Leman St, in a model universe
Walking home down Leman Street this week, I noticed a shop under the railway arch that had never caught my eye before and, intrigued by the sign Model Shop, I went inside. Here was the largest, most comprehensive selection of miniature things I have ever seen in my life.
But the adventure was only just beginning, because then I met Zyg Jarzembowski, the enthusiastic goateed proprietor, who kindly offered me a tour of the workshops. And so, like Charlie following in Willie Wonka’s footsteps, I set out with anticipation into the secret cavernous spaces beneath the railway arches that contain Britain’s largest manufacturer of all model things. This is where the parts for Philip Pullman’s Golden Compass came from and where James Bond’s passport was printed too.
In a maze of windowless workshops, bright-eyed enthusiasts explained their specialities to me. I was captivated by John, the tree man, who gestured nonchalantly to some shelves where they keep a permanent stock of at least 350,000 miniature trees and then showed me his colour chart for customers to select their preferred tone of foliage. I noticed “Foster green” on the chart – developed for our most distinguished architect, who gets all his trees custom-made here. In the tree department (below), there was a predominance of palms, reflecting the high level of activity by British architects on projects for the Middle East. In fact, they showed me the mould labelled “Foster arabs” for making the people to accompany these models.
London is a city of multiple hidden worlds, it is one of the qualities that characterises our metropolis and makes it so endlessly fascinating. Yet whenever I discover another of these microcosms, I am always surprised at its existence. If by chance it had not caught my eye that day, I should never have discovered this astounding miniature universe under the railway arch.
I was completely intoxicated by the commitment of Zyg and his staff of perfectionists. So that as I continued my walk home up Leman Street, I dreamt of commissioning a model of Spitalfields with every detail exact.
I think I may be going back to Model Shop one day.
The Bollards of Spitalfields
Down Hanbury Street, on the corner of Brick Lane and also on the corner of Wilkes Street, stand hefty cast iron bollards that you have walked past a thousand times. Put up in 1819 to mark the boundary of Christ Church Parish in Middlesex, they have been sturdy silent witnesses of life here over two centuries. 1819 was the year of the first financial crisis in America, the Peterloo Massacre and the opening of the Burlington Arcade.
Children run round them in play, young couples part momentarily to pass on either side and old people steady themselves by placing a hand upon them. Thus, years have passed and the marks of the iron casting have become smoothed by human touch.
No longer is the parish of Christ Church in Middlesex, because as London has spread to become Greater London, Middlesex has shrunk. While the notion of a parish itself might be redundant, these cast iron posts now serve to protect us from cars that could drive up onto the pavement.
There is another I have noticed, over in Durward Street, recently spruced up with fresh gloss paint by the council – crudely highlighting the lettering. At the back of Whitechapel Tube where it stands, there is nothing else surviving from then. It alone evidences an earlier world. I enjoy this contradiction, that what is most mundane, functional and disregarded might be the oldest thing.
If you share my interest in such minutiae, there is now a website documenting overlooked Design Details in our neighbourhood. Click on the link to learn more.
Onions from Leila’s Shop
These are the most beautiful onions in the world. I bought them for £1.10 in Leila’s Shop at 17 Calvert Avenue next to Arnold Circus. Not that the quality of Spring Onions was something that has ever come to my attention before, but I think this is maybe the point – Leila caused me to think differently and pay attention to quality of something as familiar as onions.
It is almost impossible for me to walk past Leila’s shop without succumbing to curiosity and stepping inside to see what is new. Regularly, I leave clutching a small brown paper bag with a dark moist slice of gingerbread inside to lift my spirits. This is something that can make my day. When they are in season, I have bought highly scented Narcissi from the Scilly Isles here and Bluebells from Cornwall too. Leila always tries to keep English flowers in stock, in fact whenever I ask where any of her stock comes from, whether a little bag of Lapsang Souchong or a large jar of Honey, there is always a story attached.
It is not fancy or posh, but everything about Leila’s shop is unique with a lyrical sense of poetry. Leila understands that eating should be never be just another bodily function, she knows that food can be an inspiration. There will not be a chain of Leila’s Shops and that makes this tiny place – the expression of one woman’s passion – very special indeed.
It touches me because I identify with her love of detail in simple things, and the aspiration that even a bunch of Spring Onions can bring joy.
My Spitalfields garden
Maybe you have wondered what kind of garden I have, where I plant my Columbia Road purchases each week? Let me say, it is a privilege to have a garden in the centre of London – even if it is a small one like mine here in Spitalfields. Before I began to renovate last year, it was overgrown with evergreen shrubs and bamboo interspersed with those white quartz chips you see in graveyards.
To start, it took me a week to sieve the soil and remove the stone chips. Then I dug out the ugly shrubs and spent weeks squatting in the rain pulling out every tiny stubborn rhizome of bamboo until my fingers bled. Next, I mulched the soil with barrows of well-rotted manure that I wheeled down the road from the Spitalfields City Farm. Finally, I laid out a small central square of beach pebbles and bordered it with scallop shells kindly provided by Mr Button, the fishmonger in the Roman Road.
There is an old tree creating a canopy over my garden and I love looking out of the first floor windows into it – I can watch squirrels and even the occasional woodpecker from my desk. However, the tree means my garden gets little sun or rain and I have to choose plants accordingly.
Although I have planted shade tolerant plants, disappointingly many never came to flower this year and I understand now why my predecessors planted shrubs. But there’s no going back and, through self-selection, I am discovering the right plants for my garden. In particular, Foxgloves thrive and, as you can buy them at the Coppermill Market in Cheshire Street for a pound each, I have been planting them en masse in every corner I can find.
Next spring, you will see the results.
So long, Patsy Kelly & Reg Fuller
This wreath appeared at the top of Brick Lane recently to commemorate the life of Ada Patsy Kelly (maiden name, Fuller) who for many years worked on the Sunday fruit and vegetable stall at this site. She died at the venerable age of ninety four. You will be pleased to know that the stall is continued by her younger brother Reg Fuller (below) and I hope to see him there for many years to come.
A year later, I regret to report that Reg is gone too and now there will always be a space at the top of Brick Lane where they used to be. (updated 13th November 2010)
My life as an ant
As part of the Open House London 2009, I was able to visit the Broadgate Tower and One Bishop’s Square this weekend. The photo above shows Spitalfields viewed from the seventeenth floor of the Broadgate Tower (half way up). I was impressed by the clarity of spatial arrangement within this building which has open floors, each occupying an entire storey without partition walls. The floors are steel, the ceilings are white and the windows create an uninterrupted wall of glass from floor to ceiling all round the building.
When we reached the seventeenth floor, the entire party gasped at the spectacle of light, as we stepped from the elevator to be confronted by jaw-dropping views to the Olympic Stadium in one direction and the Millennium Wheel in the other.
By contrast, One Bishop’s Square is labyrinthine and grim with a dominance of dark surfaces and sinister gloomy atriums – like some high-tech prison or private mental clinic. What a strange experience it was to walk around in the basement through the auditorium and corporate gym, in the same “space” I had once walked, years ago, through artists’ studios under the old market building that previously stood here. Regrettably, it does seem that the effort that has been taken to place this new structure discreetly within the site of the former market has resulted (in spite of its vast size) in a cramped and introverted edifice.
I was relieved to escape onto the beautiful roof garden planted with lavender and offering this striking perspective on Christ Church, Spitalfields .
Columbia Road Market 4
After Saturday night’s downpour, the air was cool and clear as I set out for the market. Many more bulbs are in evidence now, but I passed these by wistfully because last year I planted so many and the squirrels ate them all. Instead, for five pounds I bought four Michaelmas Daisy (the feast of Michaelmas is 29th September) to bring some seasonal colour to my border where the Lupins, Penstemons, Astrantia, Gentian and Eryngium have all passed their flowering season. I chose the soft blue that is the most characteristic colour for Michaelmas Daisies and with a bit of luck these will now return year after year.
As you can see, I had company in the garden this morning while planting my Michaelmas Daisies.
