A Rambler’s London

We tend to wander around cities as we travel; visiting a museum or cathedral usually means a walk to it, or from it, or around its neighborhood. Rambling that way gives us a fuller picture of the city, its life, its culture and its past.

It also usually gives us a collection of pictures that are part of our image of the city, without fitting into any the blogs I write. And so, I finish my London with a gallery of the leftovers, some poignant, some quirky or surprising, and some just pleasant to remember.

And here they are, starting at the top and just above with one of my favorite churches anywhere, St Helen’s Bishopsgate, a church with roots into the 12th century, and an active congregation today. Only Westminster Abbey has more monuments in it; when Shakespeare lived in London, it was his parish church. The 1663 door is a “new” addition to the building. I’m fascinated with how it holds its own against such a diverse background of modern growth.

Old and new is not the only contrast, of course; plain and fancy can be found side-by-side in many parts of the city, as above. But fancy, or at least stylish, is usually a better eye-catcher than plain. A few with nice touches:

Of course, the sculpted pediment is only one of many forms of decorative art to be found along the way.

Here are some sculptures to be seen at Somerset House, once home of all of Britain’s vital records, and now home of the Courtaulds Gallery. The figure above is George III along with Father Thames. We Americans have to keep remembering he’s not the devil in England he’s painted in America!

This one is not sculpture, and, I was about to say, not a work of art. But why should the fact that its humble role is as a grate for a heating system in Somerset House make it “not a work of art?”

After all, not all the public art on pedestals in London is ceremonial or memorial. Here’s an assortment of fruit near the Spitalfields Market, and a squawking bird near the Wapping Docks.

Back to the thorny question of what is art: When the makers of Oxo broth extract turned a derelict power station into a towered cold warehouse in the 1920s, they were denied permission to put an ad on their tower; advertising along the Thames skyline was a no-no. But, the builder said, this is not a sign; these are artistically pleasing windows. The windows stayed, but despite numerous art and architecture awards, the building is still denied landmark status.

Sometimes my rambling leads me to pictures where it is less the subject than the angle or combination of elements that makes me want to keep it, as in these two…one of St Paul’s looking up from the river bank, and the other under a bridge nearby.

The river itself shows up in lots of pictures, far too many to be of use. The ones I like most show the working river in the middle of the city. London’s great docks have long since moved downstream, but the river is still at work.

And there are other hints of the river’s and the city’s past; here’s a surprise we spotted while passing on a river ferry: a working replica of Sir Francis Drake’s galleon, the Golden Hinde. Docked at Pickford’s Wharf, it doubles as a museum and as an adventure excursion ship.

Also along the river, a poignant reminder of past times: the police call box, a memory from so many mysteries and films, stands along the Embankment, with a polite note to seek help elsewhere, at a pay phone. Below: a bank of iconic red British phone boxes, also vanishing day by day.

And buskers. London has more than a few, ranging from serious musicians to street clowns to mysterious presences…or perhaps absences?

Unusual buildings are in good supply; many of them appear in other blogs, but these two are for good measure. The Harrods’ warehouse at Hammersmith seems to me to combine commerce and stateliness in a beautiful way.

Waiting for after-work hours, a pub with a very long bar and tables…

When you have to post a sign like this, you know your neighborhood has a, well, reputation. This one’s in Soho.

We stopped to take this picture…but most of the pedestrians with us near Victoria station didn’t even stop when the light turned red and cars began shoving into the intersection.

A touching, and all-too-rare, reminder that the great names that are most often inscribed on monuments and cornerstones are not all there is to life in London, although they get most of the display. Below, on a fence in Regent’s Park, a marker that George V’s 25th year on the throne led to some new park features.

Only a few blocks apart: the quiet mews in St Johns Wood where we rented a tiny apartment, and the bustling and heavily South Asian scene on Edgeware Road.