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.

Suicidal bakers (06.01.12)

Topped by what looks like a flaming Christmas pudding, this, the tallest isolated stone column in the world, stands 202ft high and although obscured by office buildings, the Shard being the latest can still offer commanding views of The City. If you have the energy, and it must be said, the courage to ascend its 311 steps the view is spectacular from the top of London’s Monument.

You climb up inside the column with just a thin, worn handrail to prevent your rapid descent until you arrive at the viewing platform. This was once a favourite spot for people wishing to commit suicide who had a head for heights. There must be something about kneading dough or the fact that as a result of a nearby baker’s oven the City was consumed by fire, that has made this ledge the launch pad of choice for suicidal bakers.

Six unfortunates have committed suicide by jumping from the top of the Monument and three had associations with baking; John Cradock in 1788; a man named Leander in 1810; and Margaret Moyes a daughter of a baker in 1839. This knead to end one’s life stopped in 1842 when a cage was inserted over the platform.

James Boswell – Dr Johnson’s biographer – came here in 1762 to climb to what was then the highest viewpoint in London. Halfway up he suffered a panic attack, but he persevered and made it to the top, where he found it “horrid to be so monstrous a way up in the air, so far above London and all its spires”.

Poor Boswell didn’t have the incentive that you now have of receiving a certificate for your efforts when you reach terra firma. But as you receive the proof of completing your ascent at the bottom of the column, there is no check of your bravery in having reached the very top.

The Monument stands on the site of St. Margaret’s Church in Fish Street, the first church lost to the Great Fire of London; the column stands 202ft high and 202ft from the seat of the fire in Pudding Lane which in 1666 destroyed four-fifths of the City.

It was designed by Christopher Wren and Robert Hooke who had wanted to use its hollow centre to suspend a pendulum for scientific experiments, but the vibrations from the heavy traffic on Fish Hill made the conditions unsuitable. During the construction, they also used it as a fixed telescope, again with unsatisfactory results.

The architects originally wanted to surmount the column with a phoenix (embodying the motto of London (of which we, alas seldom use): “Resurgem” – “I am reborn”, this was abandoned in favour of a colossal statue of King Charles II. But the Monarch pointed to the fact that he didn’t start the fire, so why should he be plonked on top of the monument which commemorates its origins. So a golden flaming Christmas pudding it was.

Lastly, one curious incident happened during the Blitz. On 9th September 1940 one of the first heavy high-explosive bombs to fall on the City landed on King William Street, almost exactly 202ft from the Monument the same distance to the west as our culprit bakery was to the north.

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.

When I were a nipper (04.01.12)

When I were a nipper at about this time of year we would go up West to see the annual pantomime at the London Palladium. In the early 1950s, the Palladium would always have its annual feast of comedy characters in drag: Frankie Howard; Richard Hearne (Mr Pastry); Max Bygraves; and my all-time favourite Norman Wisdom.

But the highlight of the trip was not an early introduction into the world of theatre, but the gastronomical delight that preceded the show – a trip to a Lyons Tea Room or Lyons Corner Houses. In the days when Lyons had aspirations beyond a Mr Kipling Bakewell tart these vast emporiums dominated the casual dining market in London.

The first Lyons teashop opened in Piccadilly in 1894, the premises are still a cafe and are now called Ponti’s where you can still see the original stucco ceiling of the original teashop. The Lyons teashops became so popular that in the 1950s there were seven along Oxford Street alone and 250 nationally, but it was their Corner Houses which were the most impressive. In total London had three: one on the junction with Tottenham Court Road and Hanway Street; a second at Coventry Street and Rupert Street; the third at the intersection of Strand and Craven Street.

They were huge, and the entire ground floor was taken up as a food hall where Mum would buy such luxury goods as coleslaw or Parmesan cheese. Above were three or four levels of restaurants each with its own decorative style with an orchestra playing throughout the day.

But the best was the waitresses in their maid-like black dresses, with white aprons and tiara-type hats. Originally called “Gladys” by 1926 it was felt that name was old fashioned and suggestions included “Sybil-at-your-service”, Miss Nimble”, Miss Natty”, “Busy Betty” and “Dextrous Doris”, but they eventually were referred to as Nippies because of their ability to move speedily around the diners’ tables and often no doubt trying to avoid the advances of middle-aged men, although it was reported by Picture Post that every year 800-900 Nippies got married to customers “met on duty” and the publication wrote that being a Nippy was good training for becoming a housewife.

The Corner Houses also had hairdressers, telephone booths, theatre booking agencies and a food delivery service. These were also pioneers of self-service dining, and an amusing anecdote by John Hall tells of the Lyons Corner House in the Strand which offered a fixed-price meal, with the attraction of being able to fit as much as you could on your tray for the one price. Unfortunately, the tray was on a conveyor belt moving down the counter quicker than you could stack it with food.

Two other Corner Houses were managed under the Maison Lyons brand one at Marble Arch and the other in Shaftsbury Avenue called The Trocadero, which during the war was given over to American troops and known as Rainbow Corner, it can’t have been a coincidence that the Windmill with its proud boast “We Never Close” who offered male entertainment was opposite.

In a world just recovering from a devastating war and sweet rationing still in force, with much of London laid to rubble by the bombing high tea was a luxury but sadly the last teashop closed in 1981. Now the good news is that Lyons-style tea houses are set to return. Headed by a former operations chief at Starbucks, but don’t let that put you off, using the Lyons teashop brand the first opened in Bluewater shopping centre and female members of the CabbieBlog were among the first to sample the delight of finger sandwiches, scones and cakes: And their opinion? Brilliant.