Monday 26 March 2018

LOCAL PUBS FOR LOCAL PEOPLE


I read in the SEBRA news that The Redan, on the corner of Queensway and Westbourne Grove, is threatened with closure. This is very bad news. Apart from anything else, it's a living connection with the Crimean War. The Redan was a celebrated feature of the battlefield of Sebastopol, and the storming of the Redan by Windham's Brigade on 8th September 1855 was one of the great British feats of arms of that shabby war, which was the first to gain modern media coverage and so created legends and celebrities in a very modern way. The trouble with a redan is that it's a military earthwork which is open at the back, so it's not actually defensible once you've stormed it; you need the whole enemy army to run away, otherwise they will just regroup and come back at you, which sadly is what happened to Windham's Brigade. Nevertheless, the Russians withdrew the next day, and the battle was won, so it became a great triumph, and it was certainly the scene of much bravery. The pub sign has a painting of the battle, and this was clearly the original name of the pub, from the time of its building, so it would be a shame to lose it.

The Marquess of Anglesey is a pub that has disappeared, but at least the building remains, because it has an important part in social history. It was on the corner of Ashmill Street and Daventry Street, between Edgware Road and Lisson Grove, and on my cycle route home from Bloomsbury or the City. This was the pub (it's now architects' offices) where the campaigning journalist W T Stead bought a thirteen-year-old girl for £5 in the summer of 1885. Stead was exposing child prostitution, and was sent to prison for three months for his pains, but the series of articles he wrote was instrumental in getting the age of consent raised from thirteen to fifteen. The girl was called Eliza Armstrong, and the pub was where her mother met Stead's accomplice, a reformed brothel-keeper, to effect the transaction. If you remember "My Fair Lady" (which is the musical of George Bernard Shaw's "Pygmalion", written in 1912) you may recall that Doolittle offers to sell his daughter Eliza to Henry Higgins, and that Higgins when he first meets Eliza identifies her accent as being from Lisson Grove: Shaw was one of Stead's closest supporters.

The Squirrel, across the junction from my office at St Peter's, is what used to be The Skiddaw (it was still that when we were first here) and never seems terribly busy. I hope it survives, because it is where the Victorian poet Francis Thompson used to spend his evenings when he lived in various sets of lodgings along Elgin Avenue and Goldney Road in the 1890s and 1900s. Thompson, who was a failed seminarian and morphine addict, used to sit in the corner by the fire to keep warm. He was kept afloat in his career as a poet by the wealthy Roman Catholic man of letters Wilfrid Meynell, who lived in Palace Court, off Bayswater Road, and it gave shape to Thompson's days to walk down there to see him.    

I don't think I ever saw The Yorkshire Stingo, but it was in the list of pubs in my "Nicholson's London Guide" which I was given as a child and continued to use through teenage and student visits to London. Mother and I never came that far north, because it was on the Marylebone Road, just at the angle where Old Marylebone Road turns south-west; and it was demolished in 1970 as part of the works for the Marylebone Flyover, which takes off at that point. The Yorkshire Stingo was the western terminus of Shillibeer's Omnibus, London's first scheduled bus service, in 1829; the bus is always described as going from Paddington to the Bank of England, but although the pub was on the edge of Paddington it was technically in St Marylebone, being the wrong side of Edgware Road, which is the historic boundary (being the Roman Watling Street). Not only that, but The Yorkshire Stingo also had a place in London's black history, as it was one of the places where the Committee for the Relief of the Black Poor handed out relief to the unfortunate black loyalists who had fought for Britain in the American War of Independence (and who didn't qualify for relief under the Poor Law because they weren't born in an English parish). It seems that in 1786 it was somewhere that black Londoners met.  

The Waterway, my nearest pub, used to be The Paddington Stop, a landmark for canal boaters. It was totally rebuilt and given a new character shortly before we moved here, and I'm not sure you would call it a pub today. I have received a very grudging welcome when only wanting drinks, and they seem to employ some of the least well-informed bar staff you could imagine. Essentially it's an eating place, under the same management as the Summerhouse, further along Blomfield Road; you sometimes see kitchen staff wheeling trolleys from one to the other. It does staggeringly good business when the weather is pleasant.

The Elephant and Castle, on Elgin Avenue, just before the Harrow Road, has finally been redeveloped as flats, an enterprise that must have taken seven years. It was a nasty 1970s building that is little-mourned, but I imagine it perpetuated an older name, because that's not the sort of name breweries were giving new pubs at that time. The elephant and castle was the badge of the Royal African Company, one of the pioneers of the slave trade between West Africa and the West Indies. Lest we forget. 

Tuesday 20 March 2018

ROADS AND PARKS


Autumn Leaves Part 2

I am pleased to report that the pedestrian footpath has now largely been cleared of autumn leaves. The leaves and leaf-mould have been shovelled into large white plastic sacks that have been sitting on the grass for the past week (so that will be good for the grass!) and the path is nearly clear. Jolly good.

Meanwhile, on the main section of the Green, a large area is fenced off by contractors who are apparently installing gym equipment. This involves digging up grass, levelling the surface, installing kerbstones and presumably will involve putting some sort of surface down, though they haven't got that far yet, despite being there for three weeks. A significant area of grass will be lost. When I first saw this, I asked the councillors what was going on, and after they explained, I was told that there had been consultation; well, I wasn't consulted, and nor were my neighbours; I imagine they only consulted people in flats adjoining that section of the Green, as the people who would be affected by the works, and whose view would be altered. Not really keeping the community informed, but never mind. Apparently Westminster have been given money for this purpose. Now, I'm sure this is a good thing, or would be if people know that the equipment is there, though we already have the equipment for a "fitness trail" around the Green, which gets little use. It will be interesting to see how much use this new equipment will get. The thing is, though, that local young people do actually use the grass to take exercise, playing football. Westminster Parks Department cannot recognise that fact, though, because they forbid ball games on the Green, and so they pretend that installing this equipment will improve people's fitness levels, when in fact it may inhibit young people from taking the exercise that they already do.

The Parks Department's self-defeating regulations are a particular bugbear of mine. Why ban football, exactly? On a large stretch of grass ball games can be accommodated alongside other activity. There are no flower beds to destroy. Similarly, cycling is theoretically banned on the Green, but Westminster allowed the creation of the cycle path through the canalside section (with mayoral money) some ten years ago, while the path down towards Royal Oak is regularly used by cyclists (not just me) and is wide enough to allow that without any threat to pedestrians. In fact, the local cycle training for children (which may perhaps get a little funding from WCC) takes place on the paths of the Green. It seems futile to put up notices prohibiting harmless (indeed beneficial) activities, particularly when you have no intention of enforcing those prohibitions.


Conservation

The conservators have just about finished work on cleaning the upper register of the nave ceiling, and very splendid it looks. That's forty-eight saints, with twenty-four more to go in the lower register. At the same time, obviously, the background panels (with a pleasing mauve among the most prominent colours) and the elaborately patterned ribs are also being cleaned. One or two of the saints have been badly damaged by past scrubbing, and there are tricky decisions about what detail to put back in, but our conservators (and conservation architects) are very judicious. It is noticeable that several of the saints seen in profile have large noses; are we dealing with a Victorian nose fetishist?

As soon as we put in our new uplighters five years or so ago, which enabled the nave ceiling to be seen reasonably well for the first time in decades, people remarked on what looked like painted flames. I would say, "The ceiling's depicting heaven, with all the saints," and after a pause someone would ask, "Why are there flames?" I have always tried to talk about it being rays of light, rather than flames, but people always sound unconvinced. I hope that when we have the chancel ceiling visible as well (just lighting revealed nothing of that) then the continuation of the motif there may make it more intelligible as the divine light. Because in the chancel the rays of light emerge from the centre into a roughly semi-circular ceiling the image of a sunburst makes sense, but in the nave, the rays emerge from either side of the ridge, which doesn't immediately suggest the sun. 


Heavy Traffic

I realise that it annoys motorists when cyclists skirt round puddles, but the problem is that you never know how deep a puddle may be, or how sharp the edge of the concealed pothole may be. When the snow was melting this was a particular issue on the Harrow Road, as you couldn't be sure how much new damage had been made by the ice. Still, Kilburn Park Road is much the worst road surface in the neighbourhood, which may be because it comes under Brent rather than Westminster (the boundary runs up the middle), but also because it has constant buses and a regular flow of cement lorries and concrete mixers, not least because of the redevelopment of the South Kilburn Estate. It's all very well applauding the amount of building going on in London, but the heavy vehicles that building works require take a real toll on the local roads. Our little building site actually generates very little, as the new build element is tiny, but all these new blocks of flats and offices contain vast amounts of steel and concrete which have to be shipped around on large, heavy vehicles, destroying the road surface. Remember, cyclists are actually killed by potholes!

Tuesday 13 March 2018

THE TWO-FOLD PATH



Autumn Leaves

When our contractors started work on site, there was a lot of concern from parents about traffic and congestion on the paths at 8.50 and 3.30, because the site compound was taking away one path, and the canalside path has parallel cycling and walking sections. So, the contractors bought warning signs for cyclists and put them up, and undertook to make sure that the cycle path was clear of rubbish, so that cyclists could always use its full width and didn’t have to stray onto the pedestrian section. This has worked very well. They have kept the cycle path absolutely clean where it runs alongside the site compound. Westminster Parks Department on the other hand have not done the same. A couple of council workmen were beginning to clear the piles of autumn leaves last week, and I heard one complain that the leaves were very heavy. Well, that’s the consequence of leaving them for four or five months to absorb large quantities of rain and snow. In my garden I can claim that they will rot down and put valuable organic matter into the soil (I know, it doesn’t actually happen that quickly) but that benefit is not available on a tarmac path. I expect that it was cost-cutting that meant that the autumn leaves were left until the spring, but the drawback with that is that the gang clearing them last week didn’t finish the job (presumably because it was hard work). So there are still sections where cyclists have to come wide. The other problem that drives cyclists onto the pedestrian path, brambles and other branches growing through the fence from the towpath, is rarely addressed either.   


An Odd Vehicle

Seen parked on the pavement outside the West London Buddhist Centre’s palatial premises in Porchester Road: a mobility scooter, with a pretend registration plate bearing the letters “VEGAN”. I expect they extrapolate their faith in veganism from Buddhism, because that is quite a common (western) connection to make. I would have supposed that the Buddha’s way of moderation implied something a bit different, but that’s only an observation.

I remember when we took a group of Helen’s sixth-formers to Nepal (eighteen years ago) and were to stay in a Tibetan refugee school, we assiduously warned the girls to expect the food to be vegetarian, since our hosts were Tibetan Buddhists. In fact (rather unattractive) meat featured regularly in the diet. The fact is that people living in harsh conditions tend to eat what is available and safe. Later on during that trip we stayed at a hotel in the Terai, and I didn’t go out with the group one afternoon, and so I was the only one there to see the kitchen staff dragging our dinner round to the back of the building to butcher it. I thought it best not to tell the girls.


Not So Angry

Angry Woman with Dog appeared at church on Sunday (obviously after Mass had finished) but she was cleaner than usual, and didn’t have the dog in tow. Nor was she angry. She was still looking for money, but was in a better state. Apparently her housing providers have moved her out into a flat in Tower Hamlets, but this is seemingly only temporary while they do the repairs necessary to her flat here. She had photos of a flat that I wouldn’t have believed was hers, and seemed proud of it. In truth, it would be better for her to move out of this area permanently, as she has so many feuds locally that having her as a neighbour will never be enjoyable, and people will always be trying to sell her drugs. She also seems to be engaging with some of the support agencies, which I have never known her do before. That is all good news. She apparently still has the dog, as there were photos, and she is still besotted with it. She says she wants me to write a letter to say she shouldn’t come back here, as apparently her excellent GP is doing; I would be delighted to do so.


Oy! No, Under Armour!

Is there a nastier home kit in the Premier League than Southampton’s this season? Seeing it in close-up in the post-match interview last Saturday I was struck by how misguided it all is. They traditionally wear stripes; red with a broad white panel is not the same, and this panel is much too broad. The shirt is effectively white in front, and red at the back and sides (I don’t like the current fad for striped shirts to have solid-colour backs, so West Brom appear to be in navy blue shirts when seen from behind; it’s not the only way to make numbers stand out, and is visually confusing). But it’s not just that white shirtfront, it’s the collar, or rather the neckline, because there is no collar. The white panel ends in a V-neck, which “reveals” a red section, as though of an undershirt, but the white panel doesn’t go all the way to the shoulders, but stops at collar-bone level, so there are red “epaulettes” connecting sleeves and sides; that red section is then edged with a white “collar”, which of course abuts the red “undershirt”. It takes a long time to describe because it is very fussy, a series of misguided solutions to design issues that should never have arisen. I admit the shirt manufacturer’s logo stands out nicely, though; perhaps that is the point.  

Monday 5 March 2018

WINTER SPORTS

Public Sessions

On Friday I conducted a confirmation preparation session in Costa Coffee, which seems rather trendy. It was not solely done with safeguarding in mind, but that was a major factor. It's really not sensible to have one-to-one sessions in an otherwise empty house, even with young adults (as in this case). We have to proceed with care, so a public venue was a good idea. I remember when I was a Curate, the Archdeacon of Exeter telling us in his Visitation Charge that we should be careful to keep a coffee table between us and anyone we were counselling,(he meant adults of the opposite gender in those days) so being careful about these things is not new. It's just a good thing that today's young people are a great deal more relaxed about speaking of matters of faith in public than I would have been.


In The Snow

We had two days of closed schools, and then on Saturday the snow was melting. It's nice and quiet for me when the Primary School next door is closed, but the trouble was that with no traffic the road was completely snowed over; a delivery driver battled through and so I had to take a package in for the school, but that was all. The result was that I had to wheel my bike through the snow before I could start cycling. The roads on the estate were never gritted, but apart from Rowington Close, there was enough traffic just to keep them, passable. The Harrow Road, meanwhile, was absolutely fine, having been repeatedly gritted. It was pretty cold and uncomfortable for cycling, but I got around safely. The main problem was having to take longer routes, because the two normal routes off the estate are on paths through the park, and I knew from experience that these would never be cleared of snow. The last time we had snow it remained safer to walk on the grass than the paths for several days after the last snowfall because the Parks Department didn't touch them. I'm not sure what Westminster's park keepers do when it snows, but they certainly don't clear paths, which might not matter if the parks were only places of casual resort, but does matter when they contain important thoroughfares, as here. In striking contrast are the Westminster street-sweepers, employed by Veolia, who were issued with grit in their little carts and were out in the snow gritting pavements. Well done!

By Sunday afternoon you would hardly know there had been any snow. I went for a ride and found I was able to try really hard; I hadn't really worked out that I was being inhibited by the cold for the last couple of weeks, but that was how it had been. I saw a quote from Greg Van Avermaet (pro cyclist) after Saturday's Strade Bianche race in Tuscany (which was cold and very muddy) in which he said that his body hadn't allowed him to dig deep. Not a remotely similar case, but I understand what he meant.


Heating

Bizarrely, someone has been turning the radiators off in St Peter's Church. I came in to say Mass last Tuesday, and found the place cold, radiators off. I cursed and turned them all on again. Then it was the same for the Women's World Day of Prayer on Friday, according to my (female) churchwarden. This evening I am leading Stations of the Cross, so I just went down to check, and it had happened again. This is very odd, and more than a bit frustrating, as we have only just got working radiators after years of them noisily blowing out cold air. Our landlords, Genesis Housing, announced that they were renewing the boilers in the block and as a consequence would be able to send out accurate heating bills; we responded that we were disinclined to pay heating bills until we had radiators that actually produced heat. There then followed many months of nothing much happening, while various contractors and surveyors came in, looked, sucked their teeth and went away again. Then, finally, we suddenly got a result. An engineer came and changed all our radiators, so all of a sudden we had warmth. The old radiators dated from the mid 1970s, so it was hardly surprising that they weren't working well, but it was handy to have said goodbye to them at just the right time.   


TV Drama

I've started watching "Call The Midwife" again, which Helen and I used to watch together. It often makes me cry, but last night's was really difficult as they killed off the Curate's wife. I just bawled and bawled. You think you're okay, and then something comes along and opens the wound again.