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Swamp Cypress and Skunk Cabbage in a park near Hampton Court

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I ALWAYS ENJOY visiting Bushy Park, which is near to London’s famous Hampton Court Palace. Parts of the park are unenclosed, where plenty of deer roam at liberty. Other parts – the Pheasantry and Waterhouse plantations – are enclosed by fencing to keep the deer excluded.

The plantations contain a rich variety of plants and trees, all of which are a joy to see. There are two types of plants that never fail to fascinate me. One of these is the swamp cypress trees (Taxodium distichum). What makes them interesting is their aerial roots (known as ‘Cypress Knees’), which look like small woody stalagmites or tapering tree trunks. You can see rows of these stumpy aerial roots lining the stream near to the Pheasantry Café. According to a web article (www.graftingardeners.co.uk/trees-of-bushy-park/), these trees were:

“Once native to Britain, there have been ancient remains of this tree species found in Bournemouth. However, the swamp cypress was reintroduced to Britain by John Tradescant the Younger in 1640 … When the ground is particularly waterlogged, the swamp cypress tree grows pneumatophores. These are like knobbly woody stumps that grow out of the ground and serve as a sort of snorkel.”

Skunk Cabbage flowers

The other plant that stands out in my mind is known as Skunk Cabbage. With yellow flowers that slightly resemble Arum lilies, the Skunk Cabbage (Lysichiton americanus) is believed to emit an odour similar to that of skunks when it blooms. The smell is attractive to pollinators. The plant, although interesting to look at is a potential pest, as I found out on a website that deals with invasive species (www.invasivespecies.scot/american-skunk-cabbage):

“The large leaves and dense stands of the plant lead to it out-competing smaller plants due to its shading effect and can cause extensive damage locally to native flora including vascular plants and mosses. It can grow in shade or full-light and in a range of different soil conditions and thrives in disturbed environments. Given the popularity of this plant in gardens and its continued introduction into the wild, the problems are likely to increase.  Although initial invasions will expand slowly, once this plant takes hold it can spread rapidly and become a serious problem.”

We saw the Skunk Cabbage in various stages from bud to full bloom when we visited Bushy today (the 24th of March 2024), but could not get close enough to the flowers to smell the odour from which they have got their name. I had noticed these plants before, but until today I did not know what they are.  

Seeing curious plants such as the Swamp Cypresses and the Skunk Cabbage, which, incidentally, is edible if its root is roasted and dried, adds to the pleasure that is gained from seeing Bushy’s less strange plants such as daffodils, camellias, rhododendrons, and so on. Visiting the park and its gardens is well worthwhile, but get there early in the morning to ensure finding a place in the car parks.

Fading signs painted on a building near London’s Holborn

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TWO FADED SIGNS CAUGHT my attention when I was walking along the east side of Southampton Row (just north of Holborn Underground station). The sign is on the southern side of the intersection of Catton Street and Southampton Row. The two faded, painted signs are separated by another which is carved on a stone plaque, and is clear to read. This sign reads:

“This memorial stone was laid by Alexander Maclaren, DD,, Litt D. President of the Baptist Union 1875-6 and 1901-2 on Wednesday 24th of April 1901”

Above this, there is a painted sign that can easily be read:

“To Kingsgate Baptist Church”

Below these two signs, there is another painted sign,a ‘ghost sign’, which has deteriorated considerably, but parts of it can either hardly be read or are illegible. Here is what I made of it:

“The CA[illegible] [2 more illegible words] Kingsgate House Acc[illegible] &(?) Warehouse Church Furniture”

An online article published in July 2020 in Italian (www.thelondonerd.com/tag/statua/) revealed that then, when the sign was more legible, it read:

“The Carey Kingsgate Press Ltd. – Accountancy – Warehouse – Church Furniture”

This web article also includes lovely photographs of the now re-purposed Kingsgate Chapel.

The three notices are on the corner of Kingsgate House, which was built between 1901 and 1903 for the Baptist Church. It was designed by Arthur Keen, architect for the Baptist Union of Great Britain and Ireland. The Baptists used the building up to 1996. Since then, it has been repurposed.

As for the Kingsgate Chapel (the ‘Kingsgate Baptist Church’ on the fading sign), this can now only be accessed by entering Kingsgate House. Constructed in 1856, it is attached to the northeast corner of the building. No longer accessible to the public and hidden away, it is an octagonal building that can be seen on detailed maps of today. When it was in use as a chapel, its entrance would have been just east of Kingsgate House on Catton Street (formerly known as Eagle Street). Close to where its entrance used to be, there is the entrance to the Baptist Bar, which is now housed in the former chapel.

The ghost sign mentions a warehouse and church furniture with an arrow pointing east along Catton Street. This must have been demolished many years ago. I spotted the fading signs whilst returning home late one evening. Now, having found out something about them, I look forward to returning to Kingsgate House and having a drink in the former chapel – if the bar is still open for business.

A lovely garden just east of a huge supermarket in North Kensington

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IF YOU WALK EASTWARDS from the canal side of Ladbroke Grove’s huge Sainsburys supermarket, the towpath alongside the Grand Union Canal (Paddington Arm) next runs alongside Meanwhile Gardens. There are several apertures through which one can enter the gardens from the towpath, and you can also gain access to the place from the streets that surround it.

In my book “Beyond Marylebone and Mayfair: Exploring West London” I wrote:

“In 1976, the Meanwhile Gardens were conceived as a green space for the local, then generally low-income, mixed-race community, by Jamie McCollough, an artist and engineer. They were laid out on a strip of derelict land, which once had terraced housing and other buildings before WW1. The garden received financial assistance from the Gulbenkian Foundation and other organisations. The garden was, according to circular plaques embedded in its pathways, improved in 2000.

The Garden and the Sainsbury supermarket are in a part of London that used to be known as ‘Kensal Town’. Residential buildings began appearing in the 1850s and many local people were employed in laundry work and at the gasworks of the Western Gas Company that was opened in 1845. In the 1860s and 1870s, there was much housebuilding in and around the area now occupied by Meanwhile Gardens.Golborne Road was extended to reach this area in the 1880s. Many of its inhabitants were railway workers and migrants, whose homes in central London had been demolished. The area was severely overcrowded and extremely poor. Few houses had gardens and the population density was high.

After WW2, many of these dwellings were demolished and replaced by blocks of flats, including the impressive, Brutalist style Trellick Tower (designed by Ernő Goldfinger [1902-1987], opened in 1972) and smaller but salubrious shared dwellings.

A winding path links the various parts of the lovely garden including a sloping open space; a concrete skate park; a children’s play area; several sculptures; small, wooded areas; some interlinked ponds with a wooden viewing platform; plenty of bushes and shrubs; bridges; and a walled garden that acts as a suntrap. Near the latter, there is a tall brick chimney, the remains of a factory. The chimney was built in 1927 near to the former Severn Valley Pure Milk Company and the Meadowland Dairy. It was the last chimney of its kind to be built along the Paddington Arm canal and is completely dwarfed by the nearby Trellick Tower.

The Moroccan Garden, an exquisite part of the Meanwhile Gardens, was opened in 2007 by Councillor Victoria Borwick on behalf of the local Moroccan community. It celebrates the achievements of that community and is open for all to enjoy. A straight path of patterned black and white tiling leads from the main path across a small lawn to a wall. A colourful mosaic with geometric patterning and a small fountain is attached to the wall, creating the illusion that a tiny part of Morocco has been transported into the Meanwhile Gardens. Nearby, there are a few seats for visitors to enjoy this tiny enclave within the gardens.

Words are insufficient to fully convey the charm of the Meanwhile Garden, one of west London’s many little gems. If you can, you should come to experience this leafy oasis so near the busy Harrow Road.”

If this short extract from my book that explores parts of west London – both familiar and unfamiliar – head for Amazon, where you can buy the book as a paperback and as a Kindle:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/BEYOND-MARYLEBONE-MAYFAIR-EXPLORING-LONDON/dp/B0B7CR679W/

Taking the plunge in a cold bath at Kenwood in north London

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I HAVE VISITED Kenwood House and its grounds innumerable times since my childhood, but it was only today (the 21st of March 2024) that I have been able to enter a part of it that has always been locked up whenever I have been there before. I am referring to a small building known as “The Bath House”. It is close to the courtyard where there are tables and chairs for visitors to use while enjoying refreshments.

A short staircase leads down to the door of the Bath House, which was probably already in existence when the Mansfields bought Kenwood and its grand house in 1754. The interior of the small edifice contains a circular pool. The wall around the marble-lined pool has several alcoves, and the concave ceiling is a plastered circular dome. What can be seen today is that is a faithful reconstruction of what had been there originally.

The pool used to be filled with cold water from one of the many iron-rich chalybeate springs in the area. In the 18th century, the chalybeate springs in nearby Hampstead were almost as famous and as much visited as those in Royal Tunbridge Wells (in Kent). The inhabitants of Kenwood House used to plunge themselves into the cold water because it was considered to be beneficial for health reasons in the 18th century.

It was only the select few who had the luxury of taking the plunge in such an elegant pool as can be seen in Kenwood. The other locals living in Hampstead had to make do with bathing in the many ponds that can still be seen dotted around Hampstead Heath. Within Kenwood House today, we saw a painting by John Constable (1776-1837) that depicts one of these ponds being used by bathers. For many years, the artist lived in Hampstead.

Small though it is, it was exciting to see within the Bath House at long last. For many decades, I have wondered what was within it, and now my curiosity has been satisfied.

The Virgin Queen visited here to watch the hunt in Epping Forest

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IT HAS BEEN STANDING for many centuries, but until we saw something about the place in a recent (March 2024) issue of the free Metro newspaper, we did not know it existed. The place is located in Epping Forest on Rangers Road, which runs eastwards from Chingford (on the edge of northeast London). I am referring to a well-preserved, whitewashed, half-timbered Tudor building, which was constructed in 1543 for King Henry VIII, and renovated by his daughter Queen Elizabeth I in 1589.

This edifice, which is 481 years old, is aptly known as ‘Queen Elizabeth’s Hunting Lodge’, and is open to the public to explore. It is a timber-framed three-storey ‘standing’. That is to say that it was constructed to be used as a place from which the hunt could be observed. And Epping Forest, where it stands, was, from the 12th century until the 19th century a Royal Forest, where only the monarch had the right to hunt deer. Although now fully glazed, originally the window apertures on the two upper floors were without glass. Visitors to the lodge would have been able to watch the hunt and, maybe also, shoot animals from these raised vantage points.

Throughout the building, one can see unpainted oak beams – supporting the floors, the walls, the ceilings, and the roof. The ground floor consists of an entrance hall and a larger room (with a fireplace), which served as a kitchen. A wooden staircase leads to the upper floors. It is wrapped around a square hollow newel, which supports the stair treads. There is a glass pyramid (not Tudor) above this space, which allows visitors to see the original lath and plaster work that makes up the newel.

Much of the first floor is occupied by a large hall with windows overlooking the forest. The second floor is similar, but it has a fine hammer-beam ceiling. Another such ceiling is high above the top of the staircase.

During the reign of Queen Victoria, the first floor of the lodge was divided into small bedrooms by partitions, which have long since been removed. It was then used as accommodation by the bailiff of the local lord of the manor. The Watkins family were residents for a period. It was Mrs Harriet Watkins, who used the Lodge and its garden for providing refreshments until 1897, when she took over the adjacent barn – now known as Butler’s Retreat – for the provision of teas. Writing about the lodge in 1876, James Thorne noted:

“The open space in front of the lodge has always been a favourite resort of the East-end holiday folk, for whom ‘tea and refreshments’ are provided at the lodge. On a fine summer’s day, on Monday especially, numerous picnic and ‘van’ parties may be seen, with swings improvised between the oaks, and gipsies with their donkeys in attendance.”

Regarding the suitability of the position of the lodge, he wrote:

“The ground, sloping gently from the lodge on all sides, used to be everywhere unenclosed, the tract beyond being open forest, with some famous unlopped trees, but chiefly, as in other parts of Epping Forest, of pollard oak.”

Today, standing on the second floor, or even on the first, one gets a good panoramic view of the surrounding land.

Queen Elizabeth’s Hunting Lodge is not as grand as some other surviving Tudor buildings (e.g., Hatfield House), but it has been well looked after and it is a remarkable survivor, which is well worth a visit. But before you go, please check the current opening tomes if you wish to explore its interesting interior.

Gas holders at London’s Kings Cross now reused for householders

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The remains of former gas storage units (gasometers) have been spruced up and repurposed as blocks of flats (near King’s Cross Station). Where the telescopic, cylindrical gas holders used to be, there are now cylindrical apartment blocks.

A friend pointed out:

” I marvel at the ingenuity and question how you’d furnish such impractical circular geometry that would probably require bespoke furniture. But frankly if you can afford to buy/rent one, you should be able to foot that expense!”

She has made some good points about these buildings.

Bacon, the Bard, and Butler’s Retreat in Epping Forest

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VISITORS TO QUEEN Elizabeth’s Hunting Lodge in Epping Forest can obtain food and drink at the nearby Butler’s Retreat. I will describe the Hunting Lodge in another essay, and will now concentrate on the small weatherboard clad building called Butler’s Retreat, and something that stands close to it. The Retreat is housed in an edifice that was originally built as a barn in about 1859. The Conservators of Epping Forest converted it into a retreat – a refreshment place – in about 1878.

The Retreats in Epping Forest were originally refreshment stalls set up by the Temperance movement to serve non-alcoholic drinks to the many trippers who came to enjoy the forest. Butler’s Retreat is one of the last surviving Victorian retreats in the forest. Its name derives from that of:

“John Butler who took over the lease of the barn on 1st January 1891 having previously operated a kiosk in the forest.” (www.chingfordhistory.org.uk/butlers-retreat-and-drinking-fountain)

His wife, Hannah, took over the refreshment business in 1903, and the Butler family ran it until 1971. After closing in 2009, the building was refurbished by the City of London Corporation (which maintains the forest) and re-opened as a cafe in 2012. The café no longer confines itself to non-alcoholic beverages. In addition to drinks, it serves a range of snacks and light meals. These can be eaten at tables outside the building or within its attractive dining areas in which supporting timber beams can be seen. They support the roof above the first-floor dining room.

Forty-five feet away from the northeast corner of Butler’s Retreat, there is an intact, but disused, pink granite drinking fountain, which was restored in 2011. Constructed in 1899, it was donated by Sir Edwin Durning-Lawrence, Bart, MP (1837-1914). After studying law at London’s University College, he qualified as a barrister at Middle Temple in 1867. During his working life he was both a Justice of the Peace and served as a Member of Parliament for Truro (from 1895 to 1906). Two of his brothers served as Lord Mayors of London.

Sir Edwin was a prolific author. He is best known for his writing in support of the idea that the plays attributed to William Shakespeare (1564-1616) – the Bard – were not written by him but by Francis Bacon (1561-1626). I am in no position to assess Sir Edwin’s arguments, but I believe that most modern scholars tend to believe that it was not Bacon but Shakespeare who wrote the plays.

Apart from providing the fountain near Butler’s Retreat, Sir Edwin donated his extensive library to the University of London. Also, some of the money he left to the university was used to endow a professorial chair in the History of Art department at his alma mater – University College London.

The drinking fountain at Butler’s Retreat is nothing too out of the ordinary to look at, but I am pleased that I did examine it closely to see what was inscribed on it, and noticed the name of Sir Edwin. It is interesting that this drinking fountain, which was donated by someone who doubted Shakespeare’s authorship, should be situated only a few yards away from a building that was standing during the Bard’s (and Bacon’s) lifetime – Queen Elizabeth’s Hunting Lodge.

A ghost sign on a building near Kings Cross railway station

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Definition: GHOST SIGNS are ” … fading advertisements once painted by hand onto buildings …”

(http://literarylondon.org/the-literary-london-journal/archive-of-the-literary-london-journal/issue-5-2/ghost-signs-londons-fading-spectacle-of-history/)

The photograph above is a simple example. Now a branch of Nando’s, this place in York Way (near Kings Cross station), which bears a ghost sign. It used to house a place where other refreshments were available long before Nando’s company was established.

THY HAND, GREAT ANARCH BY NIRAD CHAUDHURI

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HAVING BEEN BEFRIENDED by the author’s son Prithvi, and having seen some of his father’s belongings stored in the Calcutta Club (in Kolkata), I finally got around to reading a book that I bought almost 30 years ago. The 960-page volume by Prithvi’s father, Nirad C Chaudhuri (1897-1999), is called “Thy Hand, Great Anarch”, and was first published in1987. The title comes from a couplet in a poem by Alexander Pope (1688-1744):

“Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall;

And universal Darkness buries All.”

This pessimism well summarises what Chaudhuri has written in his enormous tome.

The book is the second part of Chaudhuri’s autobiography. It covers the period from 1921 to 1952 – the years leading up to the end of British rule in India and the first few years after the country gained its independence. Chaudhuri was a keen observer of what was going on in India during this period. Without pulling any punches, he gives his often-critical opinions of what was going on in the country, and never fails to point out what he felt was being done wrong both by the British and also by the Indians fighting for the end of British rule. Although he wrote this book long after 1952, he quotes from things he wrote during the period he described. He did this, I believe, to prove to the reader that his frequently idiosyncratic opinions were not as a result of looking back with hindsight, but were what he thought at the time.

One of Nirad’s chief criticisms of the various different freedom fighters was that they all expressed their dislike of British rule but, according to him, none of them proposed plans for how India was to be ruled if or when independence was achieved. I have read several books about the history of India’s fight for freedom, and most of them portray leaders such as Gandhi, Nehru, Vallabhai Patel, and Subhash Chandra Bose as heroic figures. This was not how Nirad portrayed any of them. Having been the personal secretary of Bose’s brother Sarat Bose, Nirad was in a good position to observe many political events at close hand. As for Gandhi, he wrote (giving his reasons):

“To take the question of his contribution to Indian independence first. It is a blatant falsehood to say that he or his movements brought it about, whatever their moral effect.”

This was not an opinion I had come across before in histories of the struggle for India’s independence. It is his highly individual and original views that help to make his book so engaging. He writes very scornfully of Subhash Chandra Bose’s politics and his cooperation with the British Empire’s enemies during WW2. As for Jinnah – the ‘father’ of Pakistan – he showed less disdain, writing:

“I must set down at this point that Jinnah is the only man who came out with success and honour from the ignoble end of the British Empire in India.”

Unlike members of the Indian National Congress and their opponents – the British Government, Jinnah:

“… never made a secret of what he wanted, never prevaricated, never compromised, and yet succeeded in inflicting an unmitigated defeat on both the British Government and the Indian National Congress.”

Although I got the feeling that Chaudhuri admired the British and believed that Indians would fare better by being part of the British Empire than they would in an India ruled by Indians, his book is by no means short of criticism of the British as colonists, during the last years of empire, and after India became independent. Figures such as Attlee and Mountbatten get little or no praise from Nirad. At the beginning of a chapter called “Mount Batten Piled on Mount Attlee”, he wrote:

“As if Attlee single-handed was not enough to complete the work of demolition begun by the more cunning mediocrity. Baldwin, he piled on himself Lord Mountbatten to add greater work to his policy, which brought endless misfortunes to the Indian people.”

As the book’s title suggests, the text contains Nirad’s views on the anarchy he perceived developing as India approached independence, and then after having achieved it. It is not surprising, given what he wrote and thought about the country of his birth that Nirad chose to move to England (in about 1982) and lived there until he died. Many readers might be surprised or even horrified by what the author wrote, but he takes care to make whatever he thought sound reasonable to his readers. There are parts of the book which I found hard going – difficult to comprehend, but I ploughed on regardless, and was pleased that I did.