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.
A wildly inaccurate map of where we walkedWe hadn’t taken the Overground since lockdown. The new trains were operating, the carriages were quiet and masks weren’t always apparent. It’s less than ten minutes from Hackney Downs to Liverpool Street Station
Keeping a safe distance and staying where you need to be, at Liverpool Street StationIt’s rare to see Liverpool Street Station so quiet on a weekdayVenturing into Spitalfields. The building sign says 1682. It’s Ottolenghi at Artillery Passage and it had been closed temporarily for weeks
From Middlesex Street, the old and the new. Middlesex Street is the main road for Petticoat LaneI didn’t photograph street art on this walk.This is an oldie but goodie
Toynbee Hall, built in 1886 to serve the poor of London’s East EndThe Old Streets of Tenter Ground. Built by the Flemish weavers, the Huguenots who fled Belgium in the 17th century. Here, newly woven cloth was stretched taut to flatten on an open field. When the Huguenots left, housing was developed in 1829 and the Dutch Jews (The Chut) moved into the area
The Soup Kitchen for the Jewish Poor, Brune Street, (5662 -1902)London County Council Holland estate built between 1927–1936.Houses where some of my ancestors lived are now finally gone. They were appallingly decrepit for years, a real eyesore. Now they’re gone, I feel quite sad
Finally, we got to Whitechapel High Street, at Aldgate East Station. The scenery changes dramatically.
On Sunday morning, Krish brought up the idea of getting on a bus and going somewhere. He said maybe it would be quiet on the buses and we could wander around The City on a peaceful day. The City is dead out of office hours as a rule but surely now it would be even deader. I thought about it for a little while and then said yes, let’s go.
We took the 242, which goes along Kingsland Road, then turns down Commercial Street at Shoreditch High Street Station. We sailed past a very splendid new Dan Kitchener geisha art piece but stayed on until we went one more stop, where the crowd – if there is one – will have dissipated. And out we got.
We walked back a little bit to Christ Church, where I’d seen a cattle trough. I’ve taken lots of photos of the church but this time it was the trough and drinking fountain that caught my eye. The church itself was the first of three that Hawksmoor built between 1714-1729 and for me, it’s the landmark that dominates the area.
The trough and fountain are lovely. They were put there by the Metropolitan Drinking Fountain and Cattle Trough Association, set up in London during the 19th century to provide free drinking water.
A drinking fountain and cattle trough installed by the Metropolitan Cattle Trough and Drinking Fountain Association outside Christ Church, SpitalfieldsThere aren’t so many red phone boxes left and most have no phones inside or are used by the homeless. This one is pretty derelictArt at Christ Church, Spitalfields. These two have been here a long time undisturbed
We decided to get off the main street to head towards The Gherkin. I’ve walked along Toynbee Street many times but never past Middlesex Street. We saw very few people, but there were a few stalls set up at the top near Commercial Street.
On the old and crumbling street, Mambow restaurant was a very pretty sightPast Middlesex Street, Toynbee Street becomes Old Castle Street and the new is crowding out the Old. Along here are some buildings belonging to the London Metropolitan University
I had somehow never seen the facade of these old wash houses. They were originally Whitechapel Public Baths, built in the 1850s, and now housing the Frederick Parker Collection
Things can seem dire at times. Lockdown was eased up. Twice. Yet infections are rising. I get confused, decide they do what they want and it’s probably all arbitrary, but there’s nothing to do but follow my instincts and hope for the best. My instincts tell me to stay close to or at home whenever possible. No reason to do otherwise most of the time really. A few times, though, I have ventured out. Last week I even went outside of Hackney for the first time.
There doesn’t seem a lot to say either, since days blur into each other in terms of what I do and manage to achieve. However, I’m still taking photos and these remind me that life isn’t just one big Same Old Same Old after all. So let’s see where the photos take us.
This rare Victorian post (pillar) box is one of two in Stoke Newington. Stoke Newington is home to two rare hexagonal “Penfold” pillar boxes, which are Grade II listed. They are named after its designer John Wornham Penfold, and installed between 1866 and 1878. We found it on a longer walk than I’d planned back in the last days of June. While my legs weren’t happy, it was lovely to see some things I may have seen before but forgotten about.
I liked the lettering on this house near the pillar box. I need someone to translate it for me, though.I spotted some capers in this little shop and cafe. I also saw some great looking bread so I queued and got both.I’ve meant to look into this, but the truth is that I have nowhere to plant the seeds. I love wildflowers and the idea of bees and beehives and honey, despite my fear of being stungI’m always attracted to shops that do things like this. I think I’d like to this eclectic, this quirky, this surprisingButterfield Green, small and hidden away in the back streets of Stoke NewingtonI like these houses on Church Walk, the pedestrian way with no homes opposite. It makes it feel like a secretWe found allotments behind an iron barred fence. I’ve always wanted one but doubt I could manage it any more. I’d go for a rooftop terrace with some lovely planters full of herbs, some vegetables, and flowers. Happy!Choudhury is apparently a prolific Thai restaurateur and chef. I have yet to find out who Paulo Remedios isThere are never any words for stories like this. Tragic pandemic loss of life and a beloved old cobbler shop at Newington GreenThe Newington Green cobbler shop where Kamil Ahmet and his son, Ahmet Kamil, worked. They were both victims of Covid-19. The cobblers is in the oldest surviving terraced houses in London. Built in 1658, they are at 52-55 Newington Green
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.
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 brightThe old emergency dental clinic at the Royal London – I went once and it was archaic and darkLooking past the corner of the old dental clinic, you can see the many blue towers of the new Royal LondonOne of the remaining old buildings of the RLH – still in useFrom the orthodontics clinic window – a long queue for one of the old buildings
