Mayfield House – Bethnal Green

Building Conditions in Bethnal Green – Post 1945

“The immediate problem after the war was to house those whose homes had been bombed. Longer-term objectives were to complete and extend earlier clearance programmes in order to reduce the population density and separate industry from residential areas, as reaffirmed in the County of London Plan of 1943. Some 5,000 people lived in temporary housing, including requisitioned properties and hutments or mobile homes, prefabs, of which the L.C.C.’s first in East London were in Florida and Squirries streets. All but 15 of its 190 ‘prefabs’ were in use in 1955, together with 309 requisitioned properties; at least 48 mobile homes were still in use in 1966.  War damage had been repaired by 1953 and attention shifted to slum clearance; flats were to be allotted to those in cleared areas rather than by a waiting list. The L.C.C. and M.B. co-operated in drawing up five-year plans:  by 1954 there were 16,852 permanent homes of which 2,434 were unfit, 1,711 in the L.C.C.’s clearance areas and 675 in the M.B.’s, together with 48 individual houses. The L.C.C. demolished 510 and the M.B. 550 between 1956 and 1960 and the M.B. demolished another 151 unfit and 46 other houses in 1961-2. Most were replaced by municipal estates, although both councils also acquired sites scheduled for industry, business, or open space. It was estimated that to find a site and build an estate took six years.” 

Thanks to http://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/middx/vol11/pp135-147

The six-storeyed Mayfield House opened with 54 flats in 1964 on the east side of Cambridge Heath Road, south of the town hall.

Exploring London in an accidental and often tangential manner, often offers many surprises. Ostensibly in search of the V&A Museum of Childhood I tumbled into Mayfield House. The whole area, as can be seen in the above link, is home to several estates and homes, designed by the eminent architects du jour, Mayfield receives no such attribution, possibly the work of the borough office.

None the worse for that a building of some note, famously housing one of London’s first coin operated laundries, as seen in the promo video for The Streets – Dry your eyes.

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The flats also contain a Somalian Centre, Bethnal Green having been home, for many years to Somali seamen – the subject of a recent photographic exhibition by Sarah Ainslie

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Photographs copyright © Sarah Ainslie

Ali Mohammed Adan – Seaman

“I first came to London by ship in March 1958. I stayed in Aldgate for a night and went to Newport where my cousin had a house. There are many Somalis there. From that day until I retired in 1990, I was in the Merchant Navy, and I brought my family over from Somaliland. In 1970, I moved back to London to Bethnal Green but my wife and daughters chose to stay in Newport.

In Somaliland, I owned over a hundred camels and sheep. Nobody keeps camels anymore, everyone sold them and moved to the city. They say, ‘It’s too much work.’ But keeping camels and sheep and living on a farm, it’s a good life because you eat every day. Everybody wants to do it again now.”

 

An intriguing structure with a dominant grid on the front elevation, sharp signage, extravagant exterior rear stairs, modular concrete screened, low-level car parking and a recently enclosed glassed gallery.

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London – city of surprising surprises.

 

Best Launderette – Brunswick Street Manchester

I was out walking on the corner one day.

I spied some old washing.

In the doorway it lay.

Well there was a doorway, but no door.

There was a door, but not attached to the doorway.

Well there was washing, I had inadvertently found the Best Laundrette.

Unattended, seemingly unloved, washing spinning happily, unobserved.

Guantanamo orange walls, stormy petrol blue sky linoleum floor.

Lit by several stark, bare fluorescent tubes.

I quickly went about my business, made my excuses to myself and left.

 

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Oldham Street – Manchester 2016

Following my previous post of archival images of Oldham Street, I took a walk along its length a week ago, to record what remained of the post war past.

Gone again the blackened façades, exuberant and differentiated signage.

Woolworth’s burnt out long ago, never to return, exit also C&A, don’t forget your coat and hat.

Affleck’s – same name different place.

Yates’s three down none to go, the last all-in is all out.

Three pubs prevail, some serving craft ale to the not so crafty.

Methodist Main Hall is mainly well-used and well, loved.

In low Winter light the upper floors dance in shadow and sun-glow, against a brighter than bright blue sky.

A crazy range of saw-toothed roof tops colliding.

Oldham Street survives.

 

 

 

Oldham Street – Manchester

In the early 18th century, Oldham Street was apparently:

“An ill-kept muddy lane, held in place on one of its sides by wild hedgerows”.

In 1772, a privately owned track which is now known as Oldham Street was given to the public. The road took its name from Adam Oldham rather than from the place name. He was an acquaintance of John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, which could account for the Oldham street location of the Methodist Chapel, opened by Wesley in 1781. Central Hall replaced the Chapel in 1885.

The area around Oldham Street became more affluent, with warehouses and shops, many of whose merchants lived within their shop premises. This is described by Isabella Varley, Mrs. Linnaeus Banks, a resident of Oldham Street, in her book The Manchester Man.

One Oldham Street shopowner mentioned by a number of writers is Abel Heywood, who spearheaded the mass distribution of books, supplying the whole country not only with penny novels, but also with educational books and political pamphlets. Heywood went on to become Mayor of Manchester.

The general well to do, mix of hustle and bustle, pubs, warehousing, grand stores, smaller specialist shops and services continued into the 1970’s. Woolworths, C&A, Affleck and Browns, Cantors, Dobbins attracted a steady flow of happy shoppers, I loved the mongrel nature of the mixed use architecture.

The focus if the city centre then slipped away to the newly built Arndale and pedestrianised Market Street.

Oldham Street awaited a new sense of place and purpose.

With thanks to http://www.manchester.gov.uk/info/448/archives_and_local_history/326/historical_photographs_of_manchester

 

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Liverpool – The New Penny Farthing

89 Roe St – tucked into the side of the sprawling St John’s Centre car park and a cosily withdrawn corner of the Royal Court Theatre.

The New Penny Farthing.

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A name which instantly evokes arcane loose change and strange bicycles.

Each time as I pass I’m drawn in, yet never enter.

Amazed by the array of ever changing signage, happy hours abound.

It’s a happy house, we’re happy here.

A dark drinking den awaits within, the daytime drinker abides, imbibing.

Stay new.

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Precinct – Stalybridge

The dissipated filling, in an Aldi and Tesco sandwich, a flat roofed, concrete and brick sixties shopping development, a precinct.

Small towns typically comprise of several retail developments, of various vintages, chasing diminishing returns, in ever expanding rectangles.

Stalybridge is no exception, once a bustling mill town, it sought salvation in a hedonistic mini-break by the River Tame, party industry.

Stalyvegas.

The bright lights of the society of the spectacle, now extinguished, burnt brightly in Bar Liquid, Club Rififi, H2O and Amber Lounge.

Walking the streets today, a meagre spread of shoppers, hardened daytime drinkers and lost souls.

Bids were made for a Portas Pilot, Mary contrarily resisted.

The Northern Powerhouse hits the buffers.

The Buffet prevails.

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Launderette – Stalybridge

Tucked away in an arcade, far from Arcadian – not far from Baz’s Off Licence.

The launderette.

Yet another testament to the partial persistence of industrial technology.

No Longer in Use.

A happy hotch-potch of signs, surfaces and sixties design.

Informal formica, stripped bare strip lighting, wobbly laminate walls.

Watch and wait, whilst the World and your washing whirl.

 

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Ups ‘n’ Downs – Stockport

Ups ‘n’ Downs, it’s had its share of ups and downs.

Quite literally – the former Wellington Inn has an upside facing onto the busy A6 Wellington Road, and a downside opening onto Mersey Square.

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Its fortunes similarly something of a rollercoaster ride, from busy town centre pub, to edgy pseudo-club, populated by late night uniformed bus drivers, swaying on the metre square dance floor.

Latterly something of a disco party bus, going nowhere fast.

Known variously as Glitz, Bentley’s and the Bees Knees.

Finally, partial occupation by a forlorn pound shop – defying economic trends by closing.

An architectural curiosity and a blank faced, gap toothed greeting to the Town’s visitors, there is talk of conversion to flats under the council’s stewardship.

It seems like up to me.

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The Whetstone – Sheffield

Confusion

Fusion

Confusion

Imagine

A single storey brick built street corner boozer, it’s not so hard to do.

It’s Sheffield let’s call it the Whetstone, how appropriate.

Bored?

How about the Moorfoot Tavern?

Sounds classy, that’ll do.

Well it did until it didn’t, somehow it migrates south, then west.

Paris Texas – how about Rome Mexico Yorkshire?

El Paso it is then –

 

The Tudor Café – Stockport

On Lower Hillgate, almost next door to where it used to be, there stands The Tudor Café.

Almost where it has almost always stood.

Other businesses have come and gone, happily it prevails.

The cheapest tastiest grub in town.

An interior festooned with tea towels.

Tables polka dotted, teas hot.

Signs inside and out, some of them inside out.

Greetings from Gdansk.

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Post Office Tower

The man from BT he says “No!”

I only asked.

Everyone’s life is towered over by one obsessive dream or other.

So why not have an overpowering, towering dream of a Tower?

I asked to come in, he said no.

What was once ours, opened in 1965 by PM Harold Wilson at the behest of Tony Benn, was sold by PM Margaret Thatcher.

– “It’s good to talk.”

It’s bad to gift ownership of other peoples’ towers to other people, in the name of “popular capitalism.”

So I dry my eyes, pick myself up and engage in an immersive therapy, absorbing the visual culture of the seemingly unobtainable Tower – like an eternally embittered Rapunzel in reverse.

Washeteria – Hastings

Don’t forget to forget.

Big is not large, not small.

This is a dirty blue,  washed-out pale yellow, Alice in Wonderland un-wonderful land.

Time will not stand still – you’re in a spin, oh what a spin that you’re in.

Walk in, wash and wish.

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Launderette – London Road St Leonards

Mid blue linoleum tiles, patched here there.

And everywhere.

Signs

Everywhere.

In an uncertain universe, you can almost always rely on the launderette, to guide you on life’s soapy journey, through a complex series of immutable do’s and don’ts, arrows, slots, buttons and bows.

Giant is the new big is the new large.

I feel so small.

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The Wash Inn – Hastings

Standing alone in an unattended laundrette can be a chilling experience, a heightened state of awareness abounds, accentuating that all pervasive absence of presence.

The unseen hand, that write the notes, that speak to you in emphatic hurried caps, pinned or taped precisely on the walls.

The ghosts of clothes, still warm, now gone.

A Proust defying amalgam of aromas, that almost fills the air.

Just you and a series of slots, demotic instructions, care worn utilitarian surfaces and time.

Wash Inn get out.

Okehampton – Car Wash and Go

Early morning on the A30 out of Okehampton and something is beginning to stir.

Two inscrutable Romanians and a curious garrulous traveller are going about their respective business.

They – filling buckets and arranging a complex array of cleaning fluids.

Me –  just mooching with a compact camera.

Initially expressing an understandable resistance to my snappy ways, their consent was granted, following a series of complex hand gestures, smiles, and an open and honest request.

Moments later my job was done and theirs had just begun.

Wash and go!

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Pottons – Cliftonville Margate

Should you, as I did wander down Northdown Road, Cliftonville, you will chance upon Pottons at 262.

By now however, ingress is more than somewhat inhibited.

It’s closed.

The most exciting and extant period fascia, once gave way to oak fittings and fixtures festooned with all manner of menswear, exotic and plain accoutrements, now inaccessible.

It’s gone.

A few sad remnants were on sale, administered in their final days by Lorraine, employed for 35 years in a family business, whose trade had once included made to measure, fine millinery and quality accessories for the discerning gent around town.

No more.

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Laundrette – Rhayader

There is a sign.

An Illuminated sign.

There are signs.

Handwritten signs – notices, instructions, scribbled hurriedly, underlined, highlighted, boxed for emphasis.

Taped up.

There are machines, top loaders, best left half empty.

Terrazzo floor, leatherette banquette.

Out of disorder comes out of order.

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Close the door when you leave

Eastbourne – The View Hotel

Standing immutable on the south coast seafront is the View Hotel, forever almost changing.

A seventies delight of exuberant geometry, tiled detail, protruding balconies and audacious window frames.

Its confidence is overwhelming.

Recently refurbished this trade union run hotel and conference centre has preserved much of its period  interior detail, a swirling spiral stairway, unique circular light fittings, dark hardwood fittings and furnishings.

Suitable setting for high espionage or low talking.

Swept along by the verve, vivacity and capacious volume, I suggest you take a peak.

http://www.theviewhoteleastbourne.com

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