Previously Posted: A gated community

For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

A gated community (09.03.2010)

“What has the Romans done for us?” asked Michael Palin in the film The Life of Brian.

Well, for us Londoners the Romans have given us Londinium one of the earliest of their settlements on the banks of the Thames and no doubt gave us a Latin version of Estuary English [Estuario Latino]. The Romans also gave us a rather fine wall with four gates and a fort to protect Londinium which nestled within, and which was surprisingly small at about 330 acres.

They built their city on the north bank of the Thames and judged they wouldn’t need a defence along the river’s edge, as who would want to come from Sarf London, so the wall was more of a two mile curve than an enclosure.

It was probably Queen Boudica who made up their minds to build a defensive wall after she razed Londinium to the ground in AD60, after they assaulted her daughters and stole their land, anyway after much discussion, much like councils of today, they had the wall completed by about AD140.

Starting from where the Tower of London now stands it ran north from the river and as they feared Essex Man more than any other at least 20 bastions were added at a distance of about 60 yards apart along this section.

The first gate is Aldgate (“Old Gate”), as its name implies was one of the earliest to be built, leading as it did to the Roman road to East Anglia, via Colchester and beyond to the feared Essex Man.

The wall heads off in a north-westerly direction and the deep ditch which protected its outer flank had a rather novel use along this stretch and became known as Hounds ditch from the number of dead dogs left there to rot. Now only the street of Houndsditch marks this rather quaint custom.

At the end of the ditch of dead dogs was Bishop Gate, built by the Bishop of London. This saintly prelate used to exact a toll of one piece of wood from all the carts loaded with timber coming into the City by way of his gate, God knows what he did with all that lumber.

The wall was about 6-9ft wide and about 18ft high, with probably a catwalk along the top. It is obvious from the different bondings used in the various sections which remain that a number of building gangs were used in the erection of the wall. As London had no quarries of its own, the materials used had to be brought in from outside “squared-off” Kentish ragstone formed the inner and outer faces of the wall while concrete and rubble filled in the centre. Every few feet in height one, two or three rows of Roman tiles were used as a bond before proceeding with the next 3 or 4 feet.

A small section of the wall between these two gates can be found at the end of London Wall showing the upper part of the Roman wall, with the medieval walling on top capped by Tudor brickwork.

We now encounter a dog leg at Cripplegate which led into the fort which stood on the site before the wall was built and which necessitated the need to build around it. Although it was called a gate, it only went into the fort about this time.

We now head off in a western direction, but somewhere there was an underground passage. For the name cripplegate is derived from crepel, an Anglo-Saxon word for den or underground passage. Once the City gates were closed for the night, after the curfew bells had been rung, it was impossible to get into the City through any of the gateways. So after a night out on the tiles you could stagger into the City after proving your identity through this tunnel, just don’t bump your head if you have had a few.

We have now reached the most famous of all gates; Newgate which has become synonymous with the prison that started in the rooms over the entrance at a later date. This was the entry from the important Roman road that ran to Silchester and Bath. Incidentally the last public hanging took place here in May 1868, after that Londoner’s had to entertain themselves.

The wall now leads south towards the river and half way along its length is Ludgate. In old English ludgeat means “postern” or “back doorway”, so presumably this was the City’s back door.

The Roman did not, as a rule, bury their dead within the precincts of a city, but almost invariably by the side of a road. So beyond this last section of wall on the City’s western flank was a cemetery about where Fleet Street heads away from the Square Mile.

Great British Fudge Company

Occasionally on CabbieBlog, we post about London cab conversions, among those featured have been a pirate ship, an ice cream vendor and a coffee barista. Today we feature one of the most innovative – the Great British Fudge Company who have used their converted cab for several different uses, from street food to festivals. scene. It is a great little set-up for something a bit different which also includes a Queen’s – or should that be now? – King’s guard. They also tour the country in a shiny red converted London double-decker bus.

Snail’s pace

London has been awarded the dubious title of the ‘world’s slowest city’, and came runner up in the ‘most expensive city to drive in’ competition. According to TomTom, it took an average of 36 minutes to drive 10km in the centre of London last year, putting us way ahead of second place city, Bengaluru in India, where it takes just over 29 minutes. We’re also only second to Hong Kong when it comes to the ‘price of petrol, diesel and charging an electric vehicle’.

Johnson’s London Dictionary: Bus stop

BUS STOP  (n.) Stagecoach halt used to summon a coach-and-four, traveller should caution against use of request halt as rider doth ignore passengers.

Dr. Johnson’s London Dictionary for publick consumption in the twenty-first century avail yourself on Twitter @JohnsonsLondon

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You can ignore most expressions of art: nobody forces you into an art gallery; you can walk out of a play or cinema; and stop reading a book. But one art form is in your face, wherever you look – architecture.

The geek in me thoroughly enjoyed John Grindrod’s Concretopia a book about – well, concrete. This story was about buildings, both the big and famous like the Barbican and the small and every day like housing estates. The basic message of the book was that there was a great deal more that was positive and good about what was done after the war than was bad.

Grindrod has now been touring Britain applying his critical eye to post-1980 projects, again with his practised skill. When you read the late Queen Mother’s apparel described as: ‘snipping a ribbon… dressed in the manner of a Beatrix Potter hedgehog’, you can be assured that this isn’t a dry book about architecture.

The facts he reveals are alarming, during the boom in the 1980s for owner-occupier housing, less than five per cent of new builds were designed by an architect. Or amusing. The Terry Farrell-designed Embankment Place, owned by the Sultan of Brunei, who introduced stoning to death for adulterers and gays, had in its basement Heaven Club.

American Carla Picardi recalls in the 80s that cabbies wouldn’t take her to Canary Wharf where she was attempting to develop the area we know today. ‘For London cabbies, it was literally off the map: the docks did not form part of The Knowledge.’

Here I should record an interest, John recently subjected himself to CabbieBlog’s London Grill, and as a result, Faber & Faber sent me a copy. This is a large tome (apparently Grindrod discarded 50,000 words), the book would have been enhanced with more illustrations featuring the building being analysed, but that would have made it impractical for printing.

Grindrod’s highly readable style, more akin to a page-turning novel, makes this polemical work on something that touches us all, a pleasure to read.