At the unfashionable end of the Tower of London

I am back with the Tower of London.*

And this is one of those picture postcards which I can’t see having sold very well.

After all it is unlikely to appeal to the tourist who wanted to share the grandeur and the magic of the old fortress by the Thames with family and friends.

Nor I suspect would it capture the interest of to the average Londoner who might well have such a scene everyday on their way to work.

That said it is a wonderful record of a busy day on Tower Hill  and is another of those Fred Judge postcards dating from sometime before the Great War.

Picture; London on Tower Hill, Judge, courtesy of Mark Flynn Postcards, http://www.markfynn.com/london-postcards.htm


*Mark Flynn Postcards, http://www.markfynn.com/london-postcards.htm

At the Tower of London in the summer of 1955 and other childhood memories

Outside the Tower with Nana, 1955

I can’t say I remember this day at the Tower of London.

It would have been I think in the summer of 1955 and Nana would have been on one of her all too infrequent visits to London from Derby.

This will have been the first time I visited the place and pretty much set me on a love affair with the Tower which I have never lost.

Within a few years of this picture, I was doing the trip on a Saturday with anyone who would come with me and often on my own.

The journey began at Queens Road railway station which was an adventure all in itself.

The platform was up a tall flight of stairs past a nondescript booking counter which even then seemed past its best, and from the cracks in the wooden boards of the platform you could see down to the ground below.

The train took you into London Bridge past rows of houses, backstreet garages  and warehouses and the unmistakable landmark of the Peak Frean biscuit factory with that overpowering sweet smell which hung in the air even on a cold January day.

And then the terminus at London Bridge, the river and down that dark flight of stone steps to Lower Thames Street and the magical walk past Billingsgate to the Tower.

Peak Frean, 1891

Now Saturday morning was a good time to walk Lower Thames Street, the porters and traders had finished up and the street cleaners were out in force tidying away the refuse from the early morning trading which left bits of fish strewn across the road.

Even now I have not lost the memory of that all pervading fish smell which along with the stone sets in the road and the twisting side streets were almost as they had been a century before and with not much imagination could place you back in the same spot in the time of Pepys.

This of course was just a prelude to the Tower itself, which on a Saturday back in 1959 was free to children which was an opportunity I exploited to the full.

Perhaps it’s one of the down sides of my character that I could and still can revisit a place week after week, do the same tour, stop at the same places and continue to be totally absorbed in all there is to see.

The Tower, circa 15th century

And like most of us it was also the sheer excitement of touching the stones and climbing the narrow spiral staircases of the White Tower that transported me back to some moment in the high Middle Ages.

Then there was that musty cold and sometimes dank smell that came out of the stone work along with the absence of much natural light in some of the towers which added to the sense that here you were walking history.

Now they say you should never go back and on occasion returning to some magical place of my childhood has been a disappointment which somehow spoils what I remember.

Of course I try not to wallow in nostalgia and I am fully aware that the developers, the City of London and the custodians of the Tower were never going to let my childhood memories get in the way of their view of progress.

The River, the bridge and Lower Thames Street, 1872

So the Tower is far busier than I remember, the walk from the station over the river and along Lower Thames Street resembles little of what I saw as a child and the cranes, ocean going ships with the warehouses that flanked the river are now as much a bit of the past as is the swirling fog, costermonger’s cries and the smell of the fish market.

Ah well as they say nostalgia ain’t what it used to be.

Pictures; a young Andrew with Emilie Hall at the Tower, 1955, from the collection of Andrew Simpson, the Peak Frean poster derived from Kennington's painting The Toy Shop, of 1891. Wikipedia Commons, The White Tower, a depiction of the imprisonment of Charles, Duke of Orléans, in the Tower of London from a 15th-century manuscript. The White Tower is visible, St Thomas' Tower (also known as Traitor's Gate) is in front of it, and in the foreground is the River Thames.
late 15th century from a manuscript (British Library, MS Royal, 16 folio 73) of poems by Charles, Duke of Orléans (1391–1465),  Wikipedia Commoms and detail of the River Thames and Lower Thames Street from the OS of London, 1862-72, courtesy of Digital Archives Association, http://www.digitalarchives.co.uk/

An adventure, a fish market and the promise of some gruesome stories ..... Saturdays at the Tower of London part 1

Now the thing about adventures is that they are best done with friends.

It lessens the risks and more importantly offers up plenty of opportunities to relive the events which with the retelling become more exaggerated and all the more memorable.

That said there was always one place I did on my own and that was the Tower of London.

I may well have done the odd trip with Jimmy but I was best pleased when I did it alone which allowed me to explore the place for as long as I wanted, following  which ever guide took my fancy and above all just letting the walls, the stories and the exhibits work on my imagination.

And on a Saturday it was free to anyone under the age of 16 which meant that after buying the return ticket to London Bridge what was left of my pocket money could be spent on a packet of toffees and a couple of postcards of the Tower.

But as powerful an attraction as the place was it was just part of the day which began with the wait at Queens Road Station standing on the platform in the sky looking down between the gaps in the wooden floorboards at the ground below.

Once on the train there was the journey which got more exciting as the railway lines grew on either side offering up a shedload of other trains to stare at and making the arrival at London Bridge a pretty spectacular affair.

And there were all those flats, warehouses and factories to take in including the old Peak Frean biscuit plant which announced its presence by that thick sweet smell which lingered in the compartment long after the place had been passed.

But for me in anticipation of the Tower there was the walk across the old London Bridge with the warehouses fronting the south side of the river, each with their cranes and more often a ship lying alongside which was followed by the descent down a flight of dark steps to the Lower Road and the fish market

I usually got there around 10 on a Saturday by which time all the fish had been sold and apart from the odd porter there were just the men sweeping up.

That said there were still the odd bits of ice and discarded fish in the gutters and of course that all pervading smell.

A few hours earlier and the place would haven teeming with activity but even given the emptiness of the Lower Road there were those promising smaller roads including the one that led to the Monument which at the time had one of the best views across the City from its observational platform. And cost from memory 6d.

Not that I over dawdled around here for the prize was the Tower.

Pictures; The Tower of London , 2015 from the collection of Ryan Ginn and Billingsgate Fish Market, 1927, courtesy of MARK FLYNN POSTCARDS, http://www.markfynn.com/index.html

Half a century and more with the Tower of London

Now, if I could do the sums I might be able to decide if paying 15p for this guide book to the Tower of London in 1971 matches the going asking price of £4.99 today.

But I suspect it’s as silly as “trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum.”*

My copy is a reissue of the original which was published in 1967 and one I “borrowed” from our Stella and never returned.

During the late 1950s and into the early 1960s I regularly visited the Tower, often on my own and usually on a Saturday morning when admission was free to children and the numbers of visitors was still relatively small.

There was a ritual which started at Queens Road Railway Station and the train up to London Bridge, followed by a brief but intense gaze into the model shop under one the arches and the purchase of a packet of toffee Poppets and then the walk over the old London Bridge and down the Lower Road through Billingsgate market.

By 9.30 the frenetic business of selling was over, but the debris still littered the streets including bits of fish and ice and that all powerful smell.

I thought nothing of it and anyway it was soon left behind for the wonders of the Tower, containing the stories of those incarcerated, the graffiti they left in their cells and the heaps of armour on display.

Never underestimate the power of those thick stone walls to work their power on an imaginative ten your old.

I did occasionally go with friends, but it wasn’t the same as doing it on your own, when you could linger in favourite places, check that the displays were as you had left them the week before and just soak up the past.

Back then I didn’t bother with a guidebook which would have eaten into the week’s pocket money and then as now I preferred to find out for myself.  It’s an arrogance which has often led to me losing out on the significance of a place, a statue or a thing.

My 1971 book is filled with black and white photographs, and a dense text which my ten-year-old me would have found heavy going.

But looking through it again I have to confess it is full of interesting information, but it is a product of its time.

So there are 12 pictures of some of the most notable prisoners, but alas nothing on the more humble who found themselves inside the walls.

Nor is there any reference to what it would have been like to live and work there, which even then was a question I would have loved to ask.

Today the guidebooks and some of exhibits on display at many of our historic places will feature the living and working conditions of those who toiled in the kitchens, guarded the gates or just whiled away the hours between sunrise and sun set.

But perhaps I am being harsh and so with that thought I will close.

Leaving me just to reflect on the cover which I like and reminds me of much else of the art work around in the 1960s.

Of course today most of us will have checked out a museum on line either before or after a visit, but then at 10 in 1959 that wasn't an option.

Location; the Tower of London

Pictures; from The Tower of London Guidebook HMSO, 1971

*“Worrying about the future is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life will always be things that never crossed your worried mind.” Sunscreen, Baz Luhrmann, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTJ7AzBIJoI