WALKING WITH SEMI-DERELICTION

 I was walking in Stratford, the one in London, not the one upon Avon.  I had my reasons.  Stratford is usually just a place I just pass through on the train but this time I walked its streets and I was glad I did.

 

Stratford shows the world a face that is shiny, glossy, modern, sky-scraperish, zestily architectural, and the buildings have names like The Stratosphere Tower, the Unex Tower, the Legacy Tower, and many more besides, some still in the process of being built.

 

At this point I couldn’t tell you which building is which but collectively they make for some elegantly dramatic backgrounds for the urban pedestrian.  And nearby of course there are towers that are less shiny and glossy – for example the Carpenters Estate, old style council housing, though (as is the way of these things) it’s currently being restored and regenerated: a billion pound rebuild delivering 2022 homes.  You do the maths.

 

And I found myself walking past James Riley Point, part of the Carpenters Estate, which was in an elegant state of decay. It’s described by the architects currently working on it as a “23-storey semi-derelict residential tower” – and this one, they say, is not only being restored and regenerated, but actually reinvented.  Oh boy.

 

I was able to meander around the tower at ground level – I love a bit of ruin, or indeed semi-dereliction - and saw these curious and mysterious objects set into the ground.  Can anybody tell me what they are/were?

 

And I was able to look up at the pebble dashing on the building (I don’t think we’d call it cladding but I could be wrong) – some of which was obviously falling off and there were big lumps of it lying on the ground nearby.

 

Now being a scavenger, curator, collector and occasional recycler I was keen to pick up a lump of the stuff and take it back to the Nicholson Archive. But the lump I wanted was too big and heavy. and I was on foot and had somewhere else to be. If I’d had a car with me it might all have been very different. 

 

And as night drew in I wandered a little further, and I think you know that much as I love a good tower block, I enjoy a good obelisk even more.  And there on the Broadway was/is the Samuel Gurney Memorial, strangely out of place in its current surroundings but nothing wrong with that:

 

Now, need I say that I had never heard of Samuel Gurney but it turns out he was a banker, philanthropist, and MP, pro-penal reform, anti-slavery, anti-capital punishment, and apparently an all round good egg. He died in 1856 and the obelisk was erected in 1861, it’s also a drinking fountain.

        Now, I imagine the billion pound rebuild may contain the odd "hydration station," but I’ll bet it doesn’t contain any new obelisks.  I’d love to be proved wrong.

 

 

 

THE WELL WORN WALKER

A.E. Housman is not an open book to me, and much of what I know about him comes from an essay I read by Alan Bennett. And the most interesting thing in that essay runs as follows, “At Cambridge, where he was professor of Latin, he took a daily walk and after it would change all his underwear – a habit he shared with Swinburne.”

The curious part of that sentence is the word “all.” Just how much, how many kinds, of underwear did he (or they) wear?  More than just vest and underpants?  Combinations? Drawers? Something more exotic?  This kind of thing?

 

        

 

If a work of statuary can be believed, Housman did look like a walker.

Swinburne on the other hand looks like a man who’s got his knickers in a twist.  

Though this is how Swinburne looks in a portrait by Robert M.B. Paxton, at the National Portrait Gallery, which is much more persuasive.

Alan Bennett does look convincingly like a walker.  

His underwear arrangements, to date, must remain a private matter, and personally I prefer it that way.