THE ONLY REMAINING VISUAL EVIDENCE OF A CREEK IN WEST LONDON

IN MY BOOK about west London, “Beyond Marylebone and Mayfair: Exploring West London”, I described a stream that used to flow through Hammersmith. It was located where part of Furnivall Gardens now stands today. I wrote:

“… Furnivall Gardens, a pleasant open space created in 1951, and named after a distinguished scholar of English literature and an important pioneer in the sport of rowing, Dr Frederick James Furnivall (1825-1910) … Before WW2, the area of the park was covered with industrial buildings including the Phoenix Lead Mills, which stood east of The Creek, an inlet of the Thames that was filled-in in 1936.

In earlier times, The Creek, which extended as far inland as today’s King Street, was centre of Hammersmith’s flourishing fishing industry. Writing in 1876, James Thorne described The Creek as follows: ‘… a dirty little inlet of the Thames, which is crossed by a wooden footbridge, built originally by Bishop Sherlock in 1751 … the region of squalid tenements bordering the Creek having acquired the cognomen of Little Wapping, probably from its confined and dirty character.’

The Creek, an outlet of the now largely hidden Stamford Brook, is long gone, but there is a storm outlet in the bank of the Thames close to where The Creek emptied into the river. This can be seen from Dove Pier at the western end of the Gardens.”

Today, the 25th of February 2024, we were walking past Furnivall Gardens along the riverside path. It was low tide. A wide, not too clean, beach lined the river. At one point, the beach was interrupted by what looked like the mouth of a small stream. This was lined on both sides with wooden fencing. The stream, which issued from below the riverside walkway ended abruptly in an archway that was filled by a sturdy door or dam. The position of this sluice gate in relation to the nearby Dove pub, Dove Pier, and Furnivall Gardens is correct for what must have once been the mouth of Hammersmith’s erstwhile Creek. I had noticed the archway with the heavy-looking door many times before, but today, because of the low tide, it was the first time that I could clearly the remnants of the mouth of the Creek. I suppose that there is some leakage from the now covered-up Creek that causes the appearance of the mouth of a small stream when the tide is out.

My illustrated book about West London is available as a paperback and a Kindle from:

Extracting the truth

EXTRACTING TEETH IS still a significant part of the job of a dentist.

When I qualified as a dentist in 1982, I joined the practice in Rainham (Kent) run by Julian U. He was a generally competent dentist and very skilful when it came to extracting teeth. If, as it happened from time to time, I was having difficulty removing a tooth, he would come into my surgery to apply his skill and experience to the problem at hand. Whenever he did this, he would work on the offending tooth, but would stop when he knew I would be able to complete the operation.

Julian could have easily finished the job himself, but he left it to me to do this for a good reason. He knew that if I removed the tooth, the patient would believe that it was my skill that contributed to the successful conclusion of the operation and therefore would not lose confidence in me.

Later in the day, after the patient had left, Julian would explain to me why I  had had difficulties and how to avoid repeating the problem. He was a great mentor as I began my career in dentistry.

The NHS used to pay a standard fee for an extraction. If an extraction proved to be particularly difficult, involving bone removal for example, the practitioner could write to the NHS explaining why the operation was not simple and enclosing a radiograph (xray image) of the tooth in question. In these cases, the NHS used to pay a larger fee than the standard one.

On one occasion when I had not taken a radiograph prior to an extraction because I  had assumed it would be simple, the operation proved to be very difficult. After completing it, I  applied for the supplementary fee but did not receive it because I  had not submitted a preoperative radiograph.  I was furious not only because I had not been adequately remunerated for my effort but also because my word had been doubted.

Some months later,  a distressed couple brought their infant to my surgery. The child had chewed on a keyring and it had got stuck between two teeth. Carefully, I cut through the ring and thereby removed it from the kid’s teeth.

Still smarting from my failure to convince the NHS that my extraction of a few months earlier was truly difficult, I  wrote up my keyring removal and applied for a fee for this unusual procedure.  I explained that neither had I taken a radiograph (because it was unnecessary) nor was I  able to send them any evidence, such as the remains of the keyring because the parents had wanted to keep them. I waited patiently for the NHS to reply, which they did. To my great surprise,  they believed my story without me sending any evidence and paid me a decent fee. Nowadays, it would be unwise to perform any extraction without having taken a preoperative radiograph. This is not for the purposes of seeking enhanced remuneration but to protect the practitioner should the patient decide to make a complaint against the dentist. Sad to say, but by the time I retired, preventive dentistry acquired a new meaning. In addition to preventing dental disease in patients, it has also come to mean preventing the dentist from litigation and defending him or her when malpractice is alleged.