Thursday 11 August 2016

Study


Once the hordes of kids and mums and grandparents and kids had passed by allowing me a few moments to myself I spent time relaxing by looking at an old map.  Being of twisted mentality I find comparing the view of the old map to the present very interesting.  
The map I was looking at, not the one pictured above, was first drawn in 1887, revised in 1919 and again in 1921.  Considerable changes have taken place since then and it is riveting to one such as I to see how things change.  For a start many street names make sense, farms that once stood in prominent positions, allowing cows to wander along the roads, have long since been replaced by 1950's housing development.  These today offer good homes to many even though some are often raided by the drug seeking police.  Good homes do not, in spite of quasi socialist idealism change people, only Jesus can do that and it is far from easy as you know.  Most folks are satisfied however, especially those who bought them cheap from grasping Thatcher!
Once busy industry takes up a huge amount of space in this map, now also replaced by housing of one sort or another.  Thousands of men and during the two wars thousands of women worked happily for these companies, companies which cared for their workers in a manner far ahead of their time.  Had mine owners and major industry treated workers as well in the past two hundred years much strife would have been avoided and the far left may never have existed in the UK.  Now all have gone, foreign imports after WW2 brought much of this to an end and only a smattering of such a long industry remains spread far and wide.
Also noticeable are the marked public houses, the vast majority now closed, the many churches most of which remain in place, and public buildings once of great importance now masquerading as Chinese restaurants or other purposes.  
In a great many peoples eyes the town has gone downhill, 'it aint what it was,' is the cry from a great many of a certain age, the idea being that life back then was better.  However if you suggest dumping their mobile phones, computers, fancy televisions, central heating, big cars and vast amount of clobber that fills the house they all change their minds.  Of course looking at photographs of the past many also claim that 'life was better then, much slower and less hassle,' however this is untrue.  While slower that meant working longer hours, often slogging hard for those hours, doffing caps to the upper class, having no NHS, no sick pay, no unemployment benefit but a great deal of unemployment, hassle from bosses and smart folks, and a great many problems similar to today's.  
Many people pictured in those photographs can be heard saying 'It was better in the old days...'
Right, go find a map!


  

Wednesday 10 August 2016

Rubble Trouble


It didn't take long to sort that lot out.  Just the flooring to go and judging by the noise at teatime I suspect that has been more or less lifted also.  In theory the archeological people are now meant to go over the ground in the hope of finding something interesting.  However this part of town has been farmland until the 1800's as far as is known so while there is hope I doubt much will be found in this ground.  If I see them searching I will make sure the museum gets whatever is recovered, not however if it is just stones!  
People here do find things in their gardens.  Iron Age, Roman, Saxon settlements were here and much has gone on since then so it is inevitable things turn up often.  Most once inhabited areas today are either built over or were farmland for about four thousand years, not much hope of the recover of things in those conditions, but the town is always eager to find something!  One day that gold coin hoard will arrive, one day.

What has arrived are new neighbours!  here I am, feeling weary and suffering from something and two young lads, gay boys it appears, are moving in next door.  I am not pleased!  The last thing this building requires is young folks, their noise and disgusting habits.  We old folks prefer our own.  It is at times like this I remember the noise from next door, downstairs, upstairs, round the back and over there, that was London life.  How silent life has been this last year or two with the considerate neighbours, especially the ones in that flat who were never there, that's considerate!  However when people move in I wish to move to that house on an island that is cut off from the mainland by two tides a day.  I suspect that would suit me although no doubt some Essex man would still attempt to land there to annoy me, are shotguns allowed?  The occasional hassles with folks in the past always makes me nervous of newcomers.  For years most of us have got on quite well and new folks always cause problems, sometimes unintentionally and occasionally deliberately.  The good Lord tells me to love them, that is treat them with consideration but I was not in that mood when they appeared today.  Ah well, it will all work for good in the end.  I'm just glad my life is so good at the moment and this disturbs me a wee bit.  It will be OK but we wait on the Lord as we piously say and hope he hears and does things our way and not his, something he is want to do!
Young folks, bah!  

Work tomorrow and the even younger folks are supposedly playing Harry Potters 'Quiddich' (?) game.  That is the game they play in the sky so how the lass is going to work that one out with thirty kids in the hall and not kill someone I await to see.  I will wait at a distance which equals the entire length of the building!   
So far there have been nothing but happy faces from kids and mums and dads, whacking one another with sticks while flying may of course change this...
Then home to growl at the folks next door, eat and fall into my bed until Tuesday.



Tuesday 9 August 2016

Late Evening


Late last night I slipped out and tried to catch the setting sun as it turned the sky red while disappearing beyond the trees.  Naturally I could not gather the colour of the sky as the trees hid the sun and when I got a decent shot it had almost gone down.  There I was, at nine in the evening, standing among the graves trying to glimpse the last of the sun.  I'm glad no-one was watching.
I doubt I will do this tonight.

 
This boring picture means little but it speaks to me of the quiet in the evening when most have gone home or are in some building following their passions.  Only a dog walker or two, chasing a ball or stick is mandatory for the dogs here and it keeps the owners fit, a courting couple, I could tell they were courting by her standing there questioning him, and few others were to be seen.  
I am so unused to such sights as I watch too much football!


Another busy day of mums and dads, grans and grandads bringing the kids in for activities or to see the exhibition.  So far it has gone well with few complaints and lots of happy kids, therefore happy older folks day after day.  This week is 'Harry Potter' and some of these kids know all about it, one wee lass had just read in a week an 800 page Potter story!   Whatever you think about these stories it has made many kids read, reading is always good and it is important to make them read more.   
Getting them to put down story books and read proper ones is harder but they can do it.  After a Victorian experience one six year old asked her mum for Victorian books as she was impressed by role playing Victorians, so it does happen. 



Monday 8 August 2016

Demolish!


The process of removing an aged building, this one contained asbestos and was condemned, is a fraught one.  The building, used by the Red Cross Ambulance folks lay abandoned for a long period when suddenly it was up for sale.  Next thing I find a man wandering about peering into windows, a developer hoping to meet one of the tenants.  This tenant was working as an estate agent and had informed him of a quick buck, and she would get a piece.  Indeed the sale went ahead, by auction, after she had moved into her boyfriends (at the time) place.   So it was sold and nothing happened.  Then plans appeared for a three storey block of flats that was clearly taken from elsewhere and dumped on the plot.  We were not having that and a later plan was accepted for a two storey block.  
Then it transpired the greedy owner had sold the land to another and made some £50,000 in the process.  Ten percent for her I expect.  Nothing of course then happened, a bit like my life.  Yet one day suddenly people were working on the drains, blocking the road and doing something, but not much.  
Nothing then happened.
Today, much later, a large yellow machine was brought in and demolition began, slowly.  Two big yellow machines stood around with several men in orange overalls while two non overalled men talked about the work.  Either the new developer/owner or the contractor boss.  Either way little more was done but some banging and heaving and then they took the big yellow machine away, probably to stop it being stolen during the night.
Does this mean something is happening?  Does this mean they will finish knocking down the hut?  Could this be one of those points in law that you must do a certain amount of work or reapply for planning permission I wonder?  
The excitement continues....



So in my sleepy state I gathered myself together this morning and headed for Sainsburys just up the road and a handful of requirements.  On the way I remembered I need to draw money out of the hole in the wall that usually laughs at me when I try.  I sneaked up on it and from the side entered my card and demanded £100.  Unfortunately I pressed the £10 and that was all I got.  I was too ashamed to try again deciding instead not to pay cash anywhere.  
I drooped along through the now awakened main street, shop doors were opened, people looking in the windows, the first mums dragging children around with them, a sense of a new day hung in the air.  I later found myself in the supermarket but was unable to grasp where things were.  Usually I follow the same old routine and it took me some time to realise the problem lay in my 'Sainsburys' thoughts being overridden by my actually having walked into 'Tesco' out of habit!  By this time I had lost all care and just wandered about picking up likely things forgetting I had a list in my hand.
I'm dreading tomorrow at the museum...

  

Sunday 7 August 2016

Sabbath Musings


At last, and after far too long a break, the football season proper has returned!
The usual start of course, Rangers, the SPFLs friend get an easy start while the Heart of Midlothian play Celtic and then Aberdeen and that one away!  Naturally also today we outplayed Celtic and they steal the game with a lucky breakaway goal near the end.  It was ever thus!  
Also naturally I was informed the game began at three in the afternoon and having been out this morning and rushing home to see the other game between St Johnstone v Aberdeen at 12 I happily drifted into asleep after the game knowing I would miss nothing.  I missed 30 minutes of the referees preference for the visitors as the game actually began at 2:15!! GRRR! It's a disgrace!
Now however as always I am emotionally worn out, I need another rest, my heart has skipped a beat, my nerves are shaking, and my head spinning.  This football wears you out and there is still nine more months of this to go!


Olympics, I really don't care!  The BBC is totally given over to this waste of cash and every channel is full of this extravaganza.
Since Lord Coe in his heedless determination to have a Great Britain football team for the London Olympics that we will still be paying for in a centuries time, since he informed the Scots to 'F. Off! when the Scottish Football Association refused to play ball I have lost any lingering concern for this 'Team GB' an absurd way to describe the team anyway.  There is no 'GB' and there should be no 'Team GB.'   It ought to be called 'Team UK' but because some in Northern Ireland don't like it so that part is omitted to allow them to choose whether to be GB or Ireland.  Yet Scots are forced to be GB, it's a disgrace!
Rarely will I watch any of the late night offerings, most of which will concentrate on England, sorry, 'Team GB' anyway.  I am glad some football will be available to take the mind of things.
It is at least better than tennis!



Saturday 6 August 2016

Nothing to Say


After a day at the museum working myself into my chair I have nothing to say.  Liverpool Street pictures have been used up, what is left is not great and my mind is dead after having to get up early and work.


In a corner of the entrance at St Magnus the Martyr stands this grimy iron relic.  Some claim it is a boundary marker but to me it is more likely to mark a fire hydrant or some such device.  E & S Poynder were plumbers in 1914 it appears and this strange device may be understood from that - possibly.  
Tonight I return to a search for a man who I searched for last year, or at least this time i look for his brothers who survived.  My frazzled brain is contemplating leaving it until tomorrow but it will have to be done soon.  

I leave you with this thought...




Friday 5 August 2016

Scraping the Barrel


In spite of many years of development, fire, redevelopment the Roman wall that once stood around Londinium can still be seen in places, the road called 'London Wall' kind of illustrates it well.  Here, just below the 'Museum of London' is one huge part which has as you can see been built upon many times since the Romans began it in the middle of the first century AD. 


From the tower that was the wall stretched southwards towards the Thames yet lay hidden for many years until those German Heinkel pilots dropped their bombs upon the then buildings standing here revealing the hidden gems for all to see.  Actually there is not much to see at all but the eager archeologists who strove to uncover the foundations and interpret their finds enjoyed greatly what they came upon.

   

Clearly the Victorian churchmen were not going to allow new constructions to steal a foot of their territory as in between what once were built here stood this sign, dated 1860, for all to see and take note off.  The Parish limits must be observed and it is important to ensure the correct people are in charge of appropriate spaces.  Anyway rates must be paid to the right hand innit guv.


I took this simply because I liked it.  This lamppost stands at the rear of the Gresham Centre, once St Anne & St Anne's Church, and now a centre for 'vocal music performance.'  I suppose in days of yore we called that 'singing?


Postman's Park hosts the memorial begun in the 19th century to those who died attempting to save others.  A noble enterprise that has not been continued by the tabloid press which is a pity.  There are numerous such heroic acts these days but these flash by with no permanent memorial to be found.


Yet another closed church on a Saturday yet clearly open during the week for the million or so City workers passing each other daily as they run the 'rat race.'  The 'Postman's Park is what once was the church grounds, the name coming from the nearby Royal Mail headquarters and the many post employees who sit in the park I suppose for lunch.  Here the memorial to the dead hero's stands among the remains of the old graveyard.  Now well tended and peaceful a welcome break for the city worker.


A break was indeed required so I made for the 'Lord Raglan' the only hostelry open and for the same price as my earlier Egg and bacon roll and coffee I obtained one pint of Guinness.  For London I suppose it was cheap!  This appeared to be the only pub for miles around, not that I looked, and from the window i watched the passersby pass by.  
Tourists and those connected to the never ending cyclists, people leaving the nearby Museum and a wedding party all in their finery heading for the Postman's Park for photographs.  Later, much later, a young woman in high heels too high for her wobbled past in that direction and I wished I had the video working at the time.  Fashion dictates and the results are not always in the lassies interests.  

  
The Lord Raglan pub stands in St Martins-le-Grand, a continuation of Aldersgate Street.  The name comes from the gate in the wall that once stood here, and the name itself possibly from a later Saxon, one 'Ealdred' after the Romans had long gone.  Aldersgate Street in in fact the beginning, or the end depending on which way you are travelling, of the A1, the Great North Road.  As such this is the gate through which James VI and I arrived in London in 1603 to claim the English throne and rightly place England under Scots control.  
During 1738 John Wesley attended a meeting here and while the preacher spoke on the Letter to the Romans John felt his heart 'strangely warmed' and the Methodists had begun.  Aldersgate was demolished in 1761 probably while rich folks houses were erected but I doubt John Wesley had anything to do with that.
The 'Lord Raglan' has been here for centuries, Shakespeare is supposed to have visited but he is supposed to have visited most pubs in London at one time, and this one was rebuilt in the mid 19th century and and named after the Crimean War General.  The pub retains a welcoming dark wooden Victorian interior.  I found the staff efficient even friendly, the place clean and well looked after and the toilets aged in style in keeping with the building but considerably cleaner than mine!  Upstairs snooker tables await those willing to show off!  I didn't.

  
Had I been young and rich I would of course travel about on one of these.  However I would not park it like this near a narrow road turning in central London!  Actually I would never have one of these, the one bike I got I destroyed by technical incompetence and this modern British 'Triumph' would not survive my skills.  I wanted a bike when I was 15 and stood outside Alexander's shop in Lothian Road hoping they would give me a spare 'BSA,' 'Triumph,' 'Norton' or even a wee 'James.'  They never did and by the time I was 17 they had all been killed off by the Japanese!  The British manufacturers refusal to change their ways led to huge sales of the vastly superiour 'Suzuki' and 'Honda's' killing the industry.  Man management, planning and unwillingness to change their ways killed them long before Maggie Thatcher was able to do so.


A quick last look again at the smell of the Thames and while the sewage bubbles under and the occasional tourist falls in and drifts off towards the open sea I rest my hot lens and seek refuge in the train before my knees give way.









Thursday 4 August 2016

The Centre


The difference between a leisurely Saturday rail journey and a middle of the week commuter rush hour one is great.  Mine took just over the hour, encountered no problems and allowed me a seat to myself with few around me all the way.  How different from the tired sardines crushed together as the train waits somewhere along the line because a door will not shut or someone has thrown themselves selfishly in front of the train or a signal has failed yet again.  Occasionally lorry drivers like to drive 15ft tall lorries under 14ft high bridges, sometimes staff do not turn up, on odd occasions a passenger will be genuinely taken seriously ill, anything to disrupt a service involving hundreds of trains along the line.  Once the line gets so far out of London it becomes two lines only for many areas with a few 'loops' at stations on the way.  Any traffic problem and the whole lot between London and Colchester falls apart.  No wonder people grumble yet I can understand why the rail company feel no guilt.  For one many faults are not off their making on the other they are only in it for the money and it is the public and the passengers (sorry 'customers') who suffer.


Now the grime has been cleared away and a hundred or more years of smoke removed we can see the wonderful Victorian iron roof (I take it to be iron) that stretches overhead.  Even better now the glass has been cleaned.  Such huge cavernous spaces were wonders indeed in Victorian times and I can see why.
At Paddington a similar cross like structure exists and this was to allow for a crane to carry the small coaches from one line to another without going all the way out and in again.  Sometimes horses were used to pull them into position.  I wonder if this was a similar situation at Liverpool Street in times past?

Sir Henry Wilson was a man who disagreed with General Haig from the start.  He was very much a French loving General who supported Lloyd George and the other War Cabinet members in their belief in French superiority.  In 1918 when he took over as the top man in London he suddenly found himself agreeing with Haig and insisting to Lloyd George, now Prime Minister, that Haig was the best man for the job.  Funny how things change when the job is yours.  He unveiled this and other memorials but was very much a supporter of the anti IRA faction and as such he was blown up two days after the unveiling and killed.


The one thing difficult to discover in London is a cheap eatery yet on Saturday I walked into one.  This place, going by the clever name of 'EAT' gave me a bacon and egg roll with coffee for £4:45 and I thought that not only did it save my life but for London this was cheap!  The place was clean, the staff friendly, the service excellent and if back there I will look in again.  Well done 'EAT!'

  
Mansion House is the place where the Lord Mayor of London is supposed to live.  Personally I suspect he lives in another more acceptable mansion elsewhere and uses this for his London business only but that's by-the-by.   Once a year the Chancellor of the Exchequer is paraded around here before he gives his annual speech about how he will rob the poor and feed the rich as George Osborne has done for the last six years.  As the only way to get a proper picture of the pretentious structure is to cross the road I didn't bother.  I blame the knees.


Opposite the Mansion House is the Bank of England (begun by a Scot) here watching the choir who are positioned over the place that caved in due to the Blitz bomb in 1941.  The bank is a solid edifice but not an attractive one.  In keeping with the people at the top it says "Keep away, I'm too important for the likes of you!"  I stayed away caring not a jot.

   
Looking the other way we find this, the result of a drunken architects bet surely?  I suggest the bet was he could design a building so daft yet get both a buyer and permission to erect it in the heart of the City of London, and here it is.  I blame alcohol!


The Royal Exchange, founded in the 16th century and rebuilt several times, this Greek temple impersonation dates from 1840, was the commercial heart of London for many years, at least for the 150 years when Lloyds of London used it.  Today it is a mixture of classy (overpriced) shops and is of course closed on Saturdays!  


In front stands a classy memorial to the 'Men of London' who served in a variety of regiments, mostly Royal Fusiliers or the London Regiment, and who gave their lives in the Great War.


James Henry Greathead was as you know the man who along with Peter W. Barlow developed the Tunneling shield used in the creation of much of London's underground and tunnels under the Thames.  He was railway engineer on much of London's railways and worked in Liverpool and Ireland also.  The plinth he stands on hides a ventilation shaft for the underground beneath him.

Wot mean you 'Is it finished?' No there are more London pics to come!
Hello?  hello?  Operator, I've been cut off!


Wednesday 3 August 2016

City Churches


While I dozed on the high speed express hindered by nothing more than signal problems, people throwing themselves in front of trains and lack of drivers/guards my mind considered St Michael, Cornhill.  This is because many moons ago I came across the excellent Great War Memorial found at the door.  


And what a door!  
St Michael stands on what was in Roman London the Basilica, the centre of Roman administration.  The name Cornhill comes from the hill itself, difficult to see in today's world, and the Corn Market that stood here in the distant past.  A church stood on this spot long before William the Conqueror arrived which was unfortunate as that Great Fire, so often mentioned, came along and burnt it to the ground in 1666 leaving only the Tower standing.  Christopher Wren is said to have rebuilt the church but this is disputed, and he had dozens of others on the go so maybe his men did the work, who knows.  The work on the tower ('in the Gothick manner') was also said to be Wrens but this was completed by Nicholas Hawksmoor. 

 
Again it's a case of looking upwards as I suppose the worshiper was meant to do but it does harm the neck muscles after a while.   All London churches have connections to the various guilds, this one was connected to the 'Drapers' and in Victorian times they were forced to spend money on the building or hand it over to the Ecclesiastical Commissioners.  There is no surprise that they chose the building and instructed Sir Gilbert Scott, indicating how much they had, to improve the church.  His work saw the improved door facing Cornhill with carving from John Birnie Philip above the entrance showing St Michael disputing with satan.  

 
The Lord himself is seen just above the door ratheroffering a sign of peace we cannot know he ever offered, but it makes sculptors happy.  As you may expect the door was firmly shut to passersby and while the church boasts that it opens on Sunday, one of the few that do, and appears to open during the week while I stand outside the door remains firmly shut.


Nothing for it but to admire the war memorial once again.  This statue can be found elsewhere, I have seen photographs occasionally of such Roman soldiers on guard at memorials, yet it speaks of the vast money available after the war from parishioners and the Drapers to commemorate their dead and that reveals something of the effect the war had on the people contributing.  That war affects us to this day!


"The names were recorded on this site of 2130 men who from 
 offices in the parishes of this united Benefice volunteered to serve 
their country in the Navy and Army.  Of these it is known that at 
least 170 gave their lives for the freedom of the world." 


The church was not damaged during the Blitz and while marks on the walls indicate possible war damage, often found on London buildings, this Masons Mark stands out on this stone.  I wonder what date this comes from, the time after the Great Fire most likely but possibly one of the renovation periods perhaps.  The narrow passage to the right of the entrance where this can be seen is one of many found in the City, maybe one day I will go back and photograph these.  


This, as you may guess, is St Mary Woolnoth, another that closed its doors to me.  This baroque looking building was erected in 1727 by Nicholas Hawksmoor, he has been busy aint he?  This was not the first church structure here as Roman and pagan finds show this spot had a religious use in times past.  The Norman's as you know built in stone within ten years of arrival to cow the natives and remind them who was the power in the land.  Until then the Saxons would have created a wooden church as that was the readily available building material and stone was expensive.  The 'Woolnoth' in the name may be a reminder of a Norman gent living here in the 12th century who was probably the local Lord of the manor.  
Between 1897 and 1900 the Underground reached this area and 'bank' station was built part of which included escalators reaching under the church.  Public disquiet stopped the railway company's planned demolition of the church and steel pillars were inserted to keep the building safe.  
However during an air raid at 8pm on the 11th of January 1941 a bomb managed to break through into the booking hall not far beneath the roadway.  Further the explosion made its way down the escalators onto the platform killing and wounding many.   Figures vary but some claim 51 died while total casualties (dead, wounded and missing) were 111.  Others claim 111 were the dead, I go with 51 as most fail to understand the word casualties.  This information was I understand withheld at the time and released only after the end of the war.


Among those connected with the church in times past were William Wilberforce who spent a great many years fighting against the slave trade worshiped here and John Newton a man who once ran a slave ship but accepting Jesus as Lord gave evidence against the trade, evidence that led finally to Britain opposing it stoutly.  Newton became incumbent here between 1780 until 1807 the year of his death.  His previous Parish had been at Olney and while preparing for the Wednesday night meetings he would often attempt to find a new song.  One night he produced 'Amazing Grace' a song that has summed him up perfectly and become a favourite worldwide.  The music as we know it was added much later by one William Walker long after Newtons death. 


Like many churches in this area the front door is hidden down narrow passages and while a wee bit wider here we find St Stephen Walbrook hiding quietly behind the Mansion House.  The 'Walbrook' is one of London's lost rivers which have long since been 'culvertised,' indeed this one since the 16th century, and even today while the stream still flows it was added to the sewage workings of the 19th century when a massive improvement was undertaken.
The church itself like most others around here goes back into the mists of time.  Burnt down by the Fire Christopher Wren spent almost £8000 rebuilding the place in splendid style including a central dome not unlike the one he placed in St Paul's.  Little damage occurred during the blitz and this was soon repaired.
However the church's fame in recent years comes from one Chad Varah who became rector in 1953 and remained here for fifty years.  Varah's fame spread after he conducted a funeral for a 13 year old suicide who had misunderstood her periods thinking she had a venereal disease.  From this time on he offered an emergency service for desperate folks known to us as the 'Samaritans.'  Here he led volunteers in a full and frank teaching regarding the problems of London life including frank sex talk, which shook some early volunteers, and the great London need of loneliness.  These have not changed much over the period.  
A man of mixed blessings he had a finger in many activities although his theology was a bit skewwiff from what I can make out however his concern for others was great.  By 2004 Varah's connection to the Samaritans ended as he felt it was not the organisation he had created.  Varah and his wife Susan continued their many 'good works' until their deaths, his at the age of 96 in 2007.


One church that was open on Saturday was the tourist attraction that is St Paul's.  I avoided this as I canny stand tourists!


Look!  A church with an open door!  'St Vedas-Alias-Foster' who else?  Somewhat typically this was a church of the Anglo Catholic tradition which being over the road from St Paul's saw the sense in remaining open when tourists flocked to the eating places next door and sought a moment of quiet.


Sadly I thought this somewhat disappointing as this type of collegiate design does not reflect churches as we should know them.  However being badly damaged during the blitz, only a shell remained, the contents were rescued from other blitzed churches which did not recover from the war damage.  Therefore it is a good example of salvage as well as a rebuilt church.  As I said this was open, the only one I found, and it appears to me that if any church in the City of London can get the volunteers to keep it open a small £1 'donation' charge could provide a decent income during the summer at least.  The use of freewill donations may bring cash but not a great deal.  Some of course resent being charged to enter a church but many of these fail to notice the 'donation box' at the back.  
St Vedas as you may know was a leader of the church at Arras in the 6th century and he was the one credited with rebuilding the church after years of Roman and tribal fighting.  The King of the Franks, called 'Clovis' was converted by him it is said.  
This church may have originated with the Flemish weavers who arrived during the 12th and 13th centuries.  Wool was King then and the English with masses of sheep wool to export brought Flemish weavers here to develop the economy.  The Lord Chancellor, and now the 'Speaker' of the House of Lords sits on the 'Woolsack' an idea that may have begun in the 14th century when Edward III caused his Lord Chancellor to sit on this to remind everyone of the importance of wool to the economy.   
Strangely the church was damaged and left a shell by the 1666 fire but was repaired satisfactorily without recourse to Christopher Wren which indicates they probably did not have the money to employ someone of his stature.   


Lovely glass windows with a Victorian appearance possibly because some glass was saved after the blitz and reused in the renovation during the 1950's.  

 
This somewhat miserable looking tower standing between modern blocks of concrete and glass is one of the most famous churches in the world.  'St Mary'le'Bow' the church where it is said that if you are born within the sound of its bells you are a 'Cockney.'
The church stood here in Saxon times, a wooden structure surrounded by wooden houses all of which suffered great damage from the Tornado that arrived in 1091.  600 homes destroyed, church rafters embedded in the ground, London Bridge demolished and yet only two were killed on that occasion.
Considered to be the second church in importance after the nearby St Paul's and at the risk of repeating myself I have to say the building burnt down during the Great Fire and Sir Christopher Wren rebuilt this one first as it was of such importance.  The 'Bow belles' the word 'Bow' comes from the arches on the old building, the bells recorded in 1926 can still be heard on the BBC occasionally and I think I am right is saying that when 'Big Ben' is out of order for any reason these bells are used by the BBC to tell the time.  Hearing these bells via the BBC when being born does not make you a Cockney!  The Germans attempted to stop the bells by dropping bombs on the church but these were reinstated by 1956 and the church continued as always.  It was of course closed when I passed.


She must have been a strong woman!