29 November 2019

National Gutters Day : London


Happy National Gutters Day UK!


This is National Maintenance Week, an initiative of the Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings (SPAB) to remind building owners to give their property its annual ‘MoT’ before the onset of winter’s wild weather, rain and hail, sleet and snow, and those worrisome winds. And, one essential part of ensuring your building will cope with the potential problems of winter weather is ensuring your gutters and their hoppers are not full of rubbish and holes.


For me, on this blog, National Gutters Day is the very best excuse to highlight the often under-appreciated, yet truly wonderful designs that decorate many historic gutter hoppers. You can see a miscellany of fabulous guttering from a diverse range of buildings in England and north Wales on my first National Gutters Day blog in 2014, as well as some very nice gutter hoppers from buildings in and around Cardiff in my 2015 celebration blog here. More recently, I blogged about the hoppers I found in the historic East Sussex town of Lewes, and today my eye is focused on some of the hoppers I found during a recent visit to the city of London. Enjoy ... then get out and check those gutters, people!



These are just three of the many hoppers to be found on Westminster Abbey, a building that dates from the 13th century but has been much added to over the subsequent years. Such a large and important structure requires constant maintenance, even – or perhaps especially – to seemingly inconsequential items like the guttering and its hoppers. The few dates I noticed – 1700, 1723 and 1904 – indicate the frequent upkeep of the hoppers.



Southwark Cathedral is another important building with a long history of construction, damage, rebuilding, additions, restoration. It has some magnificent gargoyles, their mouths gaping over the downpipes that take damaging rain water away from the stonework. I also found one beautifully designed hopper, which must date from after 1905 as it shows the Southwark Diocese coat of arms (‘of the lozengy cross from the old Priory arms made up of eleven lozenges with a mitre in the first quarter’) granted in that year by the College of Arms. (The Cathedral’s coat of arms has since been altered.)


Though its various structures are much older, these hoppers on the Tower of London must date from some time during the reign of Queen Victoria, 1837 to 1901, as they have her royal cipher stamped upon them. I think the Tower authorities need to take heed of SPAB’s advice this week and instigate some urgent gutter maintenance.

24 November 2019

London : clocks


As you might expect in such an historic city, London has some very imposing clocks. Here are some of the more famous I spotted during my recent visit.

Little Ben
Big Ben may be the most famous clock in London, perhaps in the western world, but its tower was covered in scaffolding due to the ongoing restoration and refurbishment of parliament buildings, so here’s Little Ben instead. This clock, which sits at the corner of Victoria Street and Vauxhall Bridge Road, has a plaque that reads:

First erected in 1892. Taken down in 1964. Restored and re-erected on the 15th December 1981 by the Westminster City Council with the help of Elf Aquitaine UK, offered as a gesture of Franco-British friendship.

Little Ben’s apology for summer time

My hands you may retard or may advance
My heart beats true for England as for France.                          J.W.R.

A miniature version of Big Ben, the clock’s time was, in the past, set to daylight saving time rather than Greenwich Mean Time, so was correct for France in the winter months and for Britain in the summer, hence the comment on the plaque about ‘Franco-British friendship’ and the little ditty. 

I imagine local residents and commuters found that extremely confusing and the clock, which was removed again for refurbishment in 2012 and returned in 2016, now reflects the correct local time.



Westminster Abbey
When I was researching the clock on Westminster Abbey’s north-west tower, I discovered that you can buy a wristwatch of the same design, and Mallards, the company that crafts that watch (which can apparently be purchased in the Abbey shop), have included this brief history of the clock on their website:

It’s the north west tower that gave us the inspiration for our new wrist watch, as it’s home to the Abbey’s Georgian clock. The clock was made and fitted by John Seddon in 1738, seven years before the towers themselves were completed, but sadly, two years after Hawksmoor’s death. Each of the three dials has only one hand, which wasn’t remarkable in the 18th century, when accurate timekeeping wasn’t as essential as it is today – indeed, many domestic clocks had just a single hour hand. When the clock was refurbished in 1861, the movement was replaced but they stayed with the single hand – after all, the “Big Ben” clock had been installed by then, and perhaps two accurate clocks was considered an extravagance!

St Paul’s Cathedral
Not only have Smith of Derby been making clocks for over 150 years, they also restore and conserve many high-profile clocks, included the one at St Paul’s Cathedral, which they installed in 1893 and continue to maintain and service. A team at Smith inspects the clock on a regular basis and carries out a routine restoration plan to ensure the 126-year-old clock never misses a chime. As the Smith of Derby website explains:

The dials are integral to the fabric of the building, so cannot be removed. Members of our team qualified for full rope access are on hand to perform such restoration tasks. As with all dial conservation work we use the best quality paints and gold leaf, to ensure as long a life as possible.
...
The clock incorporates a weight driven mechanism with gravity escapement designed by Edmund Denison Beckett, which is similar to the one used by Edward Dent on ‘Big Ben’ in 1895.  With quarter chimes and hour striking the clock mechanism is now fitted with an electric winding system and the clock movement sits proudly in its 18 foot flat bed frame.

Details:
18 foot flat bed frame contains the clock movement
Originally manufactured and installed by John Smith and Sons in 1893
Incorporating a design of escapement by Edmund Denison Beckett
Electronic winding system designed and installed by Smith of Derby Ltd in 1969
Clock mechanism is 5.8 metres long


Royal Mews clock
Construction of the current Royal Mews buildings was completed in 1825, at a cost of over £65,000, as part of the rebuilding of Buckingham Palace commissioned by George IV. I have located one reference that attributes the design of the magnificent Mews clock, which adorns a tower above the Buckingham Palace Road entrance to the Mews, to prestigious clockmaker Benjamin Vulliamy (1747-1811). Vulliamy was granted a Royal Appointment as the King’s Clockmaker by George III in 1773 but he had died by the time of the 1825 rebuilding. It is, however, possible that one of his designs was still used for the clock, or that the clock was retained from an earlier building, or that the design was, in fact, that of his grandson, also named Benjamin ... which mention leads me nicely to my last clock (for now).


Horse Guards Building
Benjamin Lewis Vulliamy (1780-1854) continued the family tradition of crafting magnificent clocks and of the Royal Appointment as Clockmaker to the Crown until his death in 1854. He is responsible for an impressive number of clocks including this one, which is probably most watched at 11am each weekday morning and 10am on Sundays as those times mark the beginning of the daily ceremony of Changing the Queen’s Lifeguard (more details here).   

An entry on Wikipedia gives these details of the Horse Guards building clock:

The clock is sited in the turret above the main archway; it has two faces, one facing Whitehall and the other, Horse Guards Parade, each dial being 7 feet 5 inches (2.25 metres) in diameter. It strikes the quarter-hours on two bells. Originally made by Thwaites in 1756, the clock was rebuilt in 1815–16 by Benjamin Lewis Vulliamy, the clockmaker to King George III. Prior to the completion of the clock of Big Ben in 1859, the Horse Guards Clock was the main public clock in Westminster. A dark stain above the Roman number two on the clock face is supposed to mark the time of the execution of King Charles I in 1649, which took place in the roadway outside Horse Guards. The annual ceremony of Trooping the Colour commences when the Horse Guards Clock strikes eleven.


22 November 2019

Under my feet : Victoria and Albert Museum


Looking ‘Under my feet’ began as a series of ‘shoe selfies’ (I detest having my photo taken so seldom take face selfies), taken on my phone (so the photos are not very good quality) for posting on my Instagram account. But, almost immediately, I began to see noteworthy things under my feet and to realise how often I look up and around but not down. 

I have now begun to appreciate much more what lies beneath my feet and will occasionally blog about what I photograph. The subjects will probably be varied and a little random but hopefully interesting.

This first series of three photos was taken during a three-night stay in London at the end of October, a stay which included my first ever visit to the Victoria and Albert Museum, a museum that had long been on my list of must-visit places. As we were on a mission to give an Australian friend a brief taste of London’s famous sites, we didn’t stay long at the V&A so I am already planning a return visit but, as well as all the incredible exhibits that constantly drew my eyes up and around, I did make a point of looking down and so I couldn’t help but notice the incredible mosaic floors.

For my first ‘shoe selfie’ the design (photo above left) was a simple one but, as we visited other rooms within the museum, the mosaic designs just kept getting better and better. And I’ve now discovered that they have their own story to tell, a fascinating story of female convicts.

This is from a blog on the V&A’s website:

Starting in 1869, women from Woking Prison were employed in gangs. Using fragments of refuse marble, which they chipped into suitable sized pieces, they assembled blocks or ‘tiles’ of mosaic. These were then rubbed down to a level surface using a piece of York stone. The result became known as Opus Criminale.

The ‘Opus criminale’ was made by the women prisoners between about 1869 and 1873, following a design by Francis Wollaston Moody (1824-1886). Apparently, the idea of using convict labour, which was approved by the Home Secretary, was proposed by one Captain Du Cane, then a prison official, who went on to become ‘surveyor-general of prisons, chairman of the convict prison directors and inspector-general of military prisons’.   

Not all the museum’s mosaic floors were produced using prison labour: Moody’s designs, which included masks, sea creatures (like the dolphins included in the corner panel above) and geometric patterns, had originally been created for a landing on the West or Ceramic Staircase (now identified as Staircase I), which was crafted by the famous firm of Minton, Hollins & Company.   

Once that section had been completed, the designs were extended and the women prisoners’ work used for the additional floors, for the corridor between the Cast Courts (which is where I took the photo of the bearded man – possibly Poseidon), the cloister beneath the Sheepshanks Gallery (now the Museum bookshop), the Science Schools (now the Henry Cole Wing), and also for part of the V&A Museum of Childhood, a separate museum located in Bethnal Green.

So, if you get the chance to visit the Victoria and Albert Museum, do try to tear your eyes away from the wealth of stunning designs all around you to take a few moments to appreciate these remarkable floors.