We wanted to walk around Whitechapel again. The area is very dense and has some heavy contrasts. Here I’ll give a warning: There are many, many photos and I did this walk two weeks ago. I no longer remember where each part belongs or what I was thinking about when I took the photos. I may have to juggle things about but I know I won’t get it completely right.
What matters, though, is that our walk took us through the older areas of Spitalfields, through some parts of Whitechapel that my grandparents – and even my parents – would have a hard time believing, and into some areas where the stark, modern lines struck a strong contrast with the old, sometimes converted, warehouses and factories.
To me, it was a typical Whitechapel adventure, where anything was possible, where the past and present cooperate and compete, and where the future can only be imagined. There’s a little bit of history, but not too much or my brain will hurt, and as much everyday thinking as I can muster along the way.
Finally, we got to Whitechapel High Street, at Aldgate East Station. The scenery changes dramatically.
I’ve been reading other people’s blogs, You know, the ones everybody reads…and I’ve been surprised at how many public-facing people, even celebrities, are confessing to feeling desperate or depressed. I like this pouring out of souls. It’s not just that I feel less alone and hopeless, but that I feel a connection with myself.
I’ve been blogging quite a bit lately, after a fairly long silence. I think it’s because of this connection with myself and my environment. It’s because I felt that, rather than feel imprisoned, I would reach outwards to what is achievable, and then inwards to what I can bring to it. I told Krish last week that I spent one to two hours going on walks to find local things, but that blogging about it afterwards took three or four hours. It enhances my experience. He asked me if this meant that I needed to walk in order to do my blog. I think he was getting at me walking more. No, it’s not that. It is what it is. I can blog about anything. The walking is a means to an end and, as an agoraphobic, that’s important. Walking for the sake of walking is more difficult. The goal of photographing, researching onsite and off, writing later – all of these motivate me. And lately, lethargy and inertia are always threatening to pull me in.
Researching isn’t easy for me. I am impatient. I gather the facts and they overwhelm me. What to choose, what to leave out, and essentially for me, how to write it so that it’s friendly and easily understood. It’d be easy to not bother embroidering my writing about things, places, and people without any background information. Going on guided tours has taught me that knowing a little can enhance. Sitting on my couch right now, thinking about this house, I’d love to know who lived here before, who lived here first – who were they, what were they like, why were they here, what did they do, who was the first…? Krish says that doesn’t matter to him. I’m not sure he means it.
So I have a few blogs in hand. There are bits and pieces of things. There are photos that were left over, areas that weren’t quite completed, photos that belong to little walks that aren’t worth a whole blog. Then there are things around the flat that would be good to talk about. Add all of these to my To Do lists and there’s plenty to keep me occupied, if not delighted.
So here’s a start – Well Street.
On the day we went to Fassett Square and the German Hospital, we took a bus on Graham Road over to Well Street. Originally we were going just to Lidl for some oil and chocolate but Krish decided – unsurprisingly, that he couldn’t resist some cod bites at Well Street Fish and Chips.
Well Street is a meandering road with one end at Morning Lane and the other on Mare Street – a good curve. We started at the point where it turns down into a small high street towards Morning Lane.
Well Street is in South Hackney, just  4.2 miles (6.8 km) northeast of Trafalgar Square (the recognised milestone of London when marking distance). There are records from the 1400s but nothing about a well, although the words like Water and Shore feature even today. Well Street also had a moated ‘Pilgrim’s House.’ There was a small settlement at first, and with a poorer population from the 1700s. By 1831 the whole of Well Street had houses and was quite prosperous, wth shopping and light industry including rope-making, boot-making, and leather working. A cinema arrived in 1913, the South Hackney Picture Palace, and by 1932 there were two housing estate, with two more following after WW2. Well Street has had many prominent residents and characters – Celia Fiennes the traveller and diarist in the 18th century (yes, she is an ancestor of Ralph Fiennes), and Jack Cohen the founder of Tesco who started off trading in Well Street Market. Continue reading “Odds and ends and reflections on blogging – Well Street”
Considering my goal to explore what’s close to me, I made a list of possible walks and places to see within a kilometre or two. When Krish asked me if I wanted to go on a walk, I told him I’d been wanting to revisit the German Hospital and Fassett Square.
They are actually really close by and have always been some of my favourite things in my part of this borough. So off we went.
There’s a lot of complicated history to the German Hospital. It was founded in 1845 primarily to treat poor German-speaking immigrants in the East End. The Hospital occupied three houses converted from the Dalston Infant Orphan Asylum, and had 12 beds. When the North London railway came through the area, the hospital and its garden were separated so the governors built a new building in the garden. It opened in 1864. It now had 100 beds. By 1890 there were 142 beds, a new Sisters’ House was added in 1911 and a third block in 1912.
The nursing care provided by the Protestant Deaconesses inspired Florence Nightingale to visit the German Hospital twice before enrolling for three months’ training at the parent Institute for Protestant Deaconesses in Kaiserwerth, Germany.
The two world wars made things more complex for the institution. During WW1 there were strong anti-German feelings while the staff remained there. In 1931 the hospital had 161 beds and a new wing was built (now Bruno House) for maternity and children’s wards. This brought the bed total to 192. During WW2 things got more serious. Dr Otto Bernhard Bode, the head of the hospital in the 1930s, was a member of the Nazi party. All the German staff were arrested and interned as enemy aliens. English staff now took over.
After the war, in 1948 the NHS took over. There were now 217 beds. From 1974, it became a psychiatric and psychogeriatric Hospital, closing in 1987 when all of its services moved to Homerton Hospital.
The Grade II listed buildings were developed by Landmark Housing as affordable housing for those who earn less than £22,000 a year. I’ll take one!
I hope you like it as much as I do.
Just beyond the church is the former Hamburg Lutheran Church, now the Faith Tabernacle Church of God. It was built in 1876 in the German Gothic style and used by both staff and patients. The minister at the outbreak of WW2 was Revd. Schonberg, a fervent Nazi, who fled the country in 1939. It’s quite a lovely church.
Remember my agoraphobia? Well, I did yesterday. Going out is difficult some days but I try to keep in mind that not going out is just as difficult since it leads to not wanting to go out. And then your body develops all sorts of nasty anxiety symptoms anticipating or attempting it, which results in not wanting to do it again. It’s a vicious cycle. Most of the time I go by the 50-50 rule. If it’s just as likely I’ll have a positive outing as it is that I’ll have an negative one, I will go with the 50% positive option. Why not?
That’s what Thursday was like. For one thing it was a little stormy inside the flat, and for another it was the sixth anniversary of my dad’s death. I was feeling down but out I went – going with the 50% positive rule.
My plan was to look around Clarence Road, a major site for the riots in 2011, and then loop into Clapton Square, out again to get a few groceries and home. This is a short excursion and I didn’t do terribly but, well, see for yourself.
And yay, there are some curved streets. I just didn’t get to explore them all.
Before I left the flat I decided to do a bit of research into Clarence Road and was surprised to find very little online. What I did find was many records of the riots and reports of stabbings. This was all I could find: Back Lane (a forerunner of Clarence Road), a short cut from Church Street to the heart of Clapton village by the pond. As a back lane, it doesn’t merit much mention. It’s still a nice shortcut and one I tend to forget – the cut-throughs and short cuts from Upper and Lower Clapton Road, if I can just remember which turning to take.
There are some interesting things along Clarence Road, though. It borders Pembury Estate and is often quite lively (pre-pandemic) with a record store, corner shops, a few cafes, and not quite yet trendy.
It’s well worth remembering the riots now. Sitting in our flat just a very short walk away, we were unaware how much havoc and damage was happening on Clarence Road. Once it was cleared and the shops and homes recovered, the street seemed to take a turn for the better. People wanted to support each other, to clean up, to move on, to show the world they were not hooligans.
It was much warmer out than I’d anticipated. I’d caved and bought a bottle of water but the sun was full and there was little shade. I don’t do well in the heat. I was determined to go over to Clapton Square and take photos of the notable houses but my resolve was flagging.
I did my best and it really wasn’t good enough but here goes.
Clapton Square is a quiet, grand area in this eclectic neighbourhood. It was laid out in 1816 in the fields of the manor of Hackney. Two sides of the square are lined with tall, partly stone-dressed, classical, Georgian terraced houses. The central gardens have a finely restored drinking fountain donated in 1894. But confession, I have never gone in. There are always far too many drunken people laying about in there so I need to find another brave soul to go in with. Apparently, the wall and iron railings are original – with apologies for no close-ups this time.
Sadly, by this time I was starting to feel unwell. I’d drank most of my water, but I was now feeling very nauseated and concerned about getting home. My carefully planned house by house exploration was evaporating and I needed instead to find some shade and another cold drink.
I wandered out of Clapton Square, with St John of Hackney directly across from me. A quick visit to the Sainsbury Local and some cool, quiet air. On my way to the bus I went past Flynn’s pub and thought about the heavy contrasts I’d seen on my walk.
A little PS from Wikipedia. Seems I wasn’t the only one that fancies living or spending time in Clapton Square:
19th century Jewish writer Grace Aguilar lived in the Square. Russian revolutionary Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov (Lenin) visited, around 1905, his friend Theodore Rothstein who resided in the square.
Clarence Place
Resident and eminent scientist Joseph Priestley, a fellow of the Royal Society wrote:
On the whole I spent my life more happily at Hackney than I had ever done before
He lived at the house (demolished in 1880) on the corner of the Passage and Lower Clapton Road, in the 1790s. A mob had hounded him out of his house and laboratory in Birmingham who opposed his support for the French Revolution. He was invited to come to Hackney to take up the post of Unitarian Minister at the Old Gravel Pit Chapel where he had many friends amongst the Hackney Dissenters. A plaque marks the site of his house above the existing corner building in Lower Clapton Road. He emigrated to America in 1794 fearing a repeat of his family’s persecution.
In a cottage behind Priestley’s house, in the closing years of the 18th century, lived a Huguenot widow, Louisa Perina Courtauld, a designer of gold plate who married a silversmith. Their son, Samuel Courtauld (junior), founded the Courtauld dynasty of silk and artificial fibre manufacturers and a descendant founded the Courtauld Institute now in Somerset House.
5 Clapton Square – home of Thomas Briggs, chief clerk of Robarts, Curtis Bank, Britain’s first railway murder victim on 9 July 1864 (Mr Briggs Hat, Kate ​Colquhoun, ISBN 9780349123592 2011) (​“On 9 July 1864, businessman Thomas Briggs walked into carriage 69 on the 9.45 Hackney-bound train. A few minutes later, two bank clerks entered the carriage – but as they sat down, one of them noticed blood pooled in the seat cushions and smeared on the walls. But there was no sign of Thomas Briggs.”) You’ll have to read the book for the rest.
I’ve been promising myself for some time that I’d walk along Shacklewell Lane with my camera. The heat put paid to that idea last week but now it’s cooler so off I went. I’d waited for the rain to let up before I left the house but there were at least three showers while I was out, sometimes heavy.
Walking along Amhurst Road today there were signs of Summer ending. I was admiring the houses and the nice curve the street makes in either direction.
It feels like we live in a scruffier part of Amhurst Road – although not as scruffy as the piece from Dalston Lane over to Mare Street! I say this because some of the houses, architecturally the same, further up the road are set back a bit more and are better taken care of.
During my walk, I was intrigued by the forks in the road. More than junctions, there are often three directions. At the junction of Shacklewell Lane, Amhurst Road keeps going up to Kingsland Road, to your left is Shacklewell Lane, also meeting Kingsland Road at a more westerly point, and to the right, Shacklewell Lane becomes Rectory Road towards Stoke Newington Common.