One day I will be tired of Brick Lane. Not yet, though.
On Friday, 31st January, we thought of walking down Hackney Road that day, taking the bus from Pembury Circus and wandering down – our eventual destination the cash and carry Bangla Town by Hanbury Street. From the bus, though, we noticed so much construction that the street suddenly seemed less walkable. It wasn’t roadworks but a number of new building sites in various stages of construction. What this means is the street art and curious buildings were disappearing.
So we stayed on the bus to Columbia Road.
New construction along Hackney RoadSome parts of Hackney Road are unchangedColumbia Road at Hackney Road
Perhaps another day I’ll brave Hackney Road again and see what’s left. That day opened my eyes to the increasing disappearance of the old, a microcosm – or not so micro – of London itself.
From Hackney Road we decided to walk over to Brick Lane by the back streets, taking note of all the changes and contrasts along the way.
New and old face each other in the Shoreditch back streetsQuiet Shoreditch is close enough to the bustle
From here, it was a less familiar view of Boundary Estate, from its easterly edge. Built as the nineteenth century merged into the twentieth, it’s stayed the same in appearance but not in its culture.
Boundary Estate is instantly recognisable – with its red brickStill Boundary Estate – looking towards Arnold Circus
Once past Boundary estate, it’s time to head over to Brick Lane. The streets here are mostly unchanged but there are signs of the future – construction sites and hoardings – and shops at the top, quiet, end of Brick Lane before you hit Bethnal Green Road are getting smarter. The hipsters are very firmly in place. How will it all look in ten, or even five, years?
Rhoda Street will be next to regenerateClose up of street art on Rhoda StreetThe lesser known top end of Brick Lane – very quietModern Bethnal Green Road at Brick LaneWay too busy at Brick Lane Beigel – the salt bagels were selling outFrom Brick Lane, regeneration is so closeOff Brick Lane
I may have said before that I’ve noticed a new phenomenon at Brick Lane. In most cities I’m familiar with, the ethnic ghettos are expanding. When I lived in North Beach, San Francisco, Chinatown was a short walk away. In more recent visits to North Beach, Chinatown has crept into its streets. In Toronto, Little India has started to creep along Gerrard Street so that you no longer have to go into its centre to find Indian culture. Brick Lane is changing in a different way – instead of exploding, it’s imploding. More and more non-Indian cafes and shops are opening, mingling with the Bengali and Bangladeshi businesses and threatening to overtake them.
What will happen next? When will the current residents move on, as the Huguenot, and then the Jewish immigrants have done? Where will they go? And will they be pushed out, priced out, or will they too climb out? Meanwhile, there’s still time to look around.
Cake on Brick Lane – encroaching on the curry houses todaySclater Street – demolition and hopeOne of Dan Kitchener’s geishas on Brick Lane – agingSticker art on Brick Lane
I had a plan for Tuesday. I had a doctor appointment and then five hours to spare. I wanted to go to one of the restaurants on my list – I thought perhaps Gloria, which is supposed to be a flamboyant Italian place, and from there on to Brick Lane to take some photos of new street art followed by picking up food for dinner – Krish’s favourite things. It didn’t go quite as expected.
After the doctor I jumped on the first bus that came along and then jumped off to get one that would take me where I needed to go. I chose the wrong second bus. One of these days I’ll get it right but I chose the one that turns off the main road and travels on other roads. All wasn’t lost. I jumped on a third bus and then off again when I thought I was close to where I needed to go.
No clue where I was. These new buildings are anonymous and hide the landmarks
Except I had no idea where I was. Heading down a side street to rescue my mission, nothing looked familiar. After a couple of turns, and no idea which direction I was travelling in – there have been times in London where I actually ended up back where I started, just one wrong turn. Never mind, Google would help me out.
Hey Google, I’m lost.
Uh oh. May I give you directions.
Where is Shoreditch High Street.
Turn left onto X street.
Google, there’s no X street, only Y street.
I’m sorry, I can’t help with that.
Hey Google, direct me to Rosa’s Thai Cafe.
Beginning directions to Rosey Cafe.
No, Google – (more carefully) Rosa’s Thai Cafe
Turn left onto A Street
Google, A Street isn’t here. I see B Street.
I’m sorry, I can’t help with that.
Ugh.
Oh just shut up, Google.
I resorted to old style ‘I’m lost,’ I told an older lady about to cross the street. ‘OK, where would you like to go?’ ‘Shoreditch High Street.’ ‘I don’t know…’ ‘Oh, OK, thank you.’ ‘But if you walk down there I think there’s a main road.’
I went ‘down there’ and thank goodness, Shoreditch High Street – only two short blocks away. How did she not know? I turned down Folgate Street, shocked at how much had been done since my Christmas visit, then across Commercial Street to find Rosa’s.
The top of Hanbury StreetInside Rosa’s
It wasn’t too packed and I got a seat easily. The menu didn’t grab me and I’m not a fan of red or green Thai curry but I was hungry and tired so I thought I’d try their pad thai. It was something I knew so could measure it against the others. Quite honestly, I didn’t like it. The noodles were too soft, the chicken had a stewed texture, and the flavour was very sweet. I remembered on Nadiya’s show how she’d been shocked at the sweetness of Thai food. So perhaps it’s ‘authentic.’ And no chopsticks! Only a fork and spoon. I managed the noodles, left a lot of the chicken and I was done.
Travelling into The City after my Somerset House exhibition had been an afterthought when the rain hijacked my other plans.
An everyday miracle happened when I reached my stop. I walked the correct way towards Leadenhall Market. I have a notoriously bad sense of direction and confusion and retracing is a big part of my explorations. When I’m alone I am mildly frustrated, when with others the confusion can become too large and panic-inducing. Today I nailed it, although at the very last minute I wondered if I’d overstepped Leadenhall. No, it was there!
Was it the rain, my mood, the cold or the reality of election day that dimmed the colour and atmosphere of the market? I’m not sure. The year before people had thronged the arcade, music was playing, the tree was magnificent and it felt like Old London had come alive. Although my photos show it quite well, I thought it oppressive, gloomy and I left quite soon after arriving.
Leadenhall Market, subdued
I still had a lot of time left before I had to meet Susanne. I decided that I’ll head to Spitalfields Market to see what Christmas looked like there.
The cheeriest sight so far – snack wagon by Spitalfields MarketA quite lovely sight – but where are all the people?There was a small crowd inside the new marketThe new market’s lights were Torino-esqueA few selfie lovers preceded meLooking out from the market – no crowd to be seenOutside – shiny and WET
I think I enjoyed things as much as I could in my cold and dampened state. It was good to be here and I tried to still the voice in my head that was telling me to head Susanne off and just go home. One foot in front of the other is always the other little voice in my head.
A year or two ago – when? – Carolyn and I went to the Dennis Severs candlelight at Christmas night. I loved it. I’d considered going again but decided against it. However, I did want to have a quick look at the door. It’s always on my must-see list when I’m showing people around. So I took a look, moved determinedly on and wended my way across Commercial Street towards Andina on Redchurch Street, where I’d meet Susanne.
A little detour – Dennis Severs House on Norton FolgateOff Commercial Street, a taste of urban art. I must head back on a better day
Under the railway arch at Shoreditch High Street Station – what is it that stirs me about these scenes?
East end Triptych
Bless Susanne for being there already when I arrived early. The restaurant was warm and dry and noisy. The food was good, not extraordinary, the drink was delicious. Chatting was just what I needed. We lingered and then we walked to a nearby hotel where more chat and a welcome pot of tea awaited.
This might not be Andina!And this dessert was Christmassy
I went to Liverpool. That city and I go back a way. I first went there as a starstruck Beatles fan. (And that’s a whole other story – of becoming a fan.) I wasn’t, as my parents suspected, going to see the Beatles though. I should have hated that city since on arrival my friend, also called Janice, had her backpack stolen with all her money. So now we had to share my money. (It’s also possible that it was I whose stuff was stolen and we shared her money – memories are odd like that.) I’ll save talking about my adventures for another time but I grew to love that city. I met a girl in the line up for the Cavern my first night there. Anne and I are still friends. And on subsequent visits I met another girl, Elsa. Elsa and I still speak often.
A few months ago, she contacted me to let me know she and her husband, Kenny, were having a fiftieth wedding anniversary at the Cavern. A few shaky days where I thought I couldn’t go and then suddenly the tickets and hotel were all booked.
We expected two days of rain but off we went. The journey was easy and the walk to the hotel fast. I wasn’t sure what to expect from our room but it turned out to be quite lovely. There was a large bed and bathroom and then down a step to a living room area. The hotel used to be part of the Bank of Wales building next door so there’s a masculine feel to everything but we were comfortable.
We wandered around a little, had a less-than-satisfying lunch, then back to the hotel before leaving for the Cavern. We were really close to it. If we went through an alley opposite the hotel we were actually right on Mathew street where the Cavern is. It’s like my feet lead me there. But it all looks so different and there are tourist things everywhere, statues of Beatles at street level and higher up on the buildings like angels or gargoyles looking down at the crowds.
It’s so clean there now, though. It used to be dirty and feel dangerous and you’d often see rats, even swarms of them, moving from warehouse cellar to warehouse cellar looking for food. No rats in sight now. I’d like to say it’s a cool area but it’s succumbed to tourists’ whims. Neon lights everywhere, souvenir shops, mediocre places to eat, tour groups…
The new Cavern is much bigger than the old/original, and the stairs are much less steep, going down several landings deep underground – this used to be just two turns of some very steep stairs and I’d always fear falling down them. In this new space, the first room you land in is the same as the original Cavern. a low-ceilinged, brick arched space with a side section for dancing. You could almost be back fifty years but this is a sanitised version.
The new Cavern Club, echoing the old. The centre area has the iconic stage and audience area and the area to the left looks the same but it’s for dancing. Beatles Tribute Bands play here.
It’s not raunchy, and the smell of disinfectant and scouse (the Liverpool stew that gives the people their name) is gone. Now there’s a smart bar and lots of neon, and posters everywhere, and framed photos of bands who played on the original stage. If you walk along the long bar you see an old red phone box. Keep going and you’re in the Live Lounge where Elsa and Kenny were having their party. Everyone knew about it – Elsa and Kenny’s bash? yeah down there, this way… My ears are immediately familiar with the accent, although Krish tells me he doesn’t understand everything and ‘Why do they want to talk like that?’ Hmm, they just do!
It’s damn loud in the lounge too. The ceilings are low and here it’s not brick anymore. There are lots of displays and memorabilia, and it’s set up like a cabaret – lots of low tables and benches and there were none left to sit on. The place was packed. It’s actually quite amusing to go to these things. Most people are my/Elsa’s age. They look like elderly people but they’re taking in the music and it’s like someone peeled the years away. Everyone knows everyone. There’s laughing, too much alcohol, and there’s mingling and catching up. There’s an elevated area with more seating and another bar, and the toilets – I like going down there towards the toilets since there are some amazing photos of the Beatles and my favourite one, of Brian Epstein. They all look so young. I looked at one of John Lennon and was totally surprised to re-realise he was only 40 when he died. He lived a lot of life in those forty years. And there’s a lovely one of George, my (and Elsa’s) favourite Beatle. Although she, of course, knew him and has personal memories and it’s so very sad.
My goal was to watch two acts – the Hideaways, who were my favourite Liverpool band, and Beryl Marsden who never quite became famous, although you’ll find her on YouTube, and who sings the great old Cavern faves.
A favourite moment – Elsa and Freda (Kelly, the Beatles Fan Club secretary) jiving (Cavern style) at the front soon after we arrived and Judd announcing, There’s two original Cavern girls right there! And so they are, although not quite original since the club would have opened when they were only ten. Nevertheless, I’m always impressed by Elsa’s energy. I give it a good go but…
Things were running late. After one song by the Hideaways Krish said he had to leave, that he couldn’t can’t handle the crowd and the noise and the standing – I understood and was prepared for this – but the second song came on, Judd’s harmonica (they call it a gob iron in Liverpool) came out and Krish stayed till their set came to an end. They are all old men now, with much less hair, much more body fat, and their faces aren’t recognizable, but if you listen to their music, it’s like the years fall away. It’s all standard Liverpool 60s fare – old blues, soul – and they are having fun with it. Judd is centre-stage, sloppily dressed, looking messy, rotund, and yet the women still seek him out – you can see them. After Krish left, I looked around. Freda didn’t seem to know me this time and I was OK with that. I had a few words with Kenny and a few more with Elsa and I stayed to watch Beryl. Her voice is still strong and confident and she sings her songs as she has for decades – I know (I know) you don’t love me no more…. you really have to shake yourself that it’s now, 2019, Beryl is looking a bit frail, with thinner hair and that jawline is gone, but she’s still Beryl.
I told Elsa I had to leave and she was shocked I would leave without watching Kenny’s band. Oh, you HAVE to stay to watch Kenny’s band at least. So I stayed for two songs but. after I left, I felt bad for not staying even though I’d been standing for hours, and my ears were starting to ring and echo a bit too much for comfort.
Elsa watching The Kirbys, Kenny’s Band
Krish and I had a rest and then set out for a restaurant he wanted to go to across town – 15 min walk. We had a lamb tajine which was quite lovely. The appetiser and dessert were mediocre. We almost always share a meal.
Mr Cenzone on Bold StreetThe old with the newLamb tajine (with dates stuffed with walnuts) at the Kasbah
Walking up to Bold Street is weird. It’s always been a nice area for eating. It’s on the way to the huge cathedral – the fifth-largest cathedral in the world and the longest. Liverpool outside the very centre and before you hit the near suburbs doesn’t seem that different, just cleaner. but the core of the city is gone. The streets are pedestrianised and, even though they’re lined with all the familiar franchise stores, they still have the same name. So you see the name of the street and there’s no recognition of what it was once. Those new streets have just appropriated the old names as if someone erased everything except the street signs. It feels odd. Bold Street is trendier and has a real road but it looks pretty much the same as it always has. There are mostly independent shops and places to eat.
A touch of Charles Rennie Mackintosh in LiverpoolMaggie May’s, famous for scouse. We had some there once and Krish hated it. It wasn’t such a good one!
There had been a big football match that day so the street and the side streets and cafes were packed with loud celebrating fans. They had the game on even in the Cavern – the music was punctuated with loud yells and celebration as the home team were winning. When we left the restaurant I’d meant to photograph the people having fun but the rain was steady and getting heavier. Continue reading “Liverpool, my old friend”
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!
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.
