread, flour, onions, potatoes, cooking oil, tea and coffee. Volunteer motorbike drivers delivered these food parcels to homes across London.
This was until earlier this week when a police raid at the community centre meant they had to leave. Thanks to Jonathan Moberly, one of the other volunteers, they now find themselves at what they hope is a more secure base in Toynbee Hall where they can continue their work undeterred. When I spoke to Lynda on her mobile phone, they had just moved in.
‘When we first started, some people were close to starving,’ Lynda explained to me. ‘They were really struggling. Before we got the delivery drivers organised, some people didn’t even have the money to travel to get the food from us. Now a number of those people that we helped have become volunteers themselves.”
The people that Lynda and the team are feeding are those who have lost their jobs due to the pandemic. Many have no legal status in this country and are not entitled to any benefits. Having worked mainly cash-in-hand, neither are they eligible for the furlough scheme. Their precarious position also means that despite government calls to landlords not to evict tenants during the lockdown, that is precisely what many have faced.
Though apprehensive and anxious about further attempts by the Home Office and the police to disrupt what they are doing, Lynda and her volunteers’ priority is to feed people in need, rather than judging their legal status.
These are people we all know. They are the people who clean our offices and homes, they drive taxis, they cook and serve food to us in restaurants and cafes, they deliver our parcels, and wash our cars. With them, we have a functioning city but, without them, the city comes to a standstill. We are all co-dependent upon each other, and in these times of the pandemic, such people are not only falling through the gaps, but they are falling fast and hard.
Lynda delivers food to one flat, which itself has become a sanctuary to fourteen others who are out of work, unable to pay their rents and now homeless. She told me of another example of a man who was discharged from two weeks in hospital only to return to his room and find that he had been evicted. There are those who live in places with no kitchens, so they have to be given food they can eat without the need for cooking. ‘Are they able to cook?’ – this is one of the first questions volunteers ask when people get in touch.
Lynda has many more examples like this, not only revealing the conditions under which people are surviving but also that they have always lived precariously. The virus has lifted the lid on the recesses and corners of our city and the neo-liberal society we inhabited.
Lynda’s operation is simple, using the money people donate to buy food in bulk and distribute it. Also local businesses are donating supplies. Those who need food either self-refer or – crucially – others do it on their behalf. Asking for food is humiliating for working people who are used to relying on themselves, who most often work in more than one job, often throughout the day and night and in uncertain, unsafe and exploitative situations.
When Lynda talked about her children, I enquired whether she is worried about catching the virus. “People told me to stay at home, why give myself the hassle of doing this?’ she replied. ‘But someone has to do it. I find it hard not to get involved. I am now working seven days a week on this. You won’t believe it but, when the virus first started, I was one of those parents that took my children out of school before they were officially closed. I was that scared for them. But then I forgot all about that fear because, for me, people in this city starving is so much more frightening. It’s a different level of fear to the one I had about the virus. Getting sick from Corona is a risk, but the situation these people find themselves in is worse. The question they are asking themselves is ‘Do you want to die of Corona or do you want to starve to death?’ And that’s not right.”

Jonathan Moberley and Lynda Ouazar


Kamil





Unloading cartons of flour at Toynbee Hall




Lynda, Jonathan & Kamil
Photographs copyright © Sarah Ainslie
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Birds Of Spitalfields
Coming across an early copy of Thomas Bewick’s ‘History of British Birds’ from 1832 inspired me to publish this ornithological survey with illustrations courtesy of the great engraver.
I have always known these pictures – especially the cuts of the robin and the blackbird – yet they never cease to startle me with their vivid life, each time I return to marvel at the genius of Bewick in capturing the essence of these familiar creatures so superlatively.
The book reminded me of all the birds that once inhabited these fields and now are gone, yet it is remarkable how many varieties have persisted in spite of urbanisation. I have seen all of these birds in Spitalfields, even the woodpecker that I once spied from my desk, coming eye to eye with it while looking into a tree from a first floor window to discern the source of an unexpected tapping outside.
The Starling
The Crow
The House Swallow
The Jay
The Woodpecker
Pied Wagtail – spotted by Ash on the Holland Estate, Petticoat Lane
Rose-ringed Parrakeet – an occasional visitor to Allen Gardens
Heron – occasionally spotted flying overhead
Buzzard – spotted over Holland Estate, Petticoat Lane
Swift – spotted by Ian Harper around Christ Church
Raven – spotted by Ian Harper & Jim Howett around Christ Church
Kite – spotted by Ian Harper & Jim Howett around Christ Church
Long-tailed Tit – spotted in Wapping
Willow Warbler – spotted by Tony Valsamidis in Whitechapel
If any readers can add to my list with sightings of other birds in Spitalfields, please drop me a line
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Agnese Sanvito’s London Queues
Photographer Agnes Sanvito sent me this series of her pictures of queues

Highbury Park

Stoke Newington Church St

Stoke Newington High St

Highbury Park

Belsize Lane

Albion Rd

Highbury Park

Stroud Green

Highbury Park

Stoke Newington Church St

“For the past few years I have been documenting people queuing to board a bus, buy a coffee or see an exhibition and most recently, during the current lockdown, for all essential needs.
Coming from Italy, queueing is an alien phenomena to me. No one else queues as the English do. Hungarian-born British author George Mikes wrote, “An Englishman, even if he is alone, forms an orderly queue of one.”
My fascination with queues starts with how people organise themselves into a fair and orderly line. Within this framework, different quirks of behaviour and posture emerge, people are checking their phones, reading, kissing, or just simply staring at the line and feeling satisfied that the queue grows.
Since the lockdown and the requirement of two metre distancing, the lines are growing even longer at local groceries, DIY shops, post offices, pharmacies and supermarket in my neighbourhood.
I hope my pictures lift you up and grant a new perspective on this strange yet significant moment we are living through.” – Agnes Sanvito



Waterloo Rd

Canary Wharf Station

Lincoln’s Inn Fields

Chalk Farm Rd

Peter St

Borough Market

Albion Rd

Stoke Newington High St at Christmas
Photographs copyright © Agnese Sanvito
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Nicholas Culpeper, Herbalist Of Spitalfields
It is my pleasure to publish this profile of the famous herbalist of Spitalfields by Patricia Cleveland-Peck, gardener and writer.
Nicholas Culpeper (1616-1654)
Of all Spitalfields’ past residents, one name stands out above others – Nicholas Culpeper, born on October 18th 1616, a herbalist and medical practitioner operating from Red Lion St (now Commercial St) who devoted his life to healing, and especially to healing the poor.
While apprenticed to the apothecary Francis Drake of Bishopsgate, Nicholas accompanied Thomas Johnson (later editor of the 1633 edition of Gerard’s Herball) on plant hunting excursions. He loved herbs since boyhood and became expert at their identification, essential in those days when almost all ailments were treated with plants. Herbals served as handbooks for doctors in which each plant was named together with its ‘virtues’ or uses. Nicholas’ skill in this subject, coupled with the fact that he was very caring, meant that the people of Spitalfields flocked to him – sometimes as many as forty a morning – and they commonly received treatment for little or no payment.
This was not popular among Nicholas Culpeper’s qualified medical colleagues who were infuriated by his view that, “no man deserved to starve to pay an insulting, insolent physician.” He also believed in “English herbs for English bodies,” and went out gathering his own herbs from the countryside for free which did not endear him to the apothecaries who often insisted on expensive imported exotic plants for their ‘cures’.
In those days, there were strict divisions between what university-educated physicians, apothecaries and barber-surgeons (who drew teeth and let blood) were allowed to do. Physicians were expensive, so for most sick people the first port of call would be their own herb garden or still room, the second the ‘wise woman’ down the road, the third a visit to the apothecary – after which, for many, there was no other option but to let the illness run its course.
In 1649, Nicholas inflamed the establishment by producing an English translation of their latin ‘bible’ the Pharmacopoeia Londinensis which included all the recipes for their medicines. Published as A Physical Directory, it not only revealed the secret ingredients but gave instructions on how to administer them – one of his most important contributions, as it provided the first effective self-help book to which people could turn.
Even more galling for the medical fraternity was the fact Nicholas had never completed his apprenticeship, and chose Spitalfields to set up a semi-legal practice because it was outside the City of London and thus not governed by the rules of the College of Physicians. Spitalfields in those days was quite different from today, beyond the site of huge priory of St Mary Spital stretched the farmland of Spital Field. The priory had been dissolved under Henry VIII although parts of the precincts were still inhabited, and it was an area which attracted outsiders like Nicholas who, as well as treating his patients, was something of a political radical. In his pamphlets, he railed against the king, priests and lawyers as well as physicians. Consequently he was no stranger to controversy and at one point was even accused of witchcraft – just one of the many troubles which accumulated to beset him during his life.
The first of these even occurred thirteen days before his life began, for it was then that his father died leaving his mother without support. She and the new-born Nicholas were obliged to return to the protection of her father, William Attersole, vicar of the little village of Isfield in Sussex. Attersole was not happy about this arrangement but, although he did not welcome the child, he did see it as his religious duty to provide instruction for him as he grew. Young Nicholas learned the scriptures and the classics, he studied mathematics and, under his grandfather’s guidance, began to take an interest in astrology which later featured in his own works. He even stole a book on anatomy out of the library (where he was only supposed to read the bible) and read it in a barn.
Importantly, he also spent a lot of time with his mother who we know owned a copy of Gerard’s Herball. She was responsible for the health of the household and, from his later works, we can glean the fact that he soon became familiar with all the local Sussex ‘simples’ or wild herbs. We know only little of this period of his life, but it is thought that he went to school in Lewes before – at the age of sixteen – setting off for Cambridge ostensibly to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps by studying theology. Once there, he began to attended lectures on anatomy and, perhaps frustrated that he couldn’t change to medicine, he spent most of his time smoking, drinking and socialising in taverns.
Yet the reason for his dropping out is a sad one. Young though he was, before leaving Sussex, Nicholas had fallen in love with Judith Rivers, a local heiress. She reciprocated his love and thus, knowing her family would never consent to the relationship, they planned to elope. They were to meet near Lewes and marry secretly, but on the way Judith’s coach was struck by lightning and she was killed. Nicholas was devastated and spent months sunk in melancholy. There was no question of his returning to Cambridge to study medicine or anything else. Eventually he chose to come to London and become an apothecary. Socially, this was a step down but he enjoyed his time at Bishopsgate and became very proficient.
Nicholas was twenty-four when he found love again. Called to treat a Mr Field for gouty arthritis, his eyes fell upon the fifteen-year-old daughter of the house, Alice. By a stroke of good fortune, she too was an heiress and it was her considerable dowry which enabled Nicholas to build a house in Red Lion St, Spitalfields from which he conducted his practice.
When the Civil War broke out two years later, the anti-royalist Nicholas signed up with Cromwell. Once his profession was discovered however, the recruiting offer commented, “We do not need you at the battlefield…come along as the field surgeon since most of the barbers and physicians are royal asses and we have use for someone to look after our injured.” Later, during the battle of Reading, Nicholas himself was wounded.
On his return to Spitalfields, he devoted himself to study and writing, and produced a number of books including a Directory for Midwives. Nicholas recognised that this was an unusual topic for a male herbalist, writing in the dedication, “If you (the matron) by your experiences find anything not according to the truth ( for I am a man and therefore subject to failings) first judge charitably of me…” Having grown up so close to his mother, Nicholas had a deep respect of women but this book may also have been inspired by some painful experiences in his own family for, although Alice bore him seven children, only one daughter lived to adulthood.
In 1652, Nicholas published his master work The English Physician also known as Culpeper’s Herbal which became the standard work for three hundred years and is still in print. It was sold cheaply and made its way to America where it had a lasting impact too. By 1665, ten years after his death, Nicholas’ name was so well-known that the Lord Mayor of London chose to use it alongside that of Sir Walter Raleigh in a pamphlet about avoiding infection from the Great Plague.
Nicholas Culpeper deserves to be remembered. He was always on the side of the underdog, he opposed the ‘closed shop’ of earlier physicians and he promoted sensible self-help. He also tried to offer reasonable explanations for what he wrote – “Neither Gerard nor Parkinson or any that ever wrote in a like manner ever gave one wise reason for what they wrote and so did nothing else but train up young novices in Physic in the School of Tradition, and teach them just as a parrot is taught… But in mine you see a reason for everything that is written.”
He died in 1654, aged only thirty-eight, of tuberculosis and is believed to be buried beneath Liverpool St Station.
Title page of the 1790 edition of Culpeper’s English Physician & Complete Herbal, published by C.Stalker, 4 Stationer’s Court, Ludgate St.
Plates from the edition published by Richard Evans, 8 White’s Row, Spitalfields, August 12th, 1814.

Red Lion House, Nicholas Culpeper’s home in Spitafields. Becoming the Red Lion Tavern after his death, the building was demolished in the eighteen-forties as part of road widening when Commercial St was cut through to carry traffic from the docks.

“Culpeper’s house, of which there are woodcuts extant, it is of wood, and is situated the corner of Red Lion Court and Red Lion Street, Spitalfields. It is now and has long been a public house, known by the sign of the Red Lion, but at the time it was inhabited by the sage herbalist, it was independent of other buildings. While in the occupation of Culpeper, who died in 1654, this house stood in Red Lion Field and was as a dispensary of medicines (perhaps the first) of very considerable celebrity.” The European Magazine and London Review, January 1812. Red Lion St and Red Lion Court as shown on John Horwood’s map (1794-99) before Commercial St was cut through in the nineteenth century.

Plaque commemorating Nicholas Culpeper installed thanks to a campaign by Spitalfields Life
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List Of Local Shops Open For Business

Gelkofff’s, Whitechapel High St by Alan Dein
Every Wednesday, I publish the up to date list of stalwarts that remain open in Spitalfields. Readers are especially encouraged to support small independent businesses who offer an invaluable service to the community. This list confirms that it is possible to source all essential supplies locally without recourse to supermarkets.
Be advised many shops are operating limited opening hours at present, so I recommend you call in advance to avoid risking a wasted journey. Please send any additions or amendments for next week’s list to spitalfieldslife@gmail.com
This week’s illustrations are East End shopfront photographs by Alan Dein from 1988. Click here to see the full collection

P.Lipman, Kosher Poultry Dealers, Hessel St by Alan Dein
GROCERS & FOOD SHOPS
The Albion, 2/4 Boundary St
Ali’s Mini Superstore, 50d Greatorex St
AM2PM, 210 Brick Lane
As Nature Intended, 132 Commercial St
Banglatown Cash & Carry, 67 Hanbury St
Brick Lane Minimarket, 100 Brick Lane
The Butchery Ltd, 6a Lamb St (Open Thursdays only)
City Supermarket, 10 Quaker St
Costprice Minimarket, 41 Brick Lane
Faizah Minimarket, 2 Old Montague St
JB Foodstore, 97 Brick Lane
Haajang’s Corner, 78 Wentworth St
Leila’s Shop, 17 Calvert Avenue (Call 0207 729 9789 between 10am-noon on Tuesday-Saturdays to place your order and collect on the same day from 2pm-4pm)
The Melusine Fish Shop, St Katharine Docks
Nisa Local, 92 Whitechapel High St
Pavilion Bakery, 130 Columbia Rd
Rinkoff’s Bakery, 224 Jubilee Street & 79 Vallance Road
Spitalfields City Farm, Buxton St (Order through website)
Sylhet Sweet Shop, 109 Hanbury St
Taj Stores, 112 Brick Lane
Zaman Brothers, Fish & Meat Bazaar, 19 Brick Lane

D. Bliss, Alderney Rd by Alan Dein
TAKE AWAY FOOD SHOPS
Before you order from a delivery app, why not call the take away or restaurant direct?
Absurd Bird Fried Chicken, 54 Commercial St
Al Badam Fried Chicken, 37 Brick Lane
Band of Burgers, 22 Osborn St
Beef & Birds, Brick Lane
Beigel Bake, 159 Brick Lane
Beigel Shop, 155 Brick Lane
Bengal Village, 75 Brick Lane
Big Moe’s Diner, 95 Whitechapel High St
Burro E Salvia Pastificio, 52 Redchurch St
China Feng, 43 Commercial St
Eastern Eye Balti House, 63a Brick Lane
Enso Thai & Japanese, 94 Brick Lane
Holy Shot Coffee, 155 Bethnal Green Rd
Jonestown Coffee, 215 Bethnal Green Rd
Laboratorio Pizza, 79 Brick Lane
La Cucina, 96 Brick Lane
Leon, 3 Crispin Place, Spitalfields Market
Nude Expresso, The Roastery, 25 Hanbury St
E. Pellicci, 332 Bethnal Green Rd
Pepe’s Peri Peri, 82 Brick Lane
Peter’s Cafe, 73 Aldgate High St
Picky Wops Vegan Pizza, 53 Brick Lane
Quaker St Cafe, 10 Quaker St
Rosa’s Thai Cafe, 12 Hanbury St
Shawarma Lebanese, 84 Brick Lane
String Ray Globe Cafe, 109 Columbia Road
Sushi Show, 136 Bethnal Green Rd
Vegan Yes, Italian & Thai Fusion, 64 Brick Lane
Yuriko Sushi & Bento, 48 Brick Lane

Schartz’s shoes, Mile End Rd by Alan Dein
OTHER SHOPS & SERVICES
Boots the Chemist, 200 Bishopsgate
Brick Lane Bookshop, 166 Brick Lane (Books ordered by phone or email are delivered free locally)
Brick Lane Bikes, 118 Bethnal Green Rd
Brick Lane Off Licence, 114/116 Brick Lane
Day Lewis Pharmacy, 14 Old Montague St
Eden Floral Designs, 10 Wentworth St (Order fresh flowers online for free delivery)
Harry Brand, 122 Columbia Road (Order gifts online for delivery)
GH Cityprint, 58-60 Middlesex St
Leyland Hardware, 2-4 Great Eastern St
Post Office, 160a Brick Lane

S. Steptowe & Son, Ben Jonson Rd by Alan Dein
ELSEWHERE
City Clean Dry Cleaners, 4a Cherry Tree Walk, Whitecross St
E5 Bakehouse, Arch 395, Mentmore Terrace (Customers are encouraged to order online and collect in person)
Gold Star Dry Cleaning & Laundry, 330 Burdett Rd
Hackney Essentials, 235 Victoria Park Rd
Quality Dry Cleaners, 16a White Church Lane
Newham Books, 747 Barking Rd (Books ordered by phone or email are posted out)
Region Choice Chemist, 68 Cambridge Heath Rd
Symposium Italian Restaurant, 363 Roman Road (Take away service available)
Thompsons DIY, 442-444 Roman Rd

A. Levy Lld, Woollens, Goulston St by Alan Dein
Photographs copyright © Alan Dein
So Long, George Gladwell
Known as the grandfather of Columbia Rd Flower Market after trading there for over seventy years, George Gladwell has died of the coronavirus aged ninety-one.

Portrait by Jeremy Freedman
This is George Gladwell selling his busy lizzies from the back of a van in Columbia Rd Market in the early seventies, drawing the attention of bystanders to the quality of his plants and captivating his audience with a bold dramatic gesture of presentation worthy of Hamlet holding up a skull.
George traded continuously at the market from 1949 until this spring. He died on Sunday 19th April at 6:05pm, the time he would traditionally have been pulling his van out of the market. Below you can read George’s own account as he recounted it to me, telling the story of more than seventy years in the flower market, accompanied by a selection of his photographs.
“I arrived in this lonely little street in the East End with only boarded-up shops in it at seven o’clock one Sunday morning in February 1949. And I went into Sadie’s Cafe where you could get a whopping great mug of cocoa, coffee or tea, and a thick slice of bread and dripping – real comfort food. Then I went out onto the street again at nine o’ clock, and a guy turned up with a horse and cart loaded with flowers, followed by a flatback lorry also loaded with plants.
At the time, I had a 1933 ambulance and I drove that around to join them, and we were the only three traders until someone else turned up with a costermonger’s barrow of cut flowers. There were a couple more horse and carts that joined us and, around eleven thirty, a few guys came along with baskets on their arms with a couple of dozen bunches of carnations to sell, which was their day’s work.
More traders began turning over up over the next few months until the market was full. There were no trolleys then, everything was on the floor. Years ago, it wasn’t what you call “instant gardening,” it was all old gardeners coming to buy plants to grow on to maturity. It was easy selling flowers then, though if you went out of season it was disappointing, but I never got discouraged – you just have to wait.
Mother’s Day was the beginning of the season and Derby Day was the finish, and it still applies today. The serious trading is between those two dates and the rest of the year is just ticking over. In June, it went dead until it picked up in September, then it got quite busy until Bonfire Night. And from the first week of December, you had Christmas Trees, holly and mistletoe, and the pot plant trade.
I had a nursery and I lived in Billericay, and I was already working in Romford, Chelmsford, Epping, Rochester, Maidstone and Watford Markets. A friend of mine – John – he didn’t have driving licence, so he asked me to drive him up on a Sunday, and each week I came up to Columbia Rd with him and I brought some of my own plants along too, because there was a space next to his pitch.
My first licenced pitch was across from the Royal Oak. I moved there in 1958, because John died and I inherited his pitches, but I let the other four go. In 1959, the shops began to unboard and people took them on here and there. That was around the time public interest picked up because formerly it was a secret little market. It became known through visitors to Petticoat Lane, they’d walk around and hear about it. It was never known as “Columbia Rd Flower Market” until I advertised it by that name.
It picked up even more in the nineteen sixties when the council introduced the rule that we had to come every four weeks or lose our licences, because then we had to trade continuously. In those days, we were all professional growers who relied upon the seasons at Columbia Rd. Although we used to buy from the Dutch, you had to have a licence and you were only allowed a certain amount, so that was marginal. It used to come by train – pot plants, shrubs and herbaceous plants. During the war, agriculture became food production, and fruit trees planted before the war had matured nicely. They sold masses of these at the Maidstone plant auctions and I could pick them up for next to nothing and sell them at Columbia Rd for two thousand per cent profit. Those were happy times!
In the depression at the end of the nineteen fifties, a lot of nurserymen sold their plots for building land because they couldn’t make it pay and it made the supply of plants quite scarce. So those of us who could grow our own did quite well but, although I did a mail order trade from my nursery, it wasn’t sufficient to make ends meet. Hobby traders joined the market then and they interfered with our trade because we were growers and kept our stock from week to week, but they would sell off all their stock cheap each week to get their money back. I took a job driving heavy haulage and got back for Saturday and Sunday. I had to do it because I had quite a big family, four children.
In the seventies, I was the first to use the metal trolleys that everyone uses now. My associates said I would never make it pay because I hocked myself up to do it. At the same time, plants were getting plastic containers, whereas before we used to sell bare roots which made for dirty pitches, so that was progress. All the time we were getting developments in different kinds of plants coming from abroad. You could trade in these and forget growing your own plants, but I never did.
Then in the nineties we had problems with rowdy traders and customers coming at four in the morning, which upset the residents and we were threatened with closure by the council. We had a committee and I was voted Chairman of the Association. We negotiated with the neighbours and agreed trading hours and parking for the market, so all were happy in the end.
It’s been quite happy and fulfilling, what I’ve finished up with is quite a nice property – something I always wanted. I like hard work, whether physical or mental. I used to sell plants at the side of the road when I was seven, and I used to work on farms helping with the milking at five in the morning before I went to school. I studied architecture and yet, as a job, I was never satisfied with it, I preferred the outdoor life and the physical part of it. Having a pitch is always interesting – it’s freedom as well.”
There is an air of informality about the market as it is portrayed in George’s pictures. The metal trolleys that all the traders use today are barely in evidence, instead plants are sold from trestle tables or directly off the ground – pitched as auctions – while seedlings come straight from the greenhouse in wooden trays, and customers carry away their bare-rooted plants wrapped in newspaper. Consequently, the atmosphere is of a smaller local market than we know today, with less stalls and just a crowd of people from the neighbourhood.
You can see the boarded-up furniture factories, that once defined Bethnal Green, and Ravenscroft Buildings, subsequently demolished to create Ravenscroft Park, both still in evidence in the background. I hope sharp-eyed readers may also recognise a few traders who continue working in Columbia Rd Market today.
Over the years, many thousands of images have been taken of Columbia Rd Flower Market, but George Gladwell’s relaxed photographs are special because they capture the drama of the market seen through the eyes of an insider.
Albert Harnett
Colin Roberts
Albert Playle
Bert Shilling
Ernie Mokes
The magnificently named Carol Eden
Fred Harnett, Senior
Herbie Burridge
George Burridge, Junior
Jim Burridge, Senior
Kenny Cramer
Lou Burridge
Robert Roper
Ray Frost
Robert Roper
George Burridge

George Gladwell (1928-2020)
Colour portraits © Jeremy Freedman
George Gladwell’s family wish to thank the Macmillan Nurses and and those at Basildon Hospital who gave end-of-life care.
George’s funeral is at 2.30pm, May 18th 2020. Donations to Farrer Funeral Directors, 33 High St, Billericay, CM12 9BA
Messages, photos and donations to Macmillan can be submitted to the George Gladwell Tribute Fund
Phil Maxwell’s Kids on The Street
In Spelman St
Photographer Phil Maxwell has taken more pictures on Brick Lane than anyone in the past thirty years. These vibrant images of children running free upon the streets of Spitalfields are selected from his vast personal archive held at the Bishopsgate Institute. “Most of these pictures are twenty to thirty years old.” he admitted to me, “There aren’t any contemporary photographs because I don’t take pictures of kids these days, not least because there aren’t any on the street anymore.”
Phil’s lively photographs are evidence that – not so long ago – the streets of Spitalfields belonged to children, offering them an extended playground, including the market, waste land and derelict houses, where they roamed without adult supervision.
“When I first started taking photographs in Liverpool, the children in the street would demand that I take their photographs but that wouldn’t happen today.” Phil recalled, “In those days, children were a constant presence upon the streets in every city, playing their games and enjoying themselves. In the East End in particular, a lot of children played on the street because they lived in restricted conditions – so the street was the space where they were free to run around and discover things.”
In Swanfield St
On Brick Lane
On Brick Lane
In Commercial St
On Brick Lane
In Hanbury St
On Brick Lane
In Cheshire St
In Bethnal Green Rd
On Brick Lane
On Whitechapel Rd
On Brick Lane
In Buxton St
In Arnold Circus
In Cheshire St
On Brick Lane
Photographs copyright © Phil Maxwell
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