Cultural Differences

Reading the excellent 'The Venomous Bead,'  I began to muse on the differences in 'culture' that have befallen my miserable existence.  It was in 1969 that I first encountered London life.  I had been in one or two norther English places, to visit or watch football, but London is a world apart from everywhere else.  The buses were different, poor quality, noisy 'Routemasters,' rough but eminently suitable for the job.  Edinburgh always prided itself on decent quality buses for the citizens.  People stood outside pubs in London, something never done back home, although weather may play a part in this.  The biggest shock was cricket!  I left the Leadenhall Market one midweek day while wending my way around the City and as I crossed the road I noticed a crowd gathered outside an office window.  In this window was a TV, set to face the road quite deliberately, and offering the Cricket Test Natch being played 'somewhere in England!'  I was amazed!  A crowd of 40 or more people were standing watching this event, with a City of London policeman ensuring a path  was clear for passersby!  Incredible!  Some of the men were actually standing in the gutter to watch cricket at lunchtime!  Goodness gracious!  Never would this happen in Edinburgh, unless a football match was being shown obviously, but cricket?  Don't be ridiculous.  When I began to work in North Finchley in 1975 again I was surprised to hear working men getting excited over cricket.  It would never happen among normal Scotsmen.

In '75 I settled after a rough month or so in Swiss Cottage, in a slum that I believe no longer exists, I think it may have fallen down.  I would look to the newsagent for news of Scottish football and be disappointed.  I could get papers from Egypt, France, Spain, even the USA but not from Scotland 400 miles up the road!  The radio, a small very cheap radio, offered London and national news, and later what was then the excellent World Service of the BBC, but little concerning Scottish affairs.  Had I learned several languages I could have been knowledgeable of world football everywhere but north of the border.  It was as if Scotland did not exist!  This has not changed.  

Getting the Routemaster to work showed me a different culture, and one that would not work up north.  There were two types of bus stop, a bus stop where buses stopped, and a 'request stop,' where you had to stick your hand out or they just passed by.  Edinburgh drivers then, and most likely now, can tell if you want the bus and stop for you.  The 6:09 bus, when driven and conducted by a regular able team, always came on time and did the job happily.  However on many occasions a wee black fellow was the conductor.  This driver would stop at all stops, irrespective of passengers or not, and wait until conductor pressed the bell.  Conductor, who never collected fares, merely stood and stared out the door.  Driver sat there awaiting the bell and refused to move until it rang.  Incredible!  I would be more 'assertive' today than I was then. 

I had spent a year between 1971-72 in Notting Hill and after returning north I found Edinburgh old and boring.  Shops opened at 9, closed at 12, reopened after lunch at 1 and closed at 5, in London I had a 24 hour shop around the corner!  When the Indians were chased out of West Africa by the Idi Amin's ( a King of Scotland apparently) and arrived in the city they changed it overnight for the better.  Shops opened at 8 am, and closed at 6!  What a revelation!  Some even    stayed open later and more, they stocked exotic fruits like peppers and eggplants.  Incredible to think so many things had only been found in the expensive shops if found at all.  

One culture that destroys Scotland is the hangover from Northern Ireland.  The sectarian divide between protestant and catholic, neither side seeking God of course, which lingers throughout the land but is very dominant in the west of Scotland.  Both sides are at fault and for most it makes no difference to their lives as whatever and whoever you are the treatment offered is the same.  However there are quite a few who relish the difference and would happily contribute to trouble if it arose.  The vile history of Rangers and Celtic, the 'Old Firm,' encourages such attitudes and only by removing the sectarian bias from both clubs can this ever be eradicated.  They decry this as that is the cause of their wealth, and anyway, isn't it all the other guys fault?  In England it is difficult to explain this divide to those who cannot understand it, and no wonder. 

The difference between two cities can be very wide,  Six miles from here is a similar sized town full of 'London overspill,' where vast numbers commute regularly down to the big city.  Their town has an 'London attitude,' while here we are all 'nice,' well usually.  Further north and the town there is much more rural and the thought that most of the locals are related is difficult to remove from the head.   That's country life for you I suppose.   This blog encompasses the world, and the cultures vary enormously, imagine if you will towns full of Yorkshiremen!  Just imagine that!  On second thoughts......

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Day Trip Anyone?

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Old Pump

The Aldgate Pump, pictured here in 1880 surrounded by local worthies, still stands on this spot!  The pump marks the official beginning of the 'East End.'  It is found at the junction of Aldgate and Fenchurch/Leadenhall Streets.  There is a report of a pump around here in the days of King John back in the twelve hundreds, streams were near by so it is likely, and this pump, dating from the late eighteenth century, was itself was re-erected on this spot in 1876 when London's growth led to the streets being widened.  Pollution of the water occurred around this time when calcium leaked from the bones of the dead buried in new cemeteries to the north of the City and filtered into the stream which fed the pump. It is said several hundred people died because of this.  However some years later Whittards, the tea people, claimed to always have kettles filled here so they could use the 'purest water.'  It is important to know your local History!  Mains water replaced the stream when the pollution was discovered. The spout is a small brass wolf's head seen on the front of the Portland stone pump, this represents the last wolf shot in London.  This replaced the stone spout sometime before the Great War.  I think there are still wolves in the City of London myself. There appears to be some dispute as to when the water was turned off as the pump is no longer in use.

Situated in the City of London, surrounded still by heavy traffic, the pump is ignored by the masses who pass by each day, London after all has vast numbers of historical artifacts in every direction. Few if any would know the story of the pump, many might not know who King John was, although they might listen if someone claims to have found his lost treasure, and I doubt many temporary locals care as they pass by these days.  We live within our lives and immediate troubles don't we.  At one time the real locals, who actually lived here unlike the million or so employed in the area today, depended on this pump.  Like so many others throughout the nation a pump was the only water supply.  Any fouling of the water therefore caused great suffering to many, and usually this meant the poorest and least able to help themselves.  Many village pumps remain in this area, some well maintained and on public view, others found lurking in peoples gardens.  Our purified water today comes through the tap, however fussy folks can buy a variety of bottled waters, I never see a jogger without the magic bottle for instance, it is almost a fashion item with some, and working pumps or water fountains are rarely seen today.    

  

Historic UK

Spitalfields Life

Wiki

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The Grove

Westbourne Grove London, in the 1880's.  At this time the Grove was the place to be, just look at the Brougham's and Hansom's outside Whitley's shop.  Whitely was a man who knew how to bring in the customers.  Very much influenced by the Great Exhibition of 1851 Whitley was determined to open a store providing goods from across the globe, and make a name, and money, for himself.  He succeeded!  His personality did however bring problems, seven times his stores were burnt down, and while he left behind a very smart building around the corner from this photograph he himself was shot dead in the building shown.  A young man believed Whitley had used his mother and he was the result!  In some degree of anger at the store owners attitude to his mother he took it upon himself to converse with the man he believed to be his father, took out a pistol and shot him dead.  Sadly he was mistaken, sadly he was also sadly hanged.  I suspect however more people felt sympathy for the gunman than for Whitley!

This was the place to be seen in London.  Not far off lay Kensington gardens and Hyde Park.  There folks would promenade just to be seen.  Royalty and the people that mattered might pass by, or rub shoulders in these very shops, common types were not required.  The houses nearby were very much the 'Upstairs Downstairs' type.  many a butler or footman would be employed in the large dwellings, servants occasionally being allowed out to see the sky above, and the sumptuous flats would enjoy possession by London's elite.  Shops remained open until late in the evening, indeed this was common throughout the land I believe, and assistants were housed, and strictly controlled in employers dwellings.  Their conditions were poor, as were the wages, the hours long.  A 'Punch' cartoon shows a shop owner grumbling at an assistant because a lady left without buying.  'We had nothing she wanted' says the lass. The owner informs the assistant she is there to 'Sell what I stock, not what she wants!'  Typical of the service of the day, which we are told constantly was better than now. I see little change myself.

  

I spent many years in this area, not as a butler or during the heyday of wealth.  Somewhat rundown and ill treated the area has however been popular with the trend setters of the day.  While I lived in a small flat, paying a cheap rent and being told 'It's cheap,' whenever a roof was requested, today the flats have all been modernised to a very high standard.  They have to be, the cost of a small one bedroom apartment ranges from half a million to almost a million!  Rich trendy pop folks, media people, and country dwellers looking for a 'townhouse' fill the gap left by derelicts like myself.  Not sure if I can afford to return..... 

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Underground Heritage

London Underground History

Jenny's excellent post regarding her outing along an old London Underground (but overground) disused line brought to mind the websites devoted to disused stations.  These stations are historical masterpieces, well sometimes, and always interesting to inspect.  Many overground lines have been turned into pathways much used for leisure purposes while some, if the remain recognisable, are derelict and much vandalised.  Two very good site on the underground are :

London Underground History

and

London's Abandoned Tube Stations

British Railways lost most of their stations and rural lines in the early sixties.  This means the vast rail network left behind a vast network of pathways, many now developed for leisure use, and ageing station buildings.  For some years rail enthusiasts, often called 'anoraks' round here, have photographed such places. These also are fascinating, especially for the nostalgic who once used them when steam was king!  Obviously only me then......

Check this out:

Disused Stations

and

Urban 75: Railways

You may also be sad enough, like me, to enjoy this:

Derelict London

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1890

London 1890.  There is not much difference between the traffic then and the traffic now.  People meander across the road in a similar manner today, although there is not quite so much room in between vehicles.  The machines today are of course faster but a horse and cart was just as deadly.  In fact a man who;s name escapes me obtained permission to erect a traffic island in the middle of one road in an effort to make crossing safer.  When it was complete he was so excited he ran across to it and was killed by traffic!  You will note the police still question suspects, buses make up their own rules, and men stand around being important.  Women are to be found there but most will be elsewhere, in the shopping districts!

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St Paul's

Henry Dawson painted this view of St Paul's high above the Thames in 1877.  The river is full of craft of various types. Behind the artist many large ships would be unloading, lighters would be transferring goods from ship to shore, and I suspect that even at that late date some 'taxi' boat still crossed the river in places, not all bridges having been built by then I guess.  I say 'guess as I am to lazy busy to check for myself.  Until the early sixties when the dockers lost out to cheaper, more profitable, and less likely to be pilfered container ships the Thames was a busy, dirty river.  Today a few barges pass by, the tourist boats rip off the clients, and some private craft are seen.  The warehouses are trendy flats, office blocks avoid taxpaying as much as possible and the view of St Paul's is still possible, if you find the few places where a gap in the building reaching for the sky allows this. Dawsons view is better than today's, but the lifestyle of the people, as well as their health thanks to the NHS must be considerably better!    


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The Bike

The sun was shining, the sky was blue, so this afternoon, once I had worked up the courage, I got out onto the bike for the first time in two months.  I had decided yesterday that another exercise period was required, so this morning I attempted just that and in the afternoon I jumped on the rusting old bike and pedaled around for twenty minutes. The sun may have been shining but the wind was coming from the east, via Siberia, so while my genteel hands were warm and cosy in the gloves my face took an instant dislike to being frozen.  Once home I walked around the town continuing to being frozen but the only way to avoid the knees freezing up also!


This little trip made me wonder how, in 1974, I had managed to cycle from Edinburgh to London!  I had the idea that this would be a cheap holiday so I decided to by a bike!  Now remember that I had not ridden a bike for about ten years yet I searched the papers and found one on sale for £18!  I made my way to the south east of the city and bought a bike from a man who told me that the owner had, "Gone to Australia."  I found myself wondering in he knew he had emigrated.  However I got on the bike, somewhat shakily, and suddenly remembered I had miles to go through Edinburgh streets.  I cannot recall the journey but I suspect it was not straight forward.  A few weeks later I set off on my journey.  Today, having developed the brain a bit better, I would spend six months training for this venture, checking the food I ate, stocking up on carbohydrates and the like.  Then I just jumped on the bike, a packet of sandwiches and a few bags of raisins and nuts or some such, and discovered this was not going to be as easy as I thought.  Cycling to work was one thing, cycling with packs on the bike another, and it rained!


It tool me two hours to be clear of Edinburgh as I wandered through Leith and Musselburgh heading for the A1 and the road south.  It did not take the rest of the week to make me realise I was a clown!  Cycling the back roads of the A1 was pleasant to look at, but the up and down nature of the roads got very wearing, especially as old men on ancient bikes swept past me contemptuously.  Averaging fifty miles a day (today about three!) I made it in a week.  I stopped at a couple of Youth Hostels for the first two nights and was not impressed, so stayed in a couple of pubs and a couple of boarding houses after this.  The locals were friendly and while they considered me an idiot they managed not to do this to my face.  I don't know why, I agreed with them!  Had I been making a telly programme about this I would find adventures, women, excitement, women, crimes, women, rich rewards, women, interesting places full of the rich with women, but as it was just me I merely took a fifty mile shortcut that took me a mere ten miles further on one day, and no women!  The wind, naturally, was constantly against me, the rain knew where I was, I discovered that 'Mild' was acceptable beer, that 15th century pubs bedrooms floors sank in the middle, and that when you pass the Hartlepool United Football Club doorway you are miles of course. I intended to ride through York but took the wrong road and went around it and couldn't be bothered to go back, I stopped to take a picture of the lovely pink sunset over the 'Selby Oil & Cake Works,' forgetting the 'Instamatic' had a Black & White film inside,  and that road signs saying 'Village 1 mile,' are followed at 30 yards by another claiming 'Village 1/2 mile.'  


I suppose it was worth it but how I did it I do not know.  The bike was sent back via a carrier, and took 8 days to arrive, and I returned by train!  No fool me.  Had I the energy would I do this again? Yes, but with a bit more planning this time, and a car as back up!  I used the bike a lot in those days, for work and pleasure.  I cycled over the Forth Bridge and back via Kincardine, up into the lower Pentlands, struggling up the slope, and racing back as Edinburgh slopes down to the Forth so I got home a lot quicker than I went out! The only problem with the bike was that twice the tyre exploded in the middle of the night while at home!  We never worked that one out.  The 'Sun' racer was a good bike for me, but I prefer my present ageing one I must admit.  Maybe I had better try another trip tomorrow as they claim snow is on the way.  Hopefully it will remain in Scotland, where it belongs!

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Saturday

Fleet Street 1899. How little has changed!  

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Army Cuts

I must say the cuts in the British Army do go quite deep. While we are dragged into Afghanistan to fight Americas wars for them I suggest they ought to be paying for the equipment used there. Look closely and see just what 'our boys' are being forced to 'make do' with against a force armed with rocket propelled grenades and Kalashnikovs! It's a disgrace!



I came across Radio Set the other day. It plays Gregorian Chant 24 hours a day, daily.
Gregorian Chant is, and I quote their blurb :-

"Plainsong with melodic contours which are closely tied to the spoken rhythms and inflections of the text. Introduced in the liturgy by pope Gregory I (540-604), this strictly calm and soothing music spread throughout Europe having today hundreds of melodies known."

Calming, enjoyable, emotive and well worth a listen, if those around you will hold their wheesht!
Click this link RADIO SET and enjoy!

(One point, it is VERY slow to load, and there are long Radio 3 type pauses in between tracks.)



Have I posted this before? Taken from south of the Thames some years ago, heading out east through what once were bustling dockyards full of poorly paid dockers nicking everything they could get their hands on! My first job at the whisky bond in Leith brought me in contact with lorry drivers who often took our whisky to these docks for expert. Men used to the rough side of the docks yet few of them enjoyed a trip here. Glasgow, and worse Liverpool were bad, but they disliked London docks greatly. Today however the ex dockers speak of it as if this place was somewhat romantic! Indeed the pay and conditions were poor, but the people were no saints!

This pic was taken in a refurbished area and the sculpted cat caught my eye. This is art I thought, but this will win few prizes! Mind you, some lout has probably broken it and chucked it in the water by now!

Sculpture on Buildings

I took this pic of a small sculpture above a doorway near the Thames, not far from Waterloo station. The building stands amidst the wreckage of appalling buildings erected in the aftermath of the second world war. Bring back the Luftwaffe to finish the job I found myself thinking! However this one stands on the corner of Lambeth High Street. Old people (Yes I mean you!) will remember the famous song 'Doing the Lambeth Walk' which was popular in the late thirties. You could try it today, but not at night as you may well be knifed! I have a pic of the building itself, which while useful, does not help me understand what the sculpture (would you call this a frieze I wonder) actually represents. Enlarged there appears to be a great many earthenware urns and vases around. Several men are discussing them and one woman is seen painting one. Only one man is working, at least he is moving away from the work, and he is the only male with no beard, just whiskers and a moustache! A pottery empire perhaps? Or an empire that has gone to pot?


Fantastic Victorian over the top architecture, totally at odds with today's architects, most of whom have been brought up on Lego bricks it seems to me! The colours of the bricks don't show obviously but they stand out just as well in black & white. Whether the inside is workable is another thing, and I suspect in the late Victorian day the inside was dark brown or even darker green! Just imagine the poor facilities, the male dominated (as it should be) workforce dressed in waistcoats and jackets, with high collars and always wearing a hat and beard when they wandered around outside, pipe in mouth. When you think of it, if it were pottery then many would be cheap labour females! The men (naturally) being in charge!

How times change. Today the materials are better, stronger, long lasting, but tatty. Any of the blocks of flats nearby will be functional and efficient, although dated 1940/50's in design, but better than the buildings destroyed by the Germans however. The old blocks would have looked solid enough, and probably attractive brick like the kind shown here, even if not so elaborate. However they would have been slums by 1939 and the people benefited greatly after the war from the new buildings. Shame so many are awful now! Partly the design but mostly the inhabitants to blame for that!



While we are on, here is one from the south east, just of Tooley Street. A slim, somewhat run down building, once the home of 'Harding and Sons, Hardware Merchants,' Japanners. I did come across their history somewhere, but lost it! Efficiency is my middle name. I am not sure if the building was built at a slant, is falling over, or whether I was standing on someone at the time, but it looks squeegee to me. One thing for sure, when I lived in London there was a greater incentive to go out with the camera. In this small town most pictures are found quickly. However in the area I once lived I note a one bedroom flat, two doors from my old slum, was recently sold. The asking price £499,000. I think this a bit much for me......