A Passage To The East End

Behind the money making powers; behind the glass and concrete towers; behind The Suits and the expensive watches ticking to the work day; behind the booms and the busts and the redundancy pays; behind the lunch sandwiches and Friday pints...lies one of the many streets of the East End of London.

I wandered into one of them and brought back a few snapshots....

...and something tells me they hide more than a few stories.
I'll be going back for more.

The Mews of Kensington

If you're not British, chances are that the title of this post is making you think cats. As much as I would personally love to dwell upon all things feline, I'd like you to think of horses instead. Good. Let us proceed. 

As Wikipedia will tell you, and as I learnt as a student of City Design in London a few years back, Mews is one of those British English oddities that actually describes a row of stables built around a (mostly) cobbled street or square and dating from the 17th and 18th Centuries. Hence horses. However, if you think the fauna references end here, you're wrong. The term actually originates from the 'mews' or partitioned row of quarters that were used to keep falcons! And why 'mews' then? Oh, you see, the term actually originates from the French term 'muer', which means 'to change', and which was used because the falcons were kept in these quarters when they were changing..er..moulting. Go figure. Is the mind sufficiently boggled? Glad to be of service. 

In those wonderful times, when people engaged in dreaming up confusing names for simple things, these mews were usually attached to the properties of wealthy families in London, and the stable hands or servants would live in small quarters above the stables themselves. So the mews were actually stables-sum-servant-quarters with a mini community space in the street or square around which they were built. Over time, they went on to become infamous for their seediness and filth - places where the rich and cultured would never set foot.

Today, however, in keeping with the great tradition of boggling the mind, these are some of the most coveted properties in London and have a slew of famous names attached to them. From the outside they look nearly the same as they did three centuries back, but the insides have gone from smelly shabby stables to the poshest modern conversions one can think of. You would be hard pressed to find a mews property under a couple of million these days (yes, that's in pound sterling) and at a supply of only about ten thousand of such charming dwellings with an actual community of their own in London, it isn't hard to see why. 

Welcome to the mews of Kensington in London. 

 

 Of peaceful cobbled streets, arched entrances and winding alleyways...

 

Of picture-book prettiness and quaint quirkiness...

Of famous names - past and present.

I spent an afternoon roaming around in the mews of Kensington, under the threat of looming skies about to burst any moment - the winter greyness that I so hate. Amazingly though, this grey light lent a very contextual atmosphere to my flaneuring this day, making my experience all the more surreal and wonderful. I sighed and sighed, wishing I were living here and wondering how many banks I'd have to rob in order to buy one of these. Perhaps some of you should start paying me for writing this blog and taking so many pictures! About time, I say. Hmmph.

The Old Lady of the City

Apologies dear readers! I know I have been tardy in posting and responding to your comments and emails this month. The only excuse I have to offer is that my offline life has demanded a bit more of my attention lately - all for good stuff - and that kept me away, albeit unwillingly. This has been my longest absence from this blog since I started it 11 months back and believe me I have missed it and you all like nothing else!

But I didn't stop 'flaneur-ing', clicking and writing in all this time (I rarely ever do). I assure you that my tardiness has only been limited to sharing it all with you, and here I am, setting that right!

So what have I been up to? For starters, soaking in as much of the Christmas lights as possible - you didn't think I was kidding when I was worshipping light in the last post, did you? I cannot help but gravitate towards light in this cold dreary London winter.

Welcome to the old world charm of Leadenhall Market in the City of London.

Leadenhall Market is probably one of the oldest in the UK. Its origins (by virtue of its location, not the present physical form) can be traced back to - hold your breath - AD40! The market itself dates back to the 14th Century. Over the ages, it has taken several avatars under several rulers and periods and several reconstructions. It has gone from being a leather market to a cutlery market to the present day chic-apparel-cum-pub/cafe-hotspot. It was severely damaged in the Great fire of 1666 and rebuilt in the 1880s by Sir Horace Jones (prolific builder of markets around London at the time). The present building was last renovated completely in 1991 when the market was reopened for the general public in its modern avatar. But most of the old architectural detail has been conserved and enhanced further by the City of London council's sensitive urban design interventions.

I think it's a beautiful structure, made prettier by this year's Christmas lights.

I cannot help but think of the analogy of tasteful jewellery on a wrinkled but beautiful old lady who stands in stark contrast to the young 'uns around her, but outshines them with her old-worldly grace.

Coming up: A new series about a certain part of London that the urban designer/planner and history lover in me is completely in love with. Also, with this blog's first birthday coming up in January, there is a lot that is about to happen on this blog! :)

A brief walk down Hammersmith Bridge

This post is for my father, who's retiring this month, after spending nearly 45 years in a brilliant career as a civil and structural engineer - a career that took him all over the world and made him one of the best known and regarded names in his field in India and abroad. His MSc thesis was on bridges. I'm sure he'll have an opinion on this bridge too when he sees this. :)

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One of the things I love about London is how small and large pieces of history litter the city wherever you look. Sometimes a simple street corner will reveal layers - peel after peel of interesting stories - if you only care to look and listen. Sometimes history will manifest itself in a grand architectural monolith that persists - oblivious of change all around it, resistant to destruction, defying centuries full of instances of human madness. Of several such examples around London, the Hammersmith Bridge is one.

The first time I saw this bridge, about two years back, I was startled by its very greenness. My very first reaction to it was somewhere along the lines of "Oh God, what a monstrosity", but there's something about this bridge that grows on you. (Grows, greenness - ha ha! Alright, never mind.)

(click on pictures to enlarge)

The bridge has a very interesting history. It was the first suspension bridge across the Thames, commissioned by an Act of Parliament in 1824, designed by William Tierney Clarke. In that incarnation, it was a stone bridge with two towers with Tuscan arched entrances standing over two brick piers. The bridge was hugely popular for watching the famous University Boat Race on the Thames, and started to become alarmingly overloaded with traffic and people. It was closed down in 1884 and rebuilt by Sir Joseph Bazalgette (hailed by many as the builder of modern London) to its current incarnation in 1887. The new bridge, which to date, still rests on the same brick piers of Tierney Clarke's structure now had a wrought iron structure, clad in ornamental cast iron casings that were redecorated in its trademark green and gold.

However, it's not all been smooth sailing for the bridge (river, boat race, sailing...haha! OK, no more!). Over time it has had several structural enhancements as it grew older and as traffic increased. It now has a 7.5 ton limit on traffic and has a barricaded entrance for buses which ensures that at no point does the load on the bridge become dangerous.

And then there were the bombings. The IRA (Irish Republican Army) and its offspring seem to have a particular grouse against this bridge. (At this point I am resisting a very strong urge to crack yet another pertaining to the colour green and the Irish...).

In 1939, the IRA planted a bomb in a suitcase, which was discovered and calmly chucked over the rails into the river by passerby Maurice Childs, a hairdresser from nearby Chiswick. The resulting explosion sent up a 60 feet high column of water and Mr Childs recieved an MBE. A second bomb however, did explode, causing damages but repairs were soon made. The next attempt came in 1996, again, by the Provisional IRA, which was foiled. In June 2000, however, a bomb planted by the Real IRA exploded causing extensive damage that led to the bridge being closed for two years.

It was in this phase of repairs that lighting was installed along the bridge, and it looks pretty dramatic at night, all lit up. I'm afraid I don't have a shot of it at night, but I'll endeavour to update this post with one soon. (Time to have a late eveing pint at one of the riverside pubs next to the bridge).

What I do have for you instead, is a shot of rowers practicing for the boat race, who passed underneath just as I was in the middle of the bridge. Talk about serendipity. The 2009 race starts on March 29th.

Legend has it that at the opening of construction in 1825, the then Duke of Sussex, Augustus Frederick performed an elaborate ritual: He fixed a brass plate engraved with glowing praises for all those involved over one of the coffer dams that had been filled with nothing less than gold coins and a silver trowel. As it was fixed, he poured corn over it, grandly enunciating:

"I have poured the corn, the oil and the wine, emblems of wealth, plenty and comfort, so may the bridge tend to communicate prosperity and wealth"

Ahem. And I thought Indians tended to be overly ritualistic and grandiloquent.

Colourful history and resilience of the bridge aside, I still cannot make up my mind about it. I don't hate it, but I certainly do not love it either - I'm not sure the swirly green and gold trimmings are to my taste. What do you think?