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.

Cracking Ideas (05.04.13)

Reading recently that the Temperate House at Kew Gardens was to close for maintenance my eyes started to glaze over, that was, until I read that the Grade I listed building is the largest Victorian greenhouse in the world and that they were planning to dismantle the structure pane by pane at a cost of £34.3 million and that the restoration project will not be completed until May 2018. Since opening in 1863 walking through this Victorian gem has been enjoyed by countless people over the years. The purposes of other glass projects have been more opaque.

New Crystal Palace: The pod is designed to provide a unique space for visitors to see modern sculptures whilst enjoying distant views of the city. This design by architect WilkinsonEyre at 150m long looks more like Martian invaders have arrived. The curvilinear glazed structure appears to float above the trees and is powered by photovoltaic cells illuminating the spaceship at night. Access to the interior would have been via the world’s longest travelator. More images of the proposal can be seen here.

Old Crystal Palace: After the Great Exhibition of 1851, it was decided to move the Crystal Palace from Hyde Park and proposals were invited to redesign the building. By far the most imaginative idea came from the architect Charles Burton who proposed stacking the iron frame upwards to fifty storeys. This made Burton the first man ever to suggest building a skyscraper, some 30 years before the Americans claimed the accolade. The reconstructed salvage would have been placed where the Albert Memorial, opposite the Royal Albert Hall, currently sits, and was projected to be a thin obelisk 1128ft tall wobbling up into the Victorian sky.

Crystal Span: The 1960s was a decade of change for teenagers not dressing like their parents, men with long hair, and even the word teenager was relatively new. So into this brave new world stepped a group rejoicing in the name ‘The Glass Age Development Committee’. They proposed building a bridge – The Crystal Span – it was to be 970ft long and 127ft wide. Provision for motor vehicles on its lower deck, while above were to be seven levels comprising shops, an extension to the Tate Gallery, a hotel, skating rink all topped off with a roof garden and an open-air theatre; a modern vision of the medieval London Bridge. That all sounds great except for one small design fault, costing an estimated £109 million at today’s prices it was to be built of – err . . . glass. This piece of blue sky thinking was not their only brainwave. Taking their inspiration from the Crystal Palace with its glazed panels (before it burnt down) the committee had wanted to clean up the shambles that was, and still is, Soho. Thankfully this earlier proposal was also abandoned.
Mind you one of their schemes had some merit, they wanted to demolish Staines and build an entire glass city call Motopia.

Ultimate double glazing: Despite being completed in the late 1890s when the Prince of Wales literally opened Tower Bridge this much loved homage to Victorian twee gothic it wasn’t long before certain mid-century efforts to ‘improve it. W.F.C. Holden thought that the bridge would be greatly improved if it were encased in glass and steel. Unsurprisingly, not many people agreed.

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.

Southbank House (02.04.13)

This Building of the Month is Southbank House an industrial building divided up into units.

When England was at its industrial zenith the shores of the Thames now has the busy Albert Embankment running along its edge. One of the potteries’ most famous products appears regularly on the BBC’s Antique Road Show where delighted owners of Doulton salt glazed stoneware pieces designed by George Tinworth or Hannah Barlow are told to their delight the high value of their possessions.

To meet the demand for hygiene by Victorians John Doulton started making pipes and sanitary ware, but by 1860 had diversified into art pottery and by 1878 had built his charming factory in dazzling terracotta.

Tucked behind the London Fire Brigade’s headquarters standing on the corner of Lambeth High Street and Black Prince Road this Victorian gem, renamed Southbank House, is easily overlooked.

At its peak, 370 artists and 2,000 people worked within its walls, employed making these decorative pieces.

The surviving part of the Doulton pottery factory is a single corner block, most ornate at the corner, where the original entrance once was located. To my mind, this is one of the most excellent examples of terracotta work in London.

A round steeple protrudes from the corner of an Italianate tower. Complex designs in red, pink, and orangeish shades of terracotta encrust this corner, with scrolling, dark blue tiles with flower and semi-abstract patterns, and blue half-spheres.

Above the closed-off corner entrance is a sculptured plaque by the aforementioned George Tinworth of potters and traders at work, signed GT.

The side of the building down Black Prince Road is less ornate but high up are gargoyle-type dragons and some sculptured details – pillars and ideal heads in niches.

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.

Just Desserts (29.03.13)

Maids of Honour: A personal favourite of mine. Just opposite Kew Gardens is a rather quaint tea room selling these puff-pastry cakes containing a rich melange of almonds, cinnamon, butter and brandy named after a famous terrace in Richmond. This was built for the ladies-in-waiting to a former Princess of Wales, Caroline of Anspach, who lived at nearby Richmond Palace.

Sandwiches: Those resourceful Romans are said to have stuck meat between two slices of bread to make a convenient way of eating on the move, presumably when conquering their European neighbours. But the name sandwich is attributed to John Montagu, 4th Earl of Sandwich. His family insist that he invented its creation to allow him to work on Admiralty papers, but those less charitable suggest that it was more likely he was rather busy at White’s gaming tables. The current Earl of Sandwich has resurrected his ancestor’s invention and given his name to a chain of upmarket sandwich shops.

Champagne: Don’t mention this to our Gallic cousins but in 1662 Christopher Merrett having moved from Oxford to London demonstrated at The Royal Society how to make champagne, a full 30 years before Dom Perignon started his famed tipple.

Peach Melba: The Savoy’s famous chef Auguste Escoffier was credited as creating this dessert for opera diva Dame Nellie Melba. The combination of peaches, raspberries, redcurrant jelly and vanilla ice cream were combined to protect her precious vocal cords prior to her appearances at Covent Garden.

Chelsea Bun: On the corner of Pimlico Road and Lower Sloane Street before the antique dealers arrived selling Georgian furniture, there stood a famous bun house royally patronised by Georges II, III and IV. Note the genuine light fluffy article containing raisins is always square.

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 Tall Tail (22.03.13)

Since the horsemeat scandal, CabbieBlog seems to have taken on a foodie theme. This week I found a little mouse sitting on top of the bird seed which is stored in plastic containers in my shed. How he came to be there I have no idea. The sight of my furry friend reminded me of what is claimed to be London’s smallest statute.

Two mice are fighting over a piece of cheese high up on a building on the southeastern corner of Philpot Lane by the junction with 23 Eastcheap. They apparently date from 1862 when the building was constructed for the spice merchants Messrs Hunt & Crombie by John Young & Son.

No documents seem to exist as to who sculpted this homage to fromage, however, they could be a memorial to a tragic fight between two builders over a cheese sandwich – except the sandwich hadn’t been invented at that time.

The builders in question were working on the Monument, designed by Sir Christopher Wren and built between 1671-77 to commemorate the Great Fire of London. It stands on the junction of Fish Street Hill and Monument Street about 400ft away from Philpot Lane.

At some point during the Monument’s construction, the two builders sat down to enjoy their packed lunch of bread and cheese. Having a head for heights – well you would doing that job – the men were content to sit at their workplace, perched on a high scaffold. This was before steel scaffolding, hard hats and the ubiquitous hi-vis jackets, no health and safety in those days.

One of the men noticed that his cheese had been nibbled away. His suspicion as to the identity of the cheese nibbler, for reasons best known to him, fell on his mate sitting beside him perched high up on the Monument.

A fight broke out not wise when you’re poised so high up. Trading punches, the unfortunate pair lost their footing and plunged to the ground to their deaths.

It was only later, after similar disappearances of bread and cheese, that the real culprits were discovered – an infestation of tiny mice.

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.

Dark Satanic Mills (19.03.13)

Food producers adulterating our food is a recurring problem. When the Albion Flour Mills opened the traditional millers – who feared the factory would drive their wind and water mills out of business – had for a long time been spreading rumours that flour from the factory was adulterated with all manner of unpleasant substances.

Since bread was the main diet of the poor millers were often portrayed as the greedy cheating baddie. At times of high wheat prices bakers and millers would be the target of rioters, often accused along with farmers and landowners of hoarding to jack up prices. Bread riots could involve the whole community, though they were often led by women, rioters would often seize bread and force bakers to it at a price they thought fair.

The Albion Mill was the first significant factory built in London. It was situated east side of Blackfriars Road on the approach to Blackfriars Bridge close to the Thames. Inside this modern wonder of its day, vast steam engines powered mill wheels which ground the flour on a huge scale.

Before the fire grinding 10 bushels of wheat per hour, by 20 pairs of 150 horsepower millstones, the Mills were the industrial wonder of the time, quickly becoming a fashionable sight of the London scene, they were regarded as the most powerful machines in the world. The trendy middle and upper classes had liked to drive to Blackfriars in their coaches and gawp at the new industrial age being born.

But in 1791 the factory dramatically burned to the ground in very suspicious circumstances.

The Mills stood in Blackfriars, an area together with neighbouring Southwark long notorious for its rebellious poor and for artisan and early working-class political organisation. At one time the Thames Bank at Lambeth was littered with windmills – eventually, they were all put out of business by steam power. When the Albion opened London millers feared ruin.

It was hardly surprising that when the mill was an inferno, they made their joy immediately apparent. A huge crowd gathered and made no effort to save the Mills, but stood around watching in grim satisfaction. Later in the day locals and mill workers danced around the smoking ruins, ballads of rejoicing were printed and sung on the spot and millers waved placards which read ‘Success to the mills of ALBION but no Albion Mills.’

After a soldier and a constable got into a row, a fight broke out leading to a mini-riot; but firemen turned their hoses on the crowd thus the first recorded use of early water cannon. To further make their point, the millers labelled the factory Satanic.

William Blake lived a short distance from the factory and it is thought the event inspired the line ‘Dark Satanic mills’ in his poem And Did Those Feet in Ancient Time, later made famous as the hymn Jerusalem.