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.

Homeless not hopeless (10.08.2010)

While driving through Hackney recently I came across this group of social deprivation warriors, and like or loath them if properties weren’t left empty by landlords or disgracefully unoccupied by local councils, squatters (who often have not broken any laws) would not exist.

On closer inspection I was surprised to find this once elegant early Victorian detached house had a plaque attached to its gatepost “The Elizabeth Fry Refuge 1849-1913”. The irony of squatters living in Elizabeth Fry’s Refuge has obviously escaped Hackney Council’s attention.

Born in Norwich on 21st May 1780 Elizabeth was the daughter of John Gurney a partner in the famous Gurney Bank, her mother was a member of the Barclay banking family and a devout Quaker, helping the poor of the district every day. As a young woman her friend was Amelia Alderson whose father was a member of the Corresponding Society Group advocating universal suffrage and annual parliaments.

In July 1799 she was introduced to a fellow Quaker, Joseph Fry a successful merchant’s son. They married the following year move to Plashet (now East Ham in London) and she bore him eight children.

In 1813 a friend of the Fry family, Stephen Grellet, visited Newgate Prison. Grellet was deeply shocked by what he saw but was informed that the conditions in the women’s section were even worse. When Grellet asked to see this part of the prison, he was advised against entering the women’s yard as they were so unruly they would probably do him some physical harm. Grellet insisted and was appalled by the suffering that he saw.

When Grellet told Elizabeth about the way women were treated in Newgate, she decided that she must visit the prison. There she discovered 300 women and their children, huddled together in two wards and two cells, the female prisoners slept on the floor without nightclothes or bedding. Although some of the women had been found guilty of crimes, others were still waiting to be tried.

Elizabeth began to visit the women of Newgate Prison, supplying those clothes and establishing a school, and later with other Quakers formed the Association for the Improvement of the Female Prisoners at Newgate. Her brother-in-law published an inquiry into prison discipline and upon being elected as an Member of Parliament, he addressed Parliament and pointed out that there were 107,000 people in British prisons, greater than all the other prisoners in Europe put together – it is also a greater number than in today’s prisons.

Elizabeth gave evidence to a House of Commons Committee, describing how Newgate held 30 prisoners to a room each prisoner had a space of 6 feet by 2 feet, with hardened offenders sharing rooms with first time offences. At a time when over 200 offences were capital offences she declared “capital punishment was evil and produce evil results”.

When Sir Robert Peel became Home Secretary he introduced a series of reforms directed at introducing more humane treatment of prisoners as a result of pressure from Elizabeth.

Elizabeth also became concerned about the quality of nursing staff. In 1840 she started a training school for nurses in Guy’s Hospital and Florence Nightingale wrote to Fry to explain how she had been influenced by her views on the training of nurses. Later, when Nightingale went to the Crimean War, she took a group of Fry nurses with her to look after the sick and wounded soldiers.

It is claimed that Queen Victoria, who was forty years younger than Elizabeth Fry, might have modelled herself on this woman who successfully combined the roles of mother and public figure.

Although prison reform was her main concern she also campaigned for the homeless in London. So when you have a £5 note in your hand turn it over, there you will find Elizabeth Fry, Quaker, prison reformer, campaigner for universal suffrage and champion of the poor and homeless, it’s just a pity that Hackney Council don’t try their best to follow her lead.

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.

I don’t Adam and Eve it (06.08.2010)

The Oxford English Dictionary claims that the first use of the word cockney as a reference to native Londoners was in 1521, and since I did The Knowledge I’ve been telling anyone who cares to listen that I’m a cockney, blithely ignoring the fact that I was brought up in a leafy North London suburb.

For to be a cockney you have to have been born within the sound of Bow Bells, and contrary to the widely held belief the bells in question are not from Bow Church in East London, but St Mary-le-Bow on Cheapside in the City of London. Being born in Fitzrovia, I thought, erroneously, I easily came within its audible catchment area.

A church has existed on the site since Saxon times, and the subsequent Norman church was known as St Marie de Arcubus or Le Bow because of the bow arches of stone in its Norman crypt. The current building was built to the designs of Christopher Wren, 1671–1673, with the 223-foot steeple completed 1680. It was considered the second most important church in the City of London after St Paul’s Cathedral, and was one of the first churches to be rebuilt by Wren for this reason.

On 10 May 1941 a German bomb destroyed the Wren church including its bells made famous in the children’s nursery rhyme Oranges and Lemons.

Restoration was begun in 1956 and the bells only rang again in 1961 to produce a new generation of cockneys, a full 14 years after my birth.

Now according to research at Lancaster University a cockney accent will soon no longer be the hallmark of Londoners. The distinctive accent now known as Estuary Speak is more likely to be found in the Home Counties of Essex and Hertfordshire. The linguists claim that ever-increasing numbers of people in the capital are speaking Jafaican. The hybrid speech, created by successive waves of immigration is a mixture of cockney, combined with Bangladeshi, African and West Indian.

The London dialect could have disappeared within another generation and cockneys in their 40s will be the last generation to speak like stars from BBC soap. Now the dwindling ranks of cockney speakers are being asked to record their voices for posterity.

But hope is at hand, the newly built Kings Place Arts Centre near King’s Cross has posted a downloadable recording of Bow Bells on its website so that cockneys that have moved away can still let their children be born within the sound of its famous chimes..

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.

Pedal Power (30.07.2010)

Today’s the day were gearing up to Boris’ big one, his pet project, that is. Well, it would be his idea if he hadn’t stolen it from Ken Livingstone, who adopted it from Paris mayor Bertrand Delande. Yes today marks the start of bringing pedal power to London (at a cost of £140 million).

Boris believes the London Cycle Hire Scheme will encourage reluctant pedallers on to two wheels. Already under fire for having the bikes built 3,200 miles away and shipped here from Canada, what will happen to Boris’ credibility if they end up trashed or slung in the Thames?

The bikes are built like tanks, so say the manufacturers claiming the bikes will last more than seven years. Forty-two modifications have been made to the original design to make it more suitable for London’s weather. But one change Boris insisted on was to spray them Tory blue, the question needs to be asked, if Ken Livingstone get back into City Hall, will he have them sprayed red?

They may be indestructible to all but the criminally insane, but will Londoner’s who infrequently ride them have the survival streak necessary on today’s roads. And built with only three gears you’ll need the thighs of Chris Hoy to make it up Highgate Hill.

London seeks to emulate Montreal’s success where demand jumped from 3,000 to 5,000 in just one year. But Montreal is a much smaller city which hasn’t gone down the London route, beloved by yobbos, if you can break it, if you can’t paint it.

So a word to Boris; why have you not got the Oyster Card to work at the docking stations? Most users will be reluctant to use their credit card and get yourself a fishing rod, you might need it for fishing the bikes out of the Thames.

Eating humble pie (24.09.2010)

It is now two months since it started, and although it sticks in the craw to say it: I think Bicycle Clips Boris may have picked a winner with his cycle hire scheme.

After some initial technology problems, the bikes are popular and, are usually ridden carefully, probably their weight precluding any Lycra loutish behaviour.

I’m quite happy to see more cyclists take to London’s roads, but I have grave reservation about the two new Super Highways (with a further 10 planned by 2015). These are just strips of blue paint on the tarmac, but they give the impression that cyclists have a divine right to their exclusive use.

TfL’s website informs us that “they will provide cyclists with SAFER and FASTER journeys”. Just the jolly job you might say, encouraging more use of bikes, getting fitter and save the planet. Further inquiry will lead you to realise that Blue Routes are intended to highlight the presence of cyclists and are advisory rather than enforceable, a bit like red traffic lights or priority to pedestrians on zebra crossings for some cyclists.

The first two routes are pilots to enable TfL to assess (and here I would suggest TfL consider a different verb) the impact on traffic and cyclists, and if successful Boris plans to increase the use of bikes by 400 per cent.

They say the worst kind of security is a false sense of security and this is where Super Highway madness concerns me. These lanes will be used by riders with little experience of riding in London and they could think they are protected in some way, but in fact any vehicle can drive down a blue lane at any time. It is a sad statistic that this year’s casualties have been mostly women cycling sensibly along London’s roads. It’s the Lycra clad lads on racing bikes with saddles like razor blades who are far more adept at keeping alive.

If Boris is serious about increasing London’s road bike capacity he should insist that councils are forced to provide dedicated lanes for their use, identification on bikes increasing the ability to prosecute law breakers and cyclists take out 3rd party insurance, then we can all jog along happily, as for joggers that’s for another post.

Be careful out there.

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.

Wood you believe it? (27.07.2010)

There are not many times in a person’s life when they know precisely what they were doing on a particular day and time; the time you took your wedding vows, birth of one’s children or the moment news reached you of 9/11 are probably the only events most people can accurately pinpoint in their lives.

Well, I know for a certainty what I was doing at 10.00 am on Saturday 1st January 2000, for while the rest of London were sleeping off the previous night, I was planting a Aesculus hippocastanum seed, or a conker to you and me.

In a rare surge of optimism I went out on a cool overcast day and planted my conker to mark the start of a new millennium. Now thanks to the good offices of my local Tory councillor, my three metre high Millennium Tree has been planted in our local park, and God (and yobbos) willing, will grow and give generations of children pleasure.

I only give this fascinating snapshot of my life because recently I’ve been reading The Great Trees of London by Jenny Landreth, for according to the author there are only 56 trees exceptional for their height, girth, reach, age or rarity, and in what most of us think of as central London there are only nine, so few that I can list them all:

The Brunswick Plane, London planes are estimated to make up around 50 per cent of the capital’s trees, with tough shiny leaves readily washed clean in the rain and bark that is able to renew itself by peeling off in small plates has made it an ideal tree for London’s polluted atmosphere. This beauty, according to the author, has been left free to grow to its full glory, ignoring any health and safety issues regarding low hanging branches.

The Dorchester Plane, a large semi-mature London Plane, planted around the time of the opening of the Dorchester Hotel. Standing in Park Lane it is probably London’s most famous tree as its beautiful form and shape is dramatic when lit up at night.

The Abbey Plane, on 8th July 2005 Dean of Westminster Abbey, Dr Wesley Carr laid a wreath on the memorial to Innocent Victims at the Abbey to remember those who had been killed or injured in the bombings the day before. The wreath contained London Plane leaves from the tree that stands close to Westminster Abbey symbolizing London.

The Embankment Plane, standing at the junction with Horse Guards Avenue, this area has some fine examples of London’s ubiquitous trees and this is the finest example lining this major thoroughfare.

The Cheapside Plane a 25m tall London Plane has stood on the corner of Cheapside and the appropriately named Wood Street for 250 years. Originally within the churchyard of St Peter Cheap, destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666, it stands behind some of the oldest shops in the City. The tree was thought to have survived a direct hit during World War II bombing.

The great London plane in Berkeley Square with a known planting date of 1789; in 2008 it was valued at £750,000 making it Britain’s most expensive tree. Despite the popularity given by the song, A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square, this drab square, is redeemed by over 30 enormous plane trees planted at the same time and are among the finest specimens in the whole of London.

An elm on Marylebone High Street [pictured] which survived bombing in World War II (which destroyed the adjacent church and has since been spared the threat of Dutch elm disease, making it the last Elm tree standing in Westminster.

An ash in the graveyard of St Pancras Old Church, reputed to be the oldest church in Britain; King’s Cross was being regenerated in the 1860s, at this time the exhumation of human remains and the removal of tombs was supervised by the architect Blomfield, although he delegated much of this unpleasant task to his young protégé Thomas Hardy. The tree known as “The Hardy Ash” has since grown around the gravestones.

Indian Bean Tree in the yard of St James’s Piccadilly. As a welcome diversion when stuck in the inevitable traffic jam that Piccadilly’s one-way system has become, this tree with its beautiful summer flowers is a relatively uncommon tree species, being brought from America by Mark Catesby in 1726. This tree, one of the oldest of its kind in the country, creates a tranquil setting in St James’s churchyard, particularly when in flower during the summer months.

Great trees have always made London beautiful; they lined the roads, they were planted on the banks of the Thames, they were grown in the gardens of great houses and in the newly created garden squares, so where are they all now; St John’s Wood is no more, are we losing our botanic heritage? Mature trees are supposed to be protected by preservation orders and even the most necessary and responsible pruning requires the display of notices of intent and consent from local planners, but these often useless safeguards are easily ignored.
Trees are beautiful, mysterious, and remind us of our insignificance among the natural wonders of the world; all planning officers should insist that developers plant trees that will grow big, tall and wide in future developments, the 2012 Olympic site should have as its legacy a vast number of mature trees to soften the coldness of it architecture, we for our part this autumn should go about with pockets full of acorns and conkers, to plant trees to make our city more beautiful for our grandchildren.