I had a meeting in a pub called the Astronomer recently, in the City
of London. Not a bad little pub (well, not that little) and the décor
related to astronomy. It had been renamed from the Shooting Star, and
it got me thinking about the Royal Observatory in Greenwich. The
Astronomer is in Middlesex Street, just off Bishopsgate in the City, if
you are interested.
Greenwich is one of those places that still has quite a village feel
about it, even though its days of being a village are well and truly
over.
The observatory from the park – courtesy of Photobucket
One of the most fascinating things about Greenwich, in my opinion, is the Royal Observatory.
The Observatory
King Charles II was actually quite a forward thinking king; he took a
hands on interest in stopping the Great Fire of London, and it was he
who commissioned the observatory. He had an interest in navigation, and
knew that there were some significant issues with navigating at the
time. Being an island nation, he also realised that he had to do
something to help the seafarers of the nation. (In those days, the
stars were used for navigation, and they were not as accurately
described in the literature of the day as would have been desired.)
courtesy of Photobucket
Charles appointed John Flamsteed as the Astronomer Royal, whose job
was to accurately catalogue the position of the stars. He managed over
3000, which is no mean feat.
Sir Christopher Wren designed the original building, Flamsteed
House. As it was built on the foundations of another building, it ended
up being 13 degrees off of true north, which did not impress Flamsteed
one bit.
Originally, Flamsteed House contained Flamsteed’s scientific
instruments, later to include some clocks to enable him to mark the
official time of day.
The Meridian
The Greenwich Meridian, which is the basis of longitude, was adopted
as the world’s Prime Meridian at the International Meridian Conference
in October 1884. The meridian line was marked by a brass strip that ran
through the observatory’s courtyard when it became a museum in 1960.
It was later changed to stainless steel. Since December 1999, it has
been marked by a green laser that is clearly visible at night.
courtesy of Photobucket
Greenwich Mean Time
Until 1954, Greenwich Mean Time was based on observations made at the
Greenwich Observatory, however, more modern methods are used nowadays.
It’s pretty amazing to think, though, that the Time Ball that was
installed at the top of the Observatory in 1833 still drops to mark 1pm
all year round.
TV Trivia
Earlier this year, BBC1 televised an adaptation of Joseph Conrad’s novel The Secret Agent. Part
of the plot related to a bombing in the park near the Observatory,
which was based on a real event. In 1894, a Frenchman accidentally
detonated a bomb in the park (the bomb went off accidentally in Conrad’s
book) and the perpetrator died shortly after. We can only guess at
whether the Observatory was the planned target in the real life event.
courtesy of Photobucket
In 1947, it was decided to move The Observatory out of London in
1947, to Herstmonceux in Sussex, as a result of light pollution in
London. The final move did not take place until ten years later, when
all the building work was completed. The Observatory became a museum
soon after.
It’s now part of the Royal Maritime Greenwich museum group, for further information see here:
David Charnick did one of his trial walks on Sunday, about the Roman
Settlement in London, or Londinium, as they called it. David is very
clear to explain that his trial tours will be longer than the final
version because he wants to perfect his plan. Never be under any
illusion that putting together a tour like this is an easy job. There
is research and planning to be done, to get the tour the right length
whilst including all the important information.
Background
Roman London was what is now the City of London. All the spreading
came later. Our group met at Tower Hill underground station. David
explained that there was nothing here before the Romans; that particular
area may have been left as a buffer zone between the various tribes to
the north and south to allow people to travel unhindered.
Part of London Wall
David told us that the Romans invaded in the year 43 (what I would
call 43AD). 40,000 men under the rule of Emperor Claudius reached the
Essex shores and made their way inland. The tribal people of England
would never have seen anything like it, and probably surrendered pretty
quickly, but a few weeks later, Claudius himself pitched up with his war
elephants. Who knows what the natives thought then?
Part of London Wall
Eventually, the heads of 11 tribes surrendered, and the main Roman
settlement was established at Colchester, which became the first Roman
colony in Britain, and the capital city. In a fairly short space of
time, the Romans had erected a number of buildings and a Temple to the
Divine Claudius. (Roman Emperors believed that they were Gods.)
Colchester remained the capital until year 100 when London took over
but I’m jumping ahead.
Back to the City
Our first stop was a view of the original London Wall, the oldest
part of which is Roman. It wasn’t built when the Romans first settled
in London, it came later, in about the year 200. It seems it was not a
defensive wall, at least not originally. David said it was probably
built as a protection against thieves and the like – London had only
started out as a minor settlement, but where there are soldiers there is
money, and London grew as a trading centre. People – and the army –
wanted to protect what was theirs. In 275, a wall was added along the
waterfront, and there were then only two points of entry – Bellins Gate
(later Billingsgate) and Dour Gate. I’m sure that had a benefit to the
taxman as well as the security issues – that was no doubt the start of
the merchants being charged to offload their goods.
In 260 there was a bit of an uprising – a chap from the Netherlands
called Posthumous (funny how they all took Roman names, even when they
weren’t on board with it all. I’d have changed mine, but I digress)
rallied the troops, so to speak, from Gaul and a few other places,
including Britain, and set up their own empire. It didn’t last long;
the land was reconquered 13 years later and no doubt the Romans dealt
out suitable punishments to those involved.
Now, here’s an interesting thing when we say, “What did the Romans do
for us?” By 286, there was a British Fleet. Remember, before that,
we were just a lot of different tribes, battling with each other from
time to time.
At that time, the Romans didn’t have their own fleet. Not sure why.
Rome itself may be landlocked, but Italy isn’t, and I’m pretty sure the
Romans had conquered just a bit more of Italy than just the area around
Rome. Anyway, the point was, there were pirates around the British
coastal waters, and probably in the Thames too. Hence the fleet,
commanded by Carausius, who, although he was promoted through the Roman
army ranks, was a native of Gaul. Maybe he never really bought into the
whole Roman thing either because he revolted and set up his own Gallic
Empire. Rome wasn’t having any of that; he was defeated in 296 and it
came back under Roman control.
No tale of Roman London would be complete without mention of Boudicca
and her revolt. I’ve put a brief bit of information about Boudicca in a
previous post:
What I hadn’t realised, or perhaps chosen to ignore, until David told
us, was quite how brutal and calculated her revenge had been. (Yes, I
do understand that she was treated appallingly, but she didn’t just
punish the Romans, she punished any Britons in her way too.). She made
her way to Colchester, still the capital, and massacred everyone she
could find, and burned the town to the ground. Then she made her way up
to London, stopping off at Chelmsford and a few other pit stops on the
way for a quick pint and a bit more massacring. That was probably her
downfall; had she made her way straight to London, or even left the
additional burning and butchering at Chelmsford, she might have hit
London and been home by bedtime. But you know what they say about hell
and a woman scorned.
The Roman Commander in Briton was over in Anglesey sorting out the
Druids, but word got to him that Boudicca was causing trouble so he and
the troops made their way back to London. David told us that the Roman
foot soldiers could cover 20 miles in a day (I’ve done that myself in
one day, but not every day. They must have been fit). And, of course,
the cavalry could have covered more ground than that.
The bottom line of all this was that, after Boudicca was defeated, an
even bigger, brick built fort was erected, which started somewhere
around the foot of the Walkie Talkie building and went north from there.
The good news for us Londoners is that after this, in the year 100,
London took over as the capital city, and it will stay that way. As
long as Nicola Sturgeon doesn’t have her way. Virtually all the roads
led to London – because of its importance as a trading hub – and the
Romans were not stupid. They realised that if anyone else decided to
attack, it would be quicker and easier to get reinforcements to
somewhere that had good travel links. (That works the other way too,
the attackers could get there more quickly, but I suppose they worked on
the basis that you can’t have everything.). Londinium it was.
David took us along to Gracechurch Street and walked us up past
Leadenhall Market – this was the area where the Forum and the basilica
stood. Then we went along to Walbrook Street, where the Temple of
Mithras stood. He gave us a lot of information about that too. Onto
the Guildhall (if you go into the art gallery, you see part of the
original amphitheatre) and then along Wood Street, which would have been
straight through the old wooden fort.
From there we went to Noble Street where you can still see the
remains of some of the brick fort and where part of the Roman city wall
would have been.
I’m very conscious that I’ve talked a lot about the history, albeit
only as an overview, and very little about the actual tour. Three
reasons for that: Firstly, I don’t have enough space here to go into
detail. Secondly, I don’t know exactly what David is going to include
in the final tour. Thirdly, I can’t do the tour justice. You need to
see the places to get a feel, and to have David explain all the changes
that have been made since the Romans were here. I don’t just mean the
buildings that have come and gone over the years. There is far, far
more to it than that. David has archaeological maps that show how it
would have been back then and really brings the old settlement to life
when he talks about it. If you have any interest in London’s history, I
wholeheartedly recommend one of David’s tours. I have been on a number
of them now, and always found them very enjoyable and fun. Maybe I’ll
see you on the next one?
For more information about David’s tours check out
I had occasion to visit the Gherkin the other day. Ooh la, thought
I, what a fabulous place to visit. Actually, I didn’t get to go into
the main building. The security guard (in a sharp suit) made it clear
that the likes of me weren’t welcome in there. (No, I didn’t look rough,
but I wasn’t in Armani either.) Hey ho, I’ve been thrown out of other
places. Many other places, actually. I’ve lead a full life.
There is a sad story about the Gherkin (properly known as 30 St Mary
Axe). It was built on the site of what was the Baltic Exchange. The
Baltic Exchange was destroyed by an IRA bomb back in 1992. How times
have changed, for the better in this case.
Two for the price one – the Cheese Grater and The Gherkin
If you look at the website for the Gherkin, I honestly don’t think it
does the building justice. It’s all very glossy and up market but it
doesn’t tell the story. I love the story.
After the bombing, the City of London Corporation and English
Heritage wanted the old façade of the Baltic Exchange to be restored.
Sadly, because the damage was so extensive, that wasn’t possible.
The original plans for the site were to build a gargantuan 92 storey
building. The City of London Corporation, God bless them, had (has) a
bit of an issue with that, for a number of reasons. Not the least being
that there were fears it would interfere with the flight paths into
City and Heathrow Airports. There are some beautiful buildings in the
City and we don’t need them to be overshadowed. (Hell, yes, I am a
traditionalist, a conservative. I like change when it is for the good.)
Sir Norman Foster designed what we now see. In true Foster style,
the building uses energy-savings processes, so it uses half the power
that another building similar would use. It has internal shafts that
act as a natural ventilation system, and because air is trapped between,
it is, in effect like a string vest. The shafts also allow light into
the building, which reduces the lighting costs.
The building is what is known as a triangulated perimeter
structure. This means that the building is stiff, to avoid wind sways
(let me tell you, going up in the lift in the Canary Wharf Tower on a
windy day is a very interesting experience).
What surprised me most is that although the building appears curved,
the only curved glass is on the top of the building, the rest are just
flat panes.
The building has won a number of awards for architecture (hmm, I
guess I’m missing something, I don’t hate it, but it’s not my favourite
building. I may be in a minority thought, it went up for sale in 2006
for £600 million, and was purchased in 2014 for £700 million.
At the last count, it was occupied by a number of insurance companies
and some other companies I’ve never heard of before. And, of course,
there is the venue I visited, The Sterling. That was a rather nice
place to visit, if a bit noisy for my taste. It’s apparently very
trendy. The food was pretty good too – they do an excellent calamari,
and pretty good cocktail sausages. They do fair range of cocktails and
have a good selection of wines. I think it’s fair to say I’ll be back
there again before long.
The New Scotland Yard that many of us know and love as the
headquarters of the Metropolitan Police in Victoria Street has been sold
and is being emptied prior to the new owners taking it over to do
whatever they will do. Which is probably pull the building down and
build a hotel or offices. It’s a prime site.
Photograph of the Broadway side taken in 2013
It’s just an office block, built in the 1960’s, so it clearly wasn’t
the original headquarters, but it was home to me for a long time. Home,
because it always felt like coming home when `I went there. It’s quite
a sad occasion for me. I spent more than half of paid working life
there; I met my best friend Kate there; and I met many other friends and
some other people with whom I formed close working relationships.
Hell, I had some fun there, it wasn’t just a place of work, it was my
life for a long time and I loved most of my working life in the Met.
A quick bit of background – I’ve written about the history of the Met
before – please see the link below – so am not going to say too much
about that here. However, up until 1829, policing – law enforcement –
in London and the rest of the country was carried out by means of unpaid
parish constables. It is true to say that the
novelist-turned-magistrate, Henry Fielding, introduced the Bow Street
Runners in 1753, but they were a detective force and there were only
eight of them. They were joined by the Bow Street Horse Patrol in
1805. It is also true to say that the Marine Force was established in
1798, to prevent the thefts from the docks and ships that sailed up the
Thames – there was huge amount of money involved in the goods that came
into London this way. None of that was policing as we know it today.
Sir Robert Peel was appointed Home Secretary in 1822, and, as a
result of the work he did with a parliamentary committee on law and
order, the Metropolitan Police Act of 1829 was passed.
The original headquarters at 4 Whitehall Place, backed onto a street
named Great Scotland Yard (which is still there today, home to some of
the mounted branch and the Civil Service Club) was just a private
house. Over the following few years, the headquarters expanded so that
by 1887 it included numbers 3 and 5 Whitehall Place, 21 and 22, and 8
and 9 Great Scotland Yard. (Nothing surprising about it being spread
out and maybe a bit ramshackle. The old Peel House at 105 Regency
Street was the most bizarre set up of several buildings I have ever
seen.)
By 1890, the Met had outgrown these buildings and they moved to a new
building on the Embankment, designed by Norman Shaw and thus known for a
while as Norman Shaw House. It was originally supposed to have been an
opera house, but for some reason that project was abandoned.
In 1967, having increased in size further, the headquarters moved to
10 Broadway, although most of buildings on the Embankment remained as
Territorial Policing Headquarters for some years. The name New Scotland
Yard moved with it.
This photograph was taken a few years ago, before they did the work on the generator outside NSY
There were some design problems over the years, I remember the marble
cladding literally slipping off the building; the original architects
being called into sort it all out. Not quite sure what they did, but
they fixed it. The air conditioning was never great and, on some
floors, the plumbing was pretty abysmal. Many’s the time the plumber
had to be called out. I remember an infestation of fleas – or something
else, I’m not quite sure what. Never mid these things, it was home.
And I was fortunate enough to have worked high enough up in the building
to have had a wonderful view across London.
Back in the 1970s, the serious crime squads (drug squad, murder
squad, arts and antiques squads) and the famous Flying Squad were all
based here, as was Special Branch and the Bomb Squad, which became the
Anti-Terrorist Squad and later merged with SB to become the Counter
Terrorism Command. There was a bar on the ground floor known as The
Tank, although that made way for a gym some years ago. We had some good
times down there in The Tank, thanks to Lil and Eddie, wherever they
are now. I could name names, thank all the people I’ve known, but I’m
not sure that’s quite the right thing to do here. You all know who you
are.
Me, with a few of my team, July 2015
And now, the most senior people will be moving back to the
Embankment. No fuss, no fanfare, no farewell. I started my employment
with the Metropolitan Police at NSY and I’m glad I finished it there.
Will I feel sad when I pass the site going forwards? Yes, I will, it’s a
bit like losing a part of me. Will I remember it all with very fond
memories? I don’t think I need to answer that, do I?
I suppose it was inevitable that I would write about it sooner or
later. With the anniversary of the first attributed murder coming up on
31 August, and my own personal fascination, I guess this is as good a
time as any. I’m talking, of course, about Jack the Ripper.
Jack the Ripper was a serial killer who killed at least five women in the East End of London in the late 19th
century. I say “at least five,” because there were potentially more,
although no-one is sure. He strangled his victims before cutting their
throats and mutilating their bodies. When I say “mutilating their
bodies,” I mean disembowelment or removal of the uterus. Or similar.
We hear that kind of thing a lot nowadays when serial killers are
mentioned, but in Victorian times, when The Ripper was perhaps the first
known serial killer, it would probably have been quite shocking.
The five women who are generally believed to have been murdered by the Ripper are:
Mary Ann (Polly) Nichols – died Friday, 31 August 1888
Annie Chapman – died Saturday, 8 September 1888
Elizabeth Stride – died Sunday, 30 September 1888
Catherine Eddowes – died Sunday, 30 September 1888
Mary Kelly – died Friday, 9 November 1888
The five victims
There are others who may have been Ripper victims:
Emma Smith – died 3 April 1888
Martha Tabram – died 8 August 1888
Rose Mylett – died 19 December 1888
Alice Mckenzie – died 9 July 1989
There may have been others, but policing methods were not so advanced
in those days, so it is difficult to be sure. Some experts believe
that Martha Tabram was definitely a victim and that Liz Stride was not.
We may never know for sure.
The victims were all prostitutes, which was a common occupation in
the East End that time. It was a poor part of London (in fact, five of
the poorest London boroughs are still in East London). Unless they were
rich, people didn’t own their own homes. Many couldn’t even afford to
rent a room on their own, they’d share rooms and live in pretty dreadful
conditions. So many women would become prostitutes just to help make
ends meet. There was nothing glamorous about what these women did.
They were not in the same league as Skittles (http://susanshirley.co.uk/skittles-one/),
if they were successful, there would be several different men in one
night, and sex would almost certainly have taken place outside in a dark
alley.
Why is there doubt about Martha Tabram and Liz Stride? Martha was
stabbed 39 times, with two different blades, so the MO was a little
different from the Ripper’s usual one. Liz Stride’s throat was cut but
the rest of her body was intact. It may be that the Ripper was
disturbed, didn’t get whatever pleasure he took from killing, hence
going on to murder Catherine Eddowes later, we will just never know.
The area in which the murders took place (by the way, most of the
actual streets in which they took place are no longer there because of
all the building works that have taken place over the years) were narrow
streets or alleys and they were generally unlit at night.
In 1888, the police did not have the forensic technology that we have
today. Doctors were only just beginning to learn how to establish the
time of death, and how cold or heat would affect decomposition. They
didn’t know about contact transference (they would attend a crime scene
in their normal clothes, maybe even smoking) or scene contamination, and
there was certainly no cordoning off of the scene. There was no CCTV
and fingerprints were only just beginning to be known about and used.
The new methods were treated with suspicion, as is often the case – if
you’ve ever watched Murdoch Mysteries on the satellite
channels, you will know that Detective Murdoch is thought to be a little
bit odd by his inspector because he is trying to introduce more modern
methods of crime detection. And the doctors who came to examine the
bodies had a wide range of ability and experience too, they weren’t
specialised the way they are now.
Sign outside a pub in the area
One of the interesting things about these crimes is the letters that
were sent purporting to be from Jack the Ripper. It wasn’t until 24
September, which was the closing date for the inquest into the death of
Annie Chapman when an anonymous letter was sent to the Commissioner of
Police, Sir Charles Warren. The police didn’t take it very seriously.
Another letter was sent to the Central News Agency on 27 September.
They, too, didn’t take it very seriously, so it was two days before they
passed it onto the police. This was the [now infamous] Dear Boss
letter…
“Dear Boss, I keep on hearing the police have caught me but they won’t fix me just yet….”
This letter was signed “Yours truly, Jack the Ripper,” hence the
nickname. It started a swathe of letters from other people – it’s
common knowledge that this happens in serial killings even today, as
well as the bogus ‘killers” who come forward. The problem for the
police is that they can’t assume that they are not genuine.
Over 100 men have been cited as suspects, including the Prince of
Wales of the time, the author Lewis Caroll and Dr Barnardo. Quite a
selection. That the police didn’t catch the killer is common
knowledge. Some experts think that even if he had committed the crimes
today, they still wouldn’t have caught him. There is speculation as to
whether he had medical knowledge or worked in a slaughter house –
certainly, the mutilations were done in such a way that would suggest he
had some knowledge rather than just tugging organs out.
A number of the suspects were Jewish men, and there was a concern in
government about anti-Semitic feeling in the area at the time, so as far
as possible, anything associating the Ripper with being Jewish was
played down.
Notwithstanding that, there were a few “prime suspects.” Sir Robert
Anderson, Police Assistant Commissioner Crime at the time, said in his
memoirs that the police had known who the Ripper was (Aaron Kosminski),
even that there was a witness to one of the crimes. The witness refused
to come forward and give evidence as both he and the perpetrator were
Jews, and he could to be party to sentencing another Jew to death.
Other officers did not, however, agree with Anderson.
Other serious suspects included Montague John Druitt, a barrister
from Dorset. He committed suicide soon after Mary Kelly’s murder, but
most police officers did not truly consider him a viable suspect.
Seweryn Klosowski (aka George Chapman) was the favoured suspect of
Inspector Frederick Abberline (who had been brought in to head the
investigation). However, he successfully murdered three wives by
poisoning (and was hanged for his crimes). Although not unheard of, it
seems unlikely that a killer would change his MO so drastically,
particularly as the kind of thrill he would have got from the violent
Ripper crimes would have been very different from that of poisoning.
Francis Tumblety was an American quack doctor. He’d been implicated
in other crimes, including the assassination of Abraham Lincoln,
although there was no evidence to charge him, as well as the death of
one of his patients. He allegedly had a collection of wombs that he had
somehow collected. In any event, he fled the country before he was
arrested.
John Pizer (sometimes spelt Piser), a Polish Jew, with an alleged
history of minor assaults on prostitutes, was arrested after the second
murder but it transpired that he had alibis for both of them and was
released.
Recently, some writers have said that they have proof of who the
killer was, but when you look at the evidence, it can’t be proven
categorically that it is actual proof. (For example, one writer said
that he had an item of blood stained clothing that could be traced back
and DNA testing proved the identity of the killer, but for me, the
evidence chain is not secure enough.)
Many of the original documents from the police file have been lost or destroyed – there is nothing sinister in the per se. It
happens. It just means that the evidence trail has gone cold. The
truth is that we will probably never know for sure the true identity of
Jack the Ripper. And maybe we shouldn’t worry about that. Maybe we
should just concern ourselves with our modern day monsters.
I am a big fan of the shopping experience (sorry guys, it probably is
a girl thing) and one of my favourite places is Westfield. Living East,
I usually go to Westfield Stratford, near to what was the Olympic Park,
although I do have the occasional trip over to the original Westfield
at White City. I suspect it is no accident that they are both located
with easy travelling for people from most parts of London.
Westfield Stratford is, at the time of writing, the largest shopping
mall in Europe, boasting 250 shops and 70 places to eat. (I’ve only
managed five so far.) There is a Vue Cinema with 17 screens, an Aspers
Casino and a bowling alley. It’s pretty much the first thing you see
when you come out of the station.
It was built in time for the London 2012 Olympics, although the
Olympics was not the reason it was built, it had been planned long
before. John Lewis, which takes pride of place at the far end of the
complex (with Waitrose on the ground floor), had realised for some time
that they needed a presence further east, so it dovetailed very nicely
for them.
Westfield was part of one on the biggest urban regeneration projects
ever undertaken in the UK. Stratford had grown in the nineteenth century
when the area became industrialised and from the 1920s it became the
home to a repair and maintenance depot for the railways. Living
conditions for the locals were overcrowded, poverty was rife, and this
continued until the 1960s, when the first regeneration projects started.
Regeneration started with a shopping centre and the London Freight
Terminal, but the area was still poor. In the 1990s, a new bus terminal
and station were built, along with a theatre, a library and a cinema.
In July 2005, London won the bid to host the 2012 Olympics. The bid
was based on the reconstruction of a brown field site along the Lea
Valley and the fact that Stratford had excellent travel links. Building
Westfield next to the Olympic Park was either a happy accident or an
excellent piece of planning, I’m not sure which, whichever it was, the
location is excellent.
There is a massive Marks and Spencer, an Apple Store (yay!), Primark,
Mac, Dr Martens, Boots to name but a few. And when you’ve finished
shopping and are ready to drop, there are a couple of champagne bars.
What’s not to like?
Somerset House, home of the register of births, deaths and marriages
in the UK until 1970, is a rather beautiful building overlooking the
Thames at the east end of the Strand. It first opened to the public
around 1997.
HISTORY
As far back as the 12th century, Thames side properties were fashionable with those aspiring to have influence with the monarch, and by the 16th century owners of properties along the north bank of the Thames included the King.
Edward Seymour, 1st Earl of Hertford, was the
brother-in-law of King Henry VIII (by virtue of the king’s marriage to
Jane Seymour, his third wife. As she produced a male heir, and then
died, there was no acrimony between the King and Edward). Edward was an
ambitious man, and when Henry died, the new King, Edward VI was still
only a child. Seymour declared himself Lord Protector and got himself
made Duke of Somerset into the bargain. As the king’s uncle, who was
going to argue?
Winter at Somerset House
The Duke owned the land where Somerset House now stands, so he
decided that he would build himself a house, however, in order to do
this, he had to demolish a number of buildings, including churches and
chapels. This was not a popular move, and earned him a short spell in
the Tower.
Nonetheless, Somerset got his way, and work started on his palace.
Work started in 1547 and was almost complete by 1551, at a cost of
£10,000. That may seem very little for something like this nowadays,
but taking inflation into account, at today’s prices, it would have cost
millions.
Unfortunately for Somerset, he got himself arrested again, this time
for treason, was flung back in the Tower. He was executed in January
1552. Unsurprisingly, all his possessions passed to the crown, and when
Somerset House was completed in 1553, it became the home of the then
Princess Elizabeth, until she succeeded the throne in 1558. Somerset
House became a meeting place and residence for visiting diplomats.
Following Elizabeth’s death in 1603, James
VI of Scotland became James I of England. James was married to Anne of
Denmark and Norway, but she didn’t like life at the Scottish Court, so
when he took the English throne, he gave her Somerset House. Anne made
it her own: she renamed it Denmark House and threw lavish parties and
generally made it the centre of social and artistic life. She also set
about some major building works, to improve her home, which continued
until she died in 1619.
Charles I became king in 1625, and his wife, whom he married the
same year, took over at Denmark House. Typical woman, she wanted more
refurbishments done. (I’m not knocking her; we have to put our own
stamp on these things.) It was Henrietta Maria who got Inigo Jones
involved in the project, and he built the Queen’s New Chapel, which was
said to be “grander than he could ever have hoped for.” The queen lived
here until the Civil War.
During the Civil War, Somerset/Denmark House became headquarters for
the parliamentary army under General Fairfax. As you would probably
expect from the Puritans, most of the treasures at Somerset House were
sold off…
At the end of the Civil War, when Charles II became king, the dowager
Queen Henrietta Maria was able to return to Denmark House, and she went
back to having building work done, although I daresay it needed it
after having been home to the army and the place where Oliver Cromwell
lay in state after his death.
South side, taken from the Terrace
Somerset House was undamaged by the Great Fire of London, it stopped
shortly before it travelled that far west, but that didn’t stop Sir
Christopher Wren undertaking another major redecoration in 1685 when
Catherine of Braganza, Charles II widow, moved in. She stayed here
until she left England in 1693, the last queen to live here.
By the eighteenth century, Somerset House started to fall into
disrepair. In 1775, Somerset House was demolished with the new building
being erected at the same time, designed by Sir William Chambers. He
wasn’t the first choice but the original architect died rather
unexpectedly. Not that I think there was anything sinister about that,
he didn’t seem to be able to come up with a satisfactory design anyway.
There were a number of government officials and societies to be
housed in the new building, and then as now, they were all very precious
about their own bits of government, so Chambers designed it as a series
of townhouses arranged around a quadrant, thus each had its own
entrance.
The difficulties in building such an edifice so close to the Thames
is not to be underestimated (remember, Victoria Embankment had not been
built yet, and the Thames was wider than it is now). Piles had to be
driven into the river bed to provide a firm foundation for the south
side of the building and there were numerous other issues to relating to
the poor soil quality and the slope of the land, but he eventually
succeeded in the building appearing to rise out of the river. Chambers
didn’t live to see the final construction of Somerset House, he resigned
in 1795 due to ill health and died a year later. When Somerset House
was complete, there were still parts of Chambers’ designs unbuilt.
Needless to say, some people liked the design, some didn’t. A new
wing was designed in 1849 by John Pennethorne. By the second half of
the eighteenth century, London’s drainage system was struggling, and it
was decided that Victoria, Chelsea and Albert Embankments should be
built and with them a new drainage system. Victoria Embankment was
completed in 1870.
What this meant was that the waterfront design Chambers had gone to
such great pains to create no longer had the same effect with a road in
front of it. The two Watergates were now just entrances for carriages,
and later, motor vehicles.
It’s true, the Embankment side of the building, under the terrace, is
not very impressive, but for me, the rest of the building makes up for
that. An ice rink is erected in the quadrant in the winter and in the
summer there are fountains that the children seem to love running in and
out of. (When do we lose our love of being soaked from head to foot, I
wonder?)
I am fortunate enough to attend a number of workshops at Somerset
House, but even without a major reason, you can take a look around the
outside of the buildings, and there are cafes on the terrace. It’s
definitely worth a visit.
I happened to meet someone at Waterloo Station this week, because it
was a mutually convenient location. It struck me how much of interest
and history there is at Waterloo.
Measured by passenger number, Waterloo is the busiest station in the
UK, and, along with Victoria Station, it has the greatest number of
platforms of any station in the UK (there are 19 at Waterloo and
Victoria, 17 at Clapham Junction and 18 at Liverpool Street). Even
Crewe, which I thought was pretty big, only has twelve platforms in use.
The station was opened on 11 July 1848, originally intended to be
Waterloo Bridge Station, but, as so often happens, the name was
shortened and the Bridge was soon dropped from the title. Although not
intended by the railway company (London and South West Railway) in
charge (they wanted to extend the main railway line into the City),
Waterloo became busier and passenger numbers increased, and additional
platforms were added over a period of years.
In 1897, the charmingly named Necropolis Company Station was built
close by (that featured in a period drama but for the life of me I can’t
remember the name of it. I do remember that there was a nasty accident
and at least one murder). The Necropolis line carried dead bodies and
mourners from London to Brookwood Cemetery in Surrey because London’s
cemeteries were overcrowded.
By 1898, LSWR acknowledged that they were not going to be able to
build an overground railway into the City, so they built the Waterloo
and City line instead. (This line used to be known as the Drain, to
distinguish it from London’s underground – the Tube.) Work started on
rebuilding the mainline station in 1904, although it opened in stages,
and the First World War slowed things down.
There is another station called Waterloo East, connected now by an
overhead walkway – trains from here go to Kent and Sussex. And, of
course, there is the underground station.
On lighter note, a number of films have been shot in part at Waterloo Station – The Bourne Ultimatum, Incendiary, Outlaw, Breaking and Entering, to name but a few. It’s also featured in a number of TV programmes.
For more facts about Waterloo Station, see the attached link:
I went back to Kingston-upon-Thames the other day. I haven’t been
there for many years, don’t know why, it’s lovely. It still has an old
part, with the oldest building dating back to the fifteenth century,
although for the most part it’s a mixture of Edwardian, Victorian and
1930’s mock Tudor style architectures. The market place, which still
opens regularly, dates back to 1603 when James I first granted Kingston a
Saturday trading licence.
There has been a town here since Saxon times, when the kings were
crowned here. In fact, Kingston belonged to the kings in those days and
was the earliest Royal Borough.
One of the reasons for Kingston’s geographic and economic importance
is that it was the site of the first river crossing upstream of London
Bridge, a distance of over ten miles, as far back as at least the
thirteenth century. It remained the only crossing for at least two
centuries.
As I walked on my way to meeting the “Ladies Who Lunch” (a rather
select group of people, most of whom have a former employer in common) I
passed a street called Nipper Alley. Interesting name, I
thought, and expected a whole world of trouble to find out the origin of
the name. Not so. It is named after the dog who appeared on the old
HMV record label logo. Little Nipper lived in Kingston and was buried
here, apparently under the site of what is now Lloyds Bank.
I remember the department store Bentalls from my childhood visits –
it’s now in the large Bentall Centre, which also houses other high
street stores. There is a large John Lewis further along too. I love
John Lewis.
Two Royal Parks, Richmond Park and Bushy Park are not far from
Kinston, nor is Hampton Court Palace, once home to Cardinal Wolsey,
until he made it far grander than anything the King, Henry VIII had.
Never a good move. The king was jealous and when the Cardinal annoyed
the king, he was stripped of his titles and his home.
Amongst Kingston’s other claims to fame are that Eric Clapton not
only went to Kingston University, he used to busk in the streets in the
area, before he found fame. Kingston not only gets a mention; it also
appears in some of the episodes of Monty Python. And for Primeval fans
(yes, I am one of that number, I occasionally do a bit of Sci-Fi),
almost an entire episode was filmed in John Lewis and the Bentall
Centre. These monsters now a good thing when they see it. A later
episode was filmed in the market place.
As if that’s not enough, there are lots of places to eat and drink
and a local theatre. Wonder whether I can afford to move there?
The river Thames, the longest river is England, is 215 miles long.
We (and by “we,” I mean Londoners) think of it as our river,
conveniently forgetting that it doesn’t just run through London. It’s a
big divide for us; crossing the river is huge, for some people it never
happens. It’s almost as though the city is two different countries.
There are literally dozens of ways to cross the river, some are not
open to the public, some are tube lines, some are walkways. Here are
just a few of them:
Tower Bridge
Opened in 1894, it’s possibly my favourite bridge, because it’s so
beautiful. It is a combined bascule and suspension bridge (which just
means that it has a bit that opens and a bit that is suspended). A
major road bridge, traffic from the south east side of London comes to a
standstill when the bridge opens – for example, when tall ships come up
the river. There are two towers held together by two horizontal
walkways. It is 800 feet long and 213 feet high. There is a museum that
is open to the public and well worth a visit. It runs from Tower Hill
in the north to Tower Bridge Road, SE1.
If you check the website at http://www.towerbridge.org.uk, you can find the opening times of the bridge, I fully recommend it.
Tower Bridge
London Bridge
London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down,
London Bridge is falling down my fair lady
There have been a number of bridges called London Bridge, probably
the first one being from Roman times, although the others were built
about 30 feet downstream from the position of the current one. Previous
bridges had houses built on them, but the current one is quite plain.
It was rebuilt (again) between 1967 to 1972 (the previous one was sold
to an American, Robert McCulloch, who had it rebuilt in Arizona – as
each piece was numbered, it’s been reassembled exactly as before).
London Bridge Railway Station is on the south side of the river, on the
north Monument is the closest underground station, but Bank is fairly
close by.
Southwark Bridge
In 1811, a bill was passed in parliament to allow for a new bridge to
be built about a quarter of a mile west of London Bridge. Attractively
painted in yellow and green, designed by John Rennie, it comprises
three arches, made from cast iron and cement. It is 700 feet long. On
the north side, the bridge runs to Upper Thames Street, with Canon
Street the nearest station, with Shakespeare’s Globe on the south side.
Chelsea Bridge
This bridge runs from Chelsea on the north to Battersea on the south
side. Another bridge where there have been several built on the same
site, this one is a self-anchored suspension bridge, the first of its
kind to be built in Britain. It was declared a Grade II listed
structure in 2008. The football fans among you will know that Chelsea
FCs home colour is blue… In the 1970s, it was painted in red and white,
the colours of its north London rivals, Arsenal, which didn’t go down
too well with the local fans. In 2007, it was repainted in red, white
and blue. At night, it is floodlit from below.
Chelsea Bridge
Albert Bridge
Also running from Chelsea to Battersea, at night, at least, I think
this is the most attractive of the bridges. It was originally built in
1873, but was found to be unstable, so it was modified between 1884 and
1887, and then again in 1973, when two concrete piers were added. This
makes it a bit of a mosh-mash of architectural styles, but it works.
It’s another Grade II listed structure. It was nicknamed The Trembling
Lady because it has a tendency to shake when there is a large amount of
foot traffic, and has signs at both ends warning troops to break their
step when crossing. After having been painted in different colours at
different times, it is now painted in pink, blue and green, which
apparently increases its visibility in poor weather conditions. It
looks stunning at night, when illuminated with its 4000 halogen lights.
Albert Bridge
Battersea Bridge
Yes, you’ve guessed, it runs from Chelsea to Battersea (no wonder
East Londoners get fed up with the lack of crossings over their way).
The first Battersea Bridge was opened to vehicles in 1772, but was
dangerous for those on it and under – boats frequently collided with
it. As a consequence, two of the pillars were removed and the bridge
above strengthened with iron girders. Another Grade II listed
structure, Battersea Bridge’s claim to fame, or at least one of them, is
that it the narrowest road bridge over the Thames. It is also believed
to be the least frequently used. It’s other claim to fame is that in
January 2006, a female bottlenose whale became stranded at Battersea
Bridge. Sadly, she died while being transported back to deep water.
Waterloo Bridge
The bridge runs from the junction of the Strand and the Aldwych in
the north to the South Bank. The only bridge to have been damaged by
German bombers during the Second World War, it was rebuilt by women
(before the bomb damage) earning it the nickname of the Ladies Bridge.
It is London’s only self-cleaning bridge.
Waterloo Bridge
Putney Bridge
This is the furthest west of any of the bridges mentioned here,
running from Putney on the south and Fulham on the north. It has
medieval churches at either end – St Mary’s Putney and All Saints
Fulham. The first bridge was built in 1720, it has been the starting
point for The Boat Race since 1845. The current bridge was opened to
the public in May 1886 and is also a Grade II listed building.
Live Like a Londoner 