Architecture – Page 15 – slightly weird

21st September 201929th September 2019

I wear a hard hat to the Geffrye Museum

Saturday, 21 September 2019

I took a chance on something I had never done before the day after getting back from Wales.

I saw that Open House London was coming up and that the Geffrye Museum was running hard hat tours for its renovations. The museum has been closed since last year and will reopen in 2020 some time. It’s my favourite museum in London and it’s right here in Hackney, so I’ve really missed it. There were only four tours and each had ten places so I booked a ticket and got one!

I’ve written about the Geffrye before but it’s a lovely concept. It’s housed in some almshouses , which once was home to 56 people. The almshouses were built in 1714 with a bequest from Sir Robert Geffrye, former Lord Mayor of London and Master of the Ironmonger’s Company. At that time the area was quite rural but within a couple of hundred years it became one of the most densely populated areas in London so the owners closed up and moved. The London County Council bought it and the Arts and Crafts movement persuaded them to turn the houses into a museum.

It opened in 1914 and showed off the furniture from local trades people – this was, after all, The Furniture District. From that, the collections were moved into period rooms to show how middle class people lived over the centuries. I find it fascinating to see the rooms – the fashions and customs changing from period to period – and my favourite time was always Christmas. Amazing to see how each generation has celebrated it. Now I’m missing that and here comes another Christmas without those gorgeous tableaux.

The new museum is going to be larger, with a lower level and an upper level, as well as a new cafe, and two pavilions either end for events and education. I do hope I’m in London when it opens its doors properly again.

On Saturday they opened the door to a small ante room where we left our bags and ventured into the construction site, putting on a hardhat and a high viz vest each. The tour guide was Irish so it took me a while to retune my ear. The goal of the new museum will be to feature more than just the middle class home and to improve the flow of traffic. Before there was a narrow corridor that took you past each room and, when done, you returned the same way. This caused traffic jams! Now there will be a one-way system, which will allow you to move through the periods comfortably.

This will be the green roof for one of the new event pavilions. To the right you can see the Hoxton Overground station

Hoxton Overground Station with the hoarding to the left. When that goes down, there will be a brand new entry to the museum straight from where the majority of visitors arrive

Our guide shows us the finished pavilion photo

The basement has been dug deeper to allow higher ceilings and good storage space for cables. Formerly blocked windows will be exposed now to let in more light

This glorious tunnel will be a sound tunnel - a space to reflect on the periods you have passed through — This glorious tunnel will be a sound tunnel – a space to reflect on the periods you have passed through

A construction staircase leading up to the new upper level. When I started up I thought I could do it. Halfway up I almost panicked but, with four people behind me, I had to complete the climb!

The new upper floor. Plenty of ceiling space!

The guide points out the larger pavilion space, the most complete part of the project so far

Inside the larger pavilion - this is right next to where the old entrance area was — Inside the larger pavilion – this is right next to where the old entrance area was

The furniture and other artifacts are safely boarded up for safety and the construction continues. I liked the fact that the building would be as green as possible. I asked about solar panels but was told this wasn’t possible right now. That’s a shame. The gorgeous atrium cafe space is going to be turned into the new entrance area – I’ll miss sitting in there with tea and scones. The new cafe will be housed in an old pub on Cremer Street, which they want to renovate to the period that it once belonged to.

All of the plans were exciting and I hope to be one of the first ones in the door. As for Christmas, well, the Geffrye has had special events and pop ups since it closed and Christmas will be no exception. I think I’ll take the wreath course again.

After I left the museum, I went to Song Que. I haven’t been for years. It’s the most popular Vietnamese restaurant in Hackney. I’m not 100% convinced. However, I wanted to give it a chance. I ordered a small soup (was asked if I was sure since it wasn’t a big bowl – yes!) and some cold rolls that were slightly too tough. But it was a pleasant time-out after the tour. Not sure I’ll bother again.

Perfect size but not rare enough rare beef pho and those chewy Summer rolls

A quick stop at The Grocer, a Whole Foods type store on Kingsland Road. Left with nothing

20th September 201929th September 2019

My week in Wales

Friday, 20 September, 2019

Wales is beautiful…well, Pembrokeshire is. I’ve not seen that much of Wales – bits and pieces and some of it so long ago that I no longer remember the details.

Pembrokeshire is in southwest Wales in that sticky-outy part of the coast where, if you look up to the sky, there are planes travelling from and to North America. In fact, when I cross the Atlantic from Toronto, I’m aware that I’m probably flying over Emma’s town as we reach the coastline.

The trouble is – look away you country folk – Pembrokeshire is rural, dotted with little villages and towns, and it’s wasted on me. Somehow the gene that makes people sigh with relief when they reach the countryside and drink in all that greenery and smell that fresh air skipped me.

Give me the urban life.

But there were five days, more or less, in Wales. Precisely in Goodwick (in Welsh, Wdig) a small coastal town that is twinned with Fishguard (in Welsh, Abergwaun, meaning “Mouth of the River Gwaun”) . There are about 5,000 people living in Fishguard and Goodwick – yes, it’s that small. Emma’s little part of Goodwick is called Stop-and-Call. Confused yet? The photos below show the view from Stop-and-Call, 330 feet from the centre of the town. You can see that you’re high above the harbour.

View of the countryside from Stop-and-Call

View of Fishguard Harbour from Stop-and-Call

Most my time at Stop-and-Call was spent sitting with Emma in her bedroom. Since she’s become less mobile, she’s set up the space with an armchair she can sleep in, a work space, and a small area with a microwave and bar fridge. She goes downstairs when she’s going out. Emma has carers and her son, Sam, helps out. Most of the time it’s Julie, who lives a short walk away. There seems to be a regular routine to all this but Emma says that, after years of yearning for time alone, she spends hours by herself now. She misses London, where she once owned a flat off Brick Lane. I used to love visiting her there.

Emma’s husband, Colin, has been living in a rest home for some time now. He has’end-stage’ MS and so there’s also a complex routine for him, which is shared by Julie and another carer, also called Emma. A lot of Emma’s time is taken up with advocating for Colin and for herself and her family. It’s interesting to see the choreography of it all.

After a quiet but chatty day spent with Emma in her room on Tuesday, we made plans to get out on Wednesday to a spa hotel called The Cliff on the edge of Cardigan. We were promised a stunning view so why not. Elaborate plans were made for the drive – Sam’s friend, Dave, drove us there along many narrow, hedge-lined road, country highways with all the attendant farm vehicles intruding briefly, and through the lovely little towns of Newport and Cardigan – two places I’d consider going back to should I be in Pembrokeshire again.

The Cliff hotel was at the very edge of the Irish Sea. We ate lunch in the sun on the patio, Emma with her wheelchair umbrella. I chose a pasta with local cockles but regretted my choice. It was heavily sauced and this completely swamped the flavour of the cockles, and it was heaped with some crisp, crumbled bacon, which I pushed aside after a couple of tastes. So much for my food review. Well, not quite… Krish and I strolled down to the edge of the cliff to look at the sea, where I took a couple of photos. Then we walked back to have dessert on another bit of the patio that had more comfortable chairs. A deconstructed cheesecake to share…hmm. Three ice cream scoops of under-flavoured dense cream cheese, some biscuit crumbs, a slice of dried orange and some (I thought bitter) blood orange sploshes on the plate. Awful!

(P.S. we preferred the view from Goodwick!)

Continue reading “My week in Wales”

29th August 2019

A routine hospital visit- The Royal London and Whitechapel

Wednesday, 28 August, 2019

I use a CPAP machine – I should talk about that some time – and, while it helps with some pretty severe symptoms such as night terrors and sleep paralysis as well as having a desirable effect of no snoring, it does mean that I’m never truly comfortable while sleeping. I’ve chosen the most minimal mask to wear but I just feel trapped behind it and I’m confined to certain sleeping positions. So when my sleep doctor asked me if I’d like to try a dental device instead, I thought it was worth my while to at least check into it. Reports from the CPAP users that I asked weren’t very favourable but I’d go see for myself.

I got a letter asking me to come to the Dental building at the Royal London Hospital and that’s not so far away. Today was the day. Except I woke up feeling groggy and shaky, and obviously not that thrilled with the thought of rousing myself and getting down there.

I had my tonsils out at the London Hospital (at Whitechapel). I was six years old and while my memories are interesting, they aren’t good ones. I was in a huge ward for about a week, walked down in a group of other lucky surgical victims, tricked into inhaling ether, or whatever they used to put me to sleep, dreamed a long dream of a bright star spinning in inky black space, and woke up to pure torture. If you’ve ever had your tonsils out, you know exactly what I mean.

Archival image of a ward at the London Hospital

Before the surgery, they’d teased me with descriptions of all the lovely ice cream I’d be eating while my throat was ‘sore.’ It sounded all right! Now I knew the truth. Swallowing even my own saliva was more than I could tolerate. Ice cream? No way! I can even sort of remember the terrible, raw, soreness of my throat or can I?

Then a nurse kept coming by as I pulled out of my groggy just-anaethetised state, ‘Are you feeling sick?’ ‘Do you want to be sick?’ At the tender age of six, I found myself thinking ‘Hm, I think they’re telling me I’m going to be sick.’ And soon enough, I threw up a bunch of burning bloody stuff that made my throat feel even worse, if that was possible.

I think I must have struggled with a few sips of water at first. And then some time later, maybe a day, who knows, they came around with the food trolley. I was handed a plate, on which was some buttered bread fingers and many slices of orange. Orange! I knew instinctively that I could not eat those. I protested and was told to be quiet. I looked under the plate where they’d always put a label with the patient’s name, and read ‘Janice Solomon.’ She was the little girl in the opposite bed in for a broken arm. ‘This isn’t mine,’ I said, ‘It’s for Janice Solomon. I can’t eat oranges.’ I was shushed and told ‘Eat it!’ I’ve fortunately forgotten what happened after that but I’m sure it wasn’t pretty.

For a week I could have no visitors. I’ve always had separation anxiety and imagined my family had abandoned me. One sadistic nurse even hinted at it. Then finally I got to go home and put the whole horrible thing behind me. As you can tell, I haven’t ever forgotten it.

Some years ago they closed the hospital and built a brand new hospital complex. Instead of the old brown brick ones, up went some blue glass towers. a few of the old brick ones remain here and there and still serving people. It’s strange that they’re still needed but it’s sort of comforting to see them there. They say that the Tower Hamlets council has bought the old main hospital building on Whitechapel Road and will be using it for a civic centre. It looks like they are keeping the old building and adding to it. I’m glad it won’t look so different from the road.

For some reason, I forgot to photograph the old hospital behind the hoardings but I did wander along the market, which we called Whitechapel Waste in my childhood days. It was a large Jewish market and now is completely Muslim

The new dental clinic at The Royal London – inside it was modern and bright

The old emergency dental clinic at the Royal London – I went once and it was archaic and dark

Looking past the corner of the old dental clinic, you can see the many blue towers of the new Royal London

One of the remaining old buildings of the RLH – still in use

From the orthodontics clinic window – a long queue for one of the old buildings

I’m going back to the clinic later in the year for more investigations – I’m not ready yet for the device they want me to try – but I’ll be back in Whitechapel again many many times before that.
Continue reading “A routine hospital visit- The Royal London and Whitechapel”

27th August 2019

Quirky Glasgow

18-21 August, 2019

Glasgow, you’re quirky! And I like that about you.

The quirkiest stuff is in the east end. It’s a rough area with no compromises. This is the Glasgow they tell you to avoid but, if you do, you’ll miss the very heart of this eclectic city.

This diner had some cheap cheap meals with a Scottish and Italian twist

A Glasgow icon, The Saracen Head, the oldest pub in Glasgow. The Glaswegians call it the Sarry Heid. It even has its own song – if you can find it online, let me know

Lots of sandwiches, lots of shutters and an offer to sell us marijuana. This was done when a shopkeeper followed Krish out of a store he’d wandered into for matches. Enterprising!

Barrowland, next to The Barras Market — The Barrowland Ballroom, next to The Barras Market, opened in 1934 and has had many musical acts since then

The Barras - Glasgow's east end market — Last time we were at The Barras market it didn’t look as clean. There were many ramshackle stalls and shops and a hoard of football fans. The term “barra” is Glaswegian dialect for “barrow” when goods were sold from handcarts

Near the River Clyde the new Glasgow is emerging

A hostel sign that made me feel very Canadian

And speaking of feeling Canadian, over by the university we found this! A really good belly laugh – even though we knew Glasgow had two of them.

These sturdy pillars were beautifully etched, by the Glasgow Central train tracks along the Clyde

A little glimpse of the station among the metal

It's a Chelsea kinda attitude — It’s a Chelsea kinda attitude – on Bath Street

Could be the Brandenburg or Heroes Square

This bridge looked like it was made by Brunel but wasn't — Are we in Bristol? This bridge looked like it was made by Brunel but wasn’t

Glasgow may seem Italian sometimes but this is a reminder Gaelic is spoken

Couldn't resist taking this one - Krish's initials — Couldn’t resist taking this one – Krish’s initials

Ready for development — Ready for redevelopment

On the banks of the Clyde, Ladies used to wait ... for what? A boat? — On the banks of the Clyde, Ladies used to wait … for what? A boat?

Can't leave Scotland without having an Irn Bru! — Can’t leave Scotland without having an Irn Bru!

Continue reading “Quirky Glasgow”

27th August 2019

Graffiti in Glasgow

18-21 August, 2019

Glasgow wasn’t close to London in how much street art it has but some of the pieces were quite lovely. Before arriving, we checked out the Mural Trail Map, but decided that we would see what we would see in the natural course of our day.

So see them we did. By chance and occasionally by design. Can you guess which ones I love the best?

Don't be fooled. This is a mural! — Don’t be fooled. This is a mural!

Oh, yes, my favourites were the girl stepping out of the Van Gogh, and St Enoch cradling St Mungo (second from bottom). A close third was the depiction of Charles Rennie Mackintosh with his roses, at the site of the Clutha Bar, where a helicopter crashed in 2013. And I got a kick out of the two pieces featuring Tunnock’s Teacakes, Krish’s favourite snack. In a narrow alley, I could only take badly angled views.

I can’t label all of these but maybe with time… Oh, to have better legs to see all that Glasgow had to offer in the way of street art.