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.

Little Green Street Blues (06.08.13)

Heritage and history, you can’t get away from it nowadays: Restoration Home, Downton Abbey, Antique Roadshow; touch your remote and up pops another programme reminding us of our past and the need to preserve it.

On a blog that’s devoted to the world’s most historically diverse city I’m reluctantly finding myself after 4 years returning again to a little gem of a street in North London – Little Green Street. This is one of only a handful of modest Georgian streets left preserved much as they were 250 years ago.

As modern London’s population rises exponentially what building land – wherever its location – remaining has risen in value, and that has driven (driven being the relevant word for Little Green Street), developers to use land unsuitable in a more sane city.

The building plot in question is a restricted backwater called College Lane which used to be home to a British Rail Staff clubhouse, long since closed, now just ripe for development.

They plan to build “20 mews houses arranged in terraces of 2 and 3 storeys and a block of 10 flats comprising studio, 2, 3 and 4 bedroom flats” with “provision of underground car parking”. Now that seems like a pretty big building project to me involving thousands of lorry loads as the excavation progresses and yet more deliveries of building materials.
This would be a complex operation in any circumstances, but for the developers the only access to the site is up Little Green Street as quaint narrow cobbled street barely 2.5 metres wide. In fact the logistical task seems so insurmountable I’m surprised that Kevin McCloud isn’t making a Grand Designs programme for Channel 4 about the insanity of the build.

Most of us have come to associate Georgian architecture with the great or exceptional houses that are shown in television adaptations or by visits to a National Trust house, but for the majority of people they lived in humbler dwellings. Second rate houses were built by merchants were no more than 500-900 sq ft in size. These houses, small by modern standards, would have been termed large by the Georgians. The most important rooms would have been given the largest windows. On Little Green Street, eight of the homes are bow-fronted and were originally shops, selling goods such as ribbons, coffee and mousetraps.

Having survived the Victorians zeal for redevelopment and the Blitz, in 1966 The Kinks used the street as a backdrop for their 1966 song appropriately named given the circumstances Dead End Street which became one of the first true music videos.

If a great crested newt or natterjack toad had been found nearby the site would have been given SSSI status and the developers prevented from commencing work. But Little Green Street only has as its defenders people wishing to preserve a small cul-de-sac which inevitably has led to accusations of nimbyism.

This week the developers plan to dig up this historic street and its setts (cobbles) will be lifted a fortnight later to stop the construction vehicles sinking into a road, that used to see little more than horse-drawn brewery drays, as hundreds of trucks drive along here over the next four years.
As Nick Goodall from the Little Green Street blog wrote last weekend:

“Take a last walk along the cutest Georgian Terrace in London while you can. After the weekend of the 3rd and 4th August, you will need permission of a ‘banksman’ to enter the road.”

Little Green Street looks like a perfect slice of Regency London, John Betjeman has written about it in his poetry and Frommer’s Guide has nominated it as one of the ‘11 Places to See Before They Disappear’, I fear their advice – now a little late – might proved to be prophetic.

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 trip to the Tower (26.07.13)

Most of the time writing CabbieBlog is pretty mundane: observation, researching and writing with few perks. But once in a while the blog opens doors as it did for me last week. I was invited to a demonstration of BT’s new Home Hub 4, itself a pretty pedestrian corporate IT talk.

The unique setting at 621ft above Fitzrovia made this presentation much more memorable – at the top of the BT Tower. Completed in 1966 and opened by Prime Minister Harold Wilson in 2003 the tower was given grade II listing by the government showing just how iconic it has become to Londoners. It was Britain’s most poorly kept secret. Londoners were expected to not notice its presence, in fact for many years it did not appear on any map as its location was protected by the Official Secrets Act, even the taking and storing photographs of the building was forbidden.

Now thankfully those restrictions have been lifted, but not others. After going through some rigorous security checks you enter the lobby. Evidence that BT was a major sponsor to last year’s game is evidenced by having two torches mounted on plinths.

Our group was ushered into the high speed lift, unusually for nowadays complete with a lift attendant. An indicator duly recorded that its speed was 1,400 ft. per minute. With no proper emergency stairs a special act of parliament had to be passed making it the only building in the UK that can be legally evacuated by lift.

We arrived at the viewing platform which is just below the famous revolving restaurant, taking 22 minutes to complete its circuit. It was closed in 1980 now closed due to security fears, but many diners at the time said that eating while being spun round was disconcerting.

Being the highest building in Fitzrovia it has unrestricted views across London, although while taking these panoramic shots it was rather disconcerting to notice that the windows had handles – could they be opened?

We were told it was unusual to see as far as the new Wembley Stadium in the distance. Note the handles on the windows.

The purpose of the visit was to see a demonstration of BT’s new router but on this floor the Wi-Fi signal was curiously was absent my i-phone.

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.

North, South, East, West – Where Do The City’s Extremities Lie? (23.07.13)

Have you ever thought about London’s farthest reaches? Where it extends to in the north, how far east it goes, where its centre is? If so, I have the answers to those questions – combining some map study and consulting various online and offline resources I can give you the definitive run-down on London’s exact dimensions.

London’s northern-most point is in Enfield, on a rather unassuming stretch of the M25 between junctions 24 and 25. It lies just to the west of a feature on the map rather romantically called Tilekiln Osiers.

London’s eastern extent runs as far out as North Ockenden in the London Borough of Havering – specifically, the boundary is about halfway along a charming narrow road lined with trees called Fen Lane.

To the west, London’s boundary is again marked by the M25 – to add some spice however, the boundary actually runs around Junction 14. This spot lies just to the west of Heathrow Airport in Hillingdon.

London’s southern boundary can be found in the London Borough of Croydon, and if you want to visit the exact spot it is on Ditches Lane, just to the north of the village of Chaldon in Surrey. The nearest geographical feature happens to be Happy Valley Park – one can only assume that this is so named because you only have to walk a hundred yards further on and you’ll be blissfully happy that you’re no longer in Croydon!

In terms of miles, between its eastern and western extremities London is 35.8 miles across as the crow flies, and 27.9 miles in length from north to south. This brings us to the vexing question of where London’s centre is – in the strictest geographical sense it should be where lines drawn between the four locations I’ve set out intersect which would, surprisingly, make the centre of London the Shell Centre buildings on the Thames riverside just outside Waterloo station.

I don’t have to tackle this problem however, because there’s a long-standing convention when it comes to the geographical point that marks the centre of London. When you’re driving along the motorway and a sign says ‘London – 10 Miles’, what it actually means is that there are 10 miles between your vehicle and the statue of Charles I, who sits on horseback just off Trafalgar Square – this was the original site of the ‘Eleanor Cross’, or ‘Charing Cross’, which were a series of monuments that commemorated Eleanor of Castille, the wife of King Edward I. Today the Charing Cross is marked by a Victorian confection in the forecourt of Charing Cross railway station, although as we’ve established it isn’t in the right place . . .

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.

Collcutt’s hidden folly (16.07.13)

City of London planners have decreed that the view of St. Paul’s – or what is left of it – must be preserved from the rapid encroachment of high-rise buildings. One sacrosanct sightline is looking down Fleet Street from the Old Cheshire Cheese towards the Cathedral.

When it was proposed to demolish the previous building at the junction of St. Mary’s Axe and Leadenhall Street its construction caused a few headaches. Due to the building’s unusual design in having its 14 floors suspended on steel ‘chords’ visible on the building’s exterior, it was demolished from the bottom up.

The architects calculated that its replacement would destroy the sightline of St. Paul’s world-famous dome. The design called for the new building to be four times higher and the designer rose to the challenge by producing the new famous ‘cheesegrater’ design ensuring that its distinctive shape would become unobtrusive from Fleet Street and would gain popularity for its famous shape.

The same planning regulations have not been applied over the years in the museum area of South Kensington where London’s tallest folly manages to keep a low profile.

Having completed ‘The Knowledge’ I thought that I knew all of London’s largest buildings – that was until I read David Long’s Spectacular Vernacular.

At nearly 300ft. Collcutt’s Tower is higher than the dome of St. Paul’s but the subsequent development surrounding the building has ensured the building’s total anonymity.

Designed by T. E. Collcutt, it was he I discovered who designed the Savoy and the Palace Theatre. When completed Collcutt’s Tower marked Queen Victoria’s 50 years on the throne.

The Renaissance-style tower originally had two siblings each with copper roofs, the towers rising up above the Imperial Institute founded after the grand-sounding Colonial Exhibition of 1886. On the anniversary of Victoria’s Golden Jubilee, the tower was christened The Queen’s Tower.

The Imperial Institute was completed in 1893 and although regarded as Collcutt’s masterpiece a proper function was never found for its use. Its cavernous great hall was used for examination and was notorious among students in the 1950s for its leading ‘temporary’ plywood ceiling and the loose-bowelled sparrows which inhabited it.

In the 1960s the Imperial Institute was demolished mid protests led by the poet laureate John Betjeman. Only the single tower was spared, but as the building originally had propped it up the tower’s foundations had to be considerably strengthened thus allowing it to stand proud on its own.

The only sign that this monument to colonialism exists is when 11 times a year on Royal anniversaries its bells are rung much to the surprise of local residents (who much wonder where the sound is coming from) and the sparrows.

This post has been shamefully pilfered by the Londoneer who rather magnanimously publish under a creative commons licence – Thanks, Pete.

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.

Crosby Hall (12.07.13)

My son gave me for my birthday a book Panoramas of Lost London by Philip Davies an extra large format copy containing over 200 black and white photographs of London before redevelopment. It is heartbreaking to see how much of London remained untouched for centuries until the Victorians razed great swathes of the city in their quest for modernity.

Hitler tried to finish the job, but it was during the 1960s that we destroyed far more than aerial bombardment had done and finished off the job of removing all traces of the medieval city.

One surprising survivor remains unknown to thousands of motorists as they drive past it each day little realising its importance, the fascinating story of a building’s survival and the present owner’s obsession for all things Tudor.

Crosby Hall has been described by English Heritage as ‘London’s most important surviving secular domestic medieval building’.

Forget Russian oligarchs and over-paid footballers, the property on Cheyne Walk almost opposite Battersea Bridge is probably the largest house in private ownership in London, a house whose nucleus started in the City of London.

Built-in Bishopsgate between 1466 and 1475 for rich City merchant Sir John Crosby, it was later purchased by Sir Thomas More and now is located at the site of More’s Chelsea Garden.

King Richard III and Sir Walter Ralegh both used it as their temporary home and it later was the head office of The Honourable East India Company. But eventually, it was reduced to warehouses before being scheduled for demolition (and no doubt inclusion in my book) in 1908.

Realising its importance as the most precious medieval survivor in the Square Mile the entire building was moved brick by brick to Chelsea and after much soul searching into what should become of its use, it was leased to the British Federation of University Women who promptly built an Arts and Crafts residential block at right angles to the building’s Great Hall.

In 1988 the freehold was bought by Christopher Moran an enthusiastic – and rich – lover of all things Tudor who had already spent 20 years thinking about the Hall. Seven years were then consumed obtaining the relevant planning permissions and if you think your kitchen extension was a nightmare have a thought for Christopher Moran who has since 1995 employed up to 100 specialist builders with the help of dozens of Tudor scholars on his project creating an 85 room house, built exactly as Tudor craftsmen would have done over 500 years ago.

For the £50 million it is estimated to cost he gets a courtyard garden designed by the Marchioness of Salisbury based on her own garden at Hatfield House surrounding a Tudor fountain to the goddess Diana, which itself took more than three years to create. Facing the River are solid oak doors weighing 3 tonnes, The College of Arms has devised for him a coat of arms to surmount the doors. The lost art of double-struck pointing has been mastered in order to ensure that the new brickwork looks exactly as it would have done when Sir John Crosby moved in and a house – well fit for a king.

Simon Thurley, Director of English Heritage has written a more detailed account of Crosby Hall which originally was published in Country Life Magazine.