GOOD FRIDAY BUN FUN (AT THE WIDOW'S SON)

The Widow’s Son pub in Bromley-by-Bow marked Good Friday 2013 with the annual traditional ‘bun ceremony’.  Over the bar area there’s a net with a load of old buns in. Each year a sailor (usually from the Royal Navy) adds another bun. Everyone has a good old drink and freshly baked buns are handed out to the punters.

This cracking bit of East End Easter folklore has it roots in the fact that home baked stuff like biscuits, buns and bread used to be hung up to cool down. A myth grew that if this was done at Easter the bread or buns would never grow mouldy. The house where the widow was supposed to have lived became famous for its hanging buns and so the pub that was built on the site became known as the Bun House/Widow’s Son.

Bromley-by-Bow  is a of those places that has some rich history to it that's either overlooked or forgotten about completely. Bromley Hall is reckoned to be London’s oldest brick-built building, dating back to the 1490s. The Three Mills area (dating back to the Norman conquest) where the River Lea and Limehouse Cut meet is an amazing example of persevered industrial heritage and regeneration. Also Gandhi stayed in the area for 12 weeks whilst attending a conference to discuss Indian independence. Rather than residing at a grand West End hotel the Mahatma preferred to take in some East End hospitality amongst the working people. He also met Charlie Chaplin during his stay, oh to have been a fly-on-the-wall for that!

Capital Walks offers a great stroll around this historic hidden gem of an area. Click on the web link and get in touch to find out more: -

www.capitalwalks.com

‘EVERY DAY I LOOK AT THE WORLD FROM MY WINDOW’

The panoramic picture at the top of this blog is the view from my kitchen and lounge windows.  I’ve spent years gazing out westward when I should have been concentrating on boring things like work etc. I’ve even seen the Red Arrows, a Spitfire and a Lancaster bomber fly over before, not to mention the omni-present police helicopters.

Some people like looking at hills, or valleys, or mountains or the sea.  But this London vista of towers on the skyline, complete with a cluttered foreground of varied London flats, is my delight.

The cityscape views I see from my flat includes a glimpse of the Olympic stadium, the O2 Dome, the Canary Wharf estate (so large and near it’s almost like my garden fence), the Shard and the City skyscrapers.

I can see the remote-controlled Docklands Light Railway trains travelling over a viaduct and disappearing into the glass and steel bow-arc roof of Canary Wharf station, nestled underneath the tall grey and silver giants of the Canary Wharf skyscrapers. Air traffic from nearby City Airport soars in and out low over my head.  Looking out of my huge south facing living room window I can sometimes make out the funnels of luxury liners and ships that occasionally dock near Blackwall. On a clear day I can just make out the dome of the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, and on the horizon the thick woodland of Blackheath.

From where I stand in my kitchen I can see in the distance the newly built St George’s Tower in Vauxhall where recently a helicopter crashed in dense fog. As my eyes scan from left to right I see the spectacular 18^th century spire of St Anne’s church in Limehouse. The church was designed and built by Nicholas Hawksmoor, a pupil of Sir Christopher Wren (architect of, amongst others, St Paul’s cathedral). Hawksmoor built a notable handful of other early 18^th century London churches in the Baroque style. For many years this spire housed the tallest clock face in London. Close by to the river and the docks the clock face lights up for ships to see on foggy nights. St Anne’s association with the river, docks and merchant ships is still present as it officially flies the White Ensign of the Royal Navy.

Behind a social housing block there is the ubiquitous steeple of The Shard. My girlfriend hates it, decrying its existence as all about men with phallus-out-on-the-table-issues. I like it though. I like that the architect was inspired by old pre-Great-Fire London’s skyline being crammed full of church steeples - over 100 in a small area. The view and positioning makes the 21^st century spire play with Hawksmoor’s 18^th century one.

Next on the skyline six or so miles away is the huge ‘Ferris’ wheel, the London Eye – and our focal point for the last two NYE fireworks displays (our baby son has meant we’ve had to stay in to see the New year arrive – twice). At the right time of year and with the right conditions I get the perfect sunset behind the Eye and a genuine, proper, real and perfect ‘Waterloo Sunset’ that might even make Ray Davies jealous. There’s a tantalising church spire next to the Eye. It’s just too far away to identify and I’ve spent years attempting it. I’d like to think it’s the famous St Bride’s in Fleet Street – church of journalists and inspiration for the wedding cake design.

Moving on past some of the bland new-build blocks I come to the skyscrapers of the Square Mile – the now-controversial money-machines of The City where global financial services buzz, shout, clatter and cry. There’s four notable towers that look as though they’re sprouting out from the social housing blocks of Stepney and Whitechapel in the foreground: from left to right is the near-completed curvaceous ‘Walkie-Talkie’ building and then the so-called ‘Cheese Grater’ building (no prizes for guessing why). Both of these have been thrown up simultaneously, contractors no doubt racing to see who finishes first. Next to that is the now world famous Gherkin (or more formally Swiss Re) on St Mary Axe (one of my favourite London street names – more on that later). Then I see ‘Tower 42’ which used to be called the NatWest Tower (looking down at it from above it forms the NatWest bank logo, clever eh?). The tower, at 42 storeys, was opened in the early 1970s as age old rules on height restrictions in London were lifted. The new age of City skyscraper’s was heralded in but now seemingly brought to a halt by this current double (or is it triple now?) dip recession. And finally I can see the 755 foot high Heron Tower, the last, and tallest skyscraper to be opened in the City. All these buildings stand in what is real, original, ancient, modern, lusty, greedy, beautiful, mega, lovely London.
Over the years my personal London panorama has changed with new constructs going up and old ones torn down. It keeps this canvas very much alive. The sea of buildings and architecture teem with life. Everywhere people are toiling, resting, living and being. Each one is filled with inner hopes, fears, love, fascination and danger – all that London and human life brings.

I always, always want to dive into this and explore each ancient nook and cranny. And that’s just what Capital Walks does – get under the skin of the City and the bases of those glittering spires of life and explores. Visit Capital Walks website to find out about how you can explore and hear the stories behind the buildings.

www.capitalwalks.com

'Gawn, gawn - and never called me muvah!' Lost East-End pubs

FIVE PUBS a week are said to close down in London. Time is being called on a vanishing part of community life. The shut-down, boarded up, decaying, derelict edifices that stand all over London are symbolic manifestation of our changing world.

Pubs and churches - on street corners everywhere - were very much the beating pulses of a community. Both institutions provided for the highs and the lows of a hard, sometimes short life.

In and around the area of the docks thirsty labourers would quench themselves with untold gallons of various brewed beers until time was called. But the docks have closed and the workers descendants moved on.

Many of these wonderful old pubs are now consigned to memory (and to internet blogs like this). We lament their passing but share some responsibility. 

A fellow drinker in a soon-to-close East End pub told me, "It's the non-smoking, mineral water sipping health fascists that have killed off the boozer!"

A bit harsh perhaps, as the way we live our lives isn't the same as a generation ago. True, medical science found long ago out that too much booze and smokes will kill you.

But there's also those market forces and the simple (or rather over-complicated) price of things.

Crucially too, the notion of community has changed with old traditions gone. The movement of people is an age-old London thing, and especially in the east end where (im)migration has been the only constant.

The architectural residue of the old industrial East-End at play and rest - that of the permanently shut pub - presents a poignant sight nevertheless. These Victorian ghosts survived the Blitz but not the ravages of the 21st century.

As a walking guide around the East End I love exploring the history and locations of old pubs. It's great fun in a crowd, and even better when you find an open one to quench your thirst at the end!

www.capitalwalks.com