This morning I watched the Harry and Meghan wedding and enjoyed almost all of it. I will go down as one who found Bishop Curry’s sermon overwhelming and annoying. I enjoyed the cello playing of Sheku Kanneh-Mason, whose career will surely skyrocket now. Windsor looked beautiful, Meghan was radiant, Harry was besotted and tender. What more can you ask for?
Wedding watching accomplished and BBC moving on to the FA Cup, I ventured out to Stoke Newington for the Abney Park Open House.
Abney Park Entrance
Abney Park dates from the early 18th century and is one of the ‘magnificent seven’ garden cemeteries of London. It’s a woodland memorial park, an arboretum, and a local Nature Reserve, as well as housing events and workshops. It’s a unique cemetery in that it’s non-denominational, doesn’t have an orderly layout, is as much a park as a cemetery, and has some amazing botanicals. Its 2,500 trees and shrubs were all labelled, and arranged around the perimeter alphabetically, from A for Acer to Z for Zanthoxylum. This planting was carefully designed to do as little as possible to change the existing picturesque land.
All of this gives it a ‘wild’ look. The grass and wildflowers are overgrown and the ivy climbs everywhere, sometimes obscuring the graves. If you go to any of the stones along the path edges and peer past, you’ll see other stones and graves further in, hidden by accident or design. And, although, it’s a cemetery housing many dead, it has a lived-in atmosphere since people wander in here studying the plants, and sit among the graves, picnic, and enjoy music.
I’ll confess to having had a hard time knowing what photos to include here. To me, this the most beautiful cemetery I’ve seen and so forgive the sheer number of images. There are many that I didn’t include.
People enjoying the park
While some graves appear to have been placed in some order, others are random and partly obscured, seeming part of the woodland landscape
For the past two weeks I have eaten the two cheeses that were maturing in the fridge. On the left is the ‘white’ cheese, which had a Cheddar depth and texture. On the right is the ‘blue’ cheese. This didn’t really taste like a blue and had a tart flavour and a more crumbly texture. You can see where the blue veins tried to creep through but didn’t succeed. Regardless, I preferred this one.
The white and the (failed) blue cheeses. Both delicious!
They looked good on the cold plates of food we choose for dinner on many nights. Those and the burratas from Gallo Nero are always popular options.
A cold plate and a burrata
On Friday I made the trip into Spitalfields in search of photos and poutine. I’d been putting it off for weeks. I love the 67 bus route that takes me from Dalston and then before it hits Bishopsgate, turns along Commercial Street towards its Aldgate destination. It’s quieter than Bishopsgate and takes me to the more interesting views from Commercial Street.
From Commercial Street, I can see the Walkie Talkie, and the Gherkin rapidly being crowded in by the new towers under construction
Poutine is these days considered the national dish of Canada. Canadians may not agree but it’s certainly iconic. French fries are covered in cheese curds (never mature cheese) and the whole thing is doused in gravy. The curds stay more or less whole but some melt or become partially melted. It’s an artery-clogging treat, one I don’t have more than once a year.
The view along Wentworth Street from Commercial Street
On the corner of Wentworth Street at Commercial Street once a week you can find The Poutinerie stand. These guys make the real thing. Others merely imitate. They also attract quite a queue. I joined the back of it.
Paul, one of the owners, serves up the poutine in a cardboard carton. He tells me that they are doing well after those first difficult years. Now they are survivors, outlasting all the other food trucks in the areas they visit. A traditional poutine (meat or vegetarian gravy) will cost you £5, the one with rib meat will cost £8-10.
It’s a huge portion. I know I can’t eat it all but I’ll do my best. I try some of the Ribman sauce they are famous for. It’s spicy and delicious. All I can do is dig in and hope for someone to share it with next time, about year from now.
Balancing my poutine and my phone so I can still take photos I head down Toynbee Street. This street has an elaborate history in an area considered “the worst parish… inhabited mostly by a criminal population” consisting of “wretched streets and foul alleys full of houses that are desolation without and squalour within”.
Foxes are a frequent subject for street art – this one on Toynbee Street
Also on Toynbee Street there’s a row of derelict houses. I would look at these on many walks and think there was nowhere uglier in all of Spitalfields. Ironically, some years later, John told me that ancestors had lived here. (See John’s note below.) I wonder if they were still OK to look at then and not yet descended to the ugly mess they are now. They’ve stood derelict all the time I’ve seen them. There are great plans to regenerate this area so perhaps I will see them gone one day.
Derelict homes on Toynbee StreetA common sight – a photo shoot on Brune Street, with its modern backdrop
From here I headed into Spitalfields Market hoping to find mugs for Prince Harry and Meghan Markle’s wedding – a request from my friend, Judy. I looked and looked and didn’t find any. Not ready to give up quite yet. Spitalfields Market is changing so much now. Gone are the crowded, independent merchants’ stalls and, in their place, modern modular units = stark, clean, and missing the character of the old market. Everything changes.
Two views of the new stalls of Spitalfield Market
What does remain outside of the market is a lovely street marker. If you look around the area you’ll see many of these roundels, each depicting what was going on in the vicinity. This one shows fruit which would have been sold here originally.
Roundel for Spitalfields Market – apples and pearsThe crowd outside The Ten Bells, Commercial StreetOne piece by Mr Cenz, whose work is frequently seen in the neighbourhoodView from Spital Square to the Gherkin – love the greeneryLaugh of the day, Spital Square
Notes from John about my ancestral connections with Spitalfields (many!): Regarding your blog and Toynbee Street (originally Shepherd Street):
In and around 1881 the Willings, both from Amsterdam, who I think had been in England since their mid teens, lived at 13 Shepherd Street. If I understand the history of the area correctly, the buildings were put up about 1850 with six floors. Some were removed for the Holland Estate, an early council development in the late 1920s. In 1963 the top floors were removed from the remaining buildings, perhaps because they were not structurally sound at that height. The Willings, when they first lived there, were in their early twenties. Their address when they married in Princes (later Princelet) Street synagogue in September 1880 was on neighbouring Freeman Street. Sophie was born in 1888 on neighbouring Tilley Street. All these streets were in the Tenterground, which had a large Dutch immigrant population, and had only one entry through a large stone arch at White’s Row.
And remember that our great grandfather Charles Simmons sold produce at Spitalfields Market. At that time it hadn’t expanded to the west yet, so if we divide the present space into a west, middle, and east section, his stall would have been in the east one.
My friend, Virginia (Jinni), and her husband Dave are visiting London. This means a lot of guiding and walking. Most of what I see is familiar but I do sometimes spot something new and that’s always a nice suprise!
On Monday, I met them for a local walk around for groceries. Instead of the fish and chip dinner I thought we might have we went to a pasta place close to their hotel. To my mind, the Italians tend to undercook ravioli. At least, I know that it’s supposed to be al dente and that’s fine but I think I prefer my ravioli and pasta a bit more tender than that. Doesn’t have to be soft but … yes, tender. It’s made me more determined to make a little of my own. After making it with a machine and with a rolling pin, I say the machine wins for the thinner, more tender, dough.
We started our walk near Arnold Circus (my usual route). The middle garden area was looking like Spring was taking hold. A nice oasis in busy Shoreditch.
Arnold Circus gazebo
We aren’t wimps but let’s say we are getting older. We stopped in The London Tea Exchange on Brick Lane. The server comes to your table and asks what you’re looking for and then choose a few options for you to smell and consider. I chose the Green tea with Rose. It was very fragrant and refreshing. I was already starting to feel the warmer weather after the past several wet and cold ones. Five pounds well spent? Hmmm.
Rose green tea at the Tea ExchangeDave and Jin spotted this building name – I had never noticed it!
I had booked three spaces at Ottolenghi so we arrived and ordered our dinner. The prices have gone up – no surprise – my cold main and two salads was £18.80. I enjoyed it but thought I might have got the end of the roast since it wasn’t as rare as it used to be. Still, I made good choices – with Roasted butternut squash with nigella yoghurt, grilled spring onion and green chilli, Green beans, red endive with miso tahini and toasted sesame, and the fillet of beef.
Lunch at Ottolenghi
I had been trying for over a week to get some spaces at Skygarden. It was definitely frustrating me. On Monday morning I was ready to grab spots for Tuesday and stupidly was waiting for something to show up while still on the April calendar. When I figured out what I was doing wrong, it was too late, no spots. Still, I knew that cancellation spots turned up if you keep checking and to my surprise as we left Ottolenghi, five spots showed for 3pm. I quickly selected three spots and prayed I’d been on time. I was! It was 2:20pm.
Every time I go to Skygarden now I think I don’t need to come back, but there I was and, despite the dull sky, I took a few photos for posterity!
The Tower, Tower Bridge, and City HallThe Shard and London Bridge HospitalLooking west with St Pauls
I’ve seen Hackney tours advertised quite often but they’re on Saturdays – I can’t manage Saturday before lunch. For some reason, the last time I saw a tour advertised it was on a Sunday so I set about rearranging my day before worrying about my ability to keep up with a group and on a tour that promised we would climb St Augustine’s Tower, all 135 steps of it.
No matter. I arrived at Hackney Town Hall for 11am and hoped for the best! The group were mostly older but a few young ‘uns thrown in there. I think we were all more or less locals and wondering what we’d learn that we didn’t know.
The tour guide is Sean Gubbins and, because Hackney is a very large borough (the largest in London), every two or three weeks he tours around a different area. Today was the Heart of Hackney tour – around the town hall, the Narrow Way, and some stops on the way over to Sutton House.
Hackney Town Hall, it turns out, is the third town hall of Hackney. The first was a little one over on the Narrow Way. It became a bank at one point and I remember going in and seeing a plaque that said that Ted Cohen, the founder of Tesco, had started his business with a loan there. Now it’s a betting shop, one of far too many around the borough. The second incarnation was where the new one is now but closer to the main road of Mare Street. This one was very imposing but I do think that the new one, being set back from the road with the square in front of it and the new library and Hackney empire flanking it, is nicely located if not beautiful.
The new Town HallThe ‘new libraryThe side of the Hackney Empire
Ever wondered why there are palm trees at the Town Hall and around the borough?
A world-renowned Victorian nursery garden and hothouse once stood near Mare Street – where Hackney Town Hall is now. It was called Loddiges, founded by Joachim Conrad Loddiges.
Described as a ‘latter-day Eden,’ the original Loddiges was home to the world’s largest hothouse. Famed for its collection of orchids and ferns, the nursery was a pioneer in the import and cultivation of rare exotic plants into Britain and attracted visitors from all over Europe and was known as the Grand Palm House. Here palms flourished like nowhere else in the world, set amidst an array of other tropical plants.
Over time, Loddiges supplied plants to places like Kew Gardens, Woburn Abbey, Chatsworth House, St James’ Park and Kensington Gardens, as well as the Imperial Gardens of St. Petersburg and the Adelaide Botanic Garden.
Unfortunately, following the deaths of Joachim’s sons, William and George and due to the changing London landscape, Loddiges closed its gates in 1852. Two years later, Londoners witnessed the stately procession of thirty-two plumed horses as they drew a giant palm tree, the jewel in the Loddiges Nursery’s crown, to its final resting place at the Crystal Palace, Sydenham. The Loddiges tomb can be found in the former churchyard behind St Augustine’s Tower. Continue reading “Heart of Hackney Tour”
My brother, John, has been a keen genealogist for some time and keeps me honest on these pages. The amount of history my family has – on both sides – with this borough of Hackney and that of Tower Hamlets is quite astonishing. No wonder I feel completely at home on these streets. Although it’s not as prolific as the connection with Mile End, Bethnal Green, Spitalfields and Whitechapel, there is a pretty strong line in Hackney so I’ve chased some of the places up.
‘Birth cert of Kate Lees (Samuel Simmons’ – my paternal grandmother – mother) of 1865 shows she was born at 25 Wentworth St. Terrible reputation but maybe the street was not as bad at that time. Also, her mother Hannah’s last address was 140 Imperial. The Willing great grandparents also lived on Imperial (#37), not sure if they overlapped.’
So on a walk up to Stoke Newington for bread and fabric, I looked for ‘Imperial.’ On a street called Victorian Road is a complex of flats that I immediately recognised as one of the Four Percent Industrial Dwellings that are still scattered around the east end of London.
And part way along, almost where the road becomes a much more modern housing estate, is a chained and padlocked gate. If you look through the bars, there is Imperial Avenue – like a row of mews houses – a hidden pocket of homes.
Imperial Avenue, seen through the bars of a sturdy modern gateA sad plaque
I was interested and, as always, my own neighbourhood had surprised me with something I hadn’t seen before. And ‘victorian rd, imperial ave and coronation road. I sense a theme,’ I told John.
Stoke Newington (aka Stokey) can be a grim area along the high street. It’s somehow escaped the gentrification of neighbouring Dalston. However, its age also brings some treasures and I’m very fond of things tour guide Eleanor Blum calls ‘ghosts.’ These are remnants of past times. Still partially there but not in keeping with today.
This ghost sign on Stoke Newington High Street was painted twice, one on top of the other
I often buy fresh burrata and newly baked ciabatta at Gallo Nero along the grubby high street. It’s not quite Italy but it’s packed with Italian goods.
