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Team meeting to brainstorm, discuss and align on Across RCA presentation

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It's one of the most dramatic transformations London has ever seen

The story of what happened at Canary Wharf is a familiar one to most Londoners. The incredibly prosperous West India Docks imported goods from all over the world, like spices from India, pepper from Ceylon, sugars from Jamaica.

It was a mainstay of the British Empire which grew to dominate more than a quarter of the globe. Then as that empire declined in the 20th Century and the docks were moved downstream to Tilbury, wharves and buildings were left lost and derelict.

Then in the 1980s, the Greater London Council (GLC) began to work with developers to completely transform the area, building huge skyscrapers, office blocks and apartments that turned it into a second financial heart of London. It's fascinating to look back now at pictures of how the area has changed so dramatically.
READ MORE: Extraordinary pictures of London's derelict hospitals that were left to wither
From old wooden galleons tied up at docksides unloading cargoes of spices, to empty desolate quaysides and then shiny office blocks, just take a look at one of London's most incredible transformations.

You can find out much more about the history of docks at a new exhibition called "London Port City" at the Museum of London Docklands.
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Incredible pictures show Canary Wharf before it was filled with skyscrapers

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It's one of the most dramatic transformations London has ever seen The story of what happened at Canary Wharf is a familiar one to most Londoners. The incredibly prosperous West India Docks imported goods from all over the world, like spices from India, pepper from Ceylon, sugars from Jamaica.

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The War to Live in London: Regeneration Game (Part 1/3)

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Ask anyone about what comes to mind when they think of the West End of London and they'll likely tell you that it's the prime destination for the best in theatre shows and a night on the town. Now, it is both of those things, but it is so much more than that and here we're going to take a brief look at just some of the history that came to pass in the area to make it what it is today.

By reading on, you'll realise that it is most certainly a fantastic place to catch a show and enjoy a good meal, but also an area of London's capital that's seen its fair share of tumult. So if you're ready, let's take a step back a few hundred years into London's murky past.

West of the City, North of the River Thames

The term 'the West End' is an abbreviation of The West End of London and it describes a specific area of Central London that's to the North of the famous River Thames. Geographically speaking, the area is comprised of Camden and Westminster and it sits, unsurprisingly, to the West of the centre of the centuries-old capital. Interestingly, the West End became a popular locale with the rich folk of medieval London, as the prevailing wind there usually blew downwind, keeping the choking smoke of central London away.

It was also a locality that was home to the Palace of Westminster - a royal seat at the time and now home to the iconic houses of parliament. Over the course of 300 years, covering the 17th to the 19th century, more and more palaces and townhouses for the rich elite were built, displacing what had been poor communities in Covent Garden, Holborn and Seven Dials.

In truth, before the elite of London became interested in the area, there wasn't much to speak of in London and the catalyst of change and development came in the form of the Great Fire of London in 1666, which famously started in Pudding Lane, near London Bridge. This pivotal moment history proved to be a turning point for the West End and without it, we might see a very different look to the district today.

Leicester Square

With Covent Garden and its bustling markets to the East and Piccadilly Circus and all of its attractions to the West, Leicester Square sits right in the heart of the West End. Like much of the area, it had much humbler beginnings, even being noted as a place to simply dry clothes and graze horses back in the 17th century. A map exists that's carved from wood named 'Civitas Londinium' and it portrays the area being something of a grassy meadow - a far cry from the bright lights and busy streets we see today.

It wasn't until 1670 when the pedestrianised square was laid out and given its official name after the 2nd Earl of Leicester and his residence - Leicester House. Over the ensuing years, it turned into a residential area populated primarily by the middle class, with Karl Marx, Joshua Reynolds and Frederick, Prince of Wales noted as some of its more famous inhabitants.

This upward mobility didn't last forever, however, as Leicester House was pulled down at the end of the 1700s and the area became much more like its previous down-market self. In its place, dozens of retail establishments were created, followed by a multitude of theatres over the next 150 years. Many of the cinemas that exist in Leicester Square today are housed in the same buildings created during this period.

It's certainly true to say that the face of Leicester Square has experienced a great amount of change in its long history.

Piccadilly Circus

The area known as Piccadilly Circus is best known for its large neon billboards and video screens but despite its name, it isn't and never has been home to any circus of any kind. This famed area of London is actually just a junction that links the Haymarket, Coventry Street, Shaftesbury Avenue, Piccadilly and Regent Street and the 'Circus' part simply refers to the roundabout that once existed there, as 'circus' is a Latin translation of the word 'circle'. The roundabout is no longer there, but the name endures.

The junction itself was built back in 1812 and because of its prime location and proximity to so many top-class entertainment venues, it has become a tourist destination in its own right. The Piccadilly part of the junction's name has its origins back in the 17th century, as Roger Baker, a tailor who made his fortune making Piccadills (a popular frilled collar fashion item of the day) lived in the area, and so the full name that's so familiar to so many today, was born.

The locale is also home to the Criterion Theatre, the London Pavilion Theatre and the Shaftesbury Memorial Fountain Statue, which ironically is best known for being something that it's not. Many believe the monument that was built in 1892 to be Eros, the Greek God of chaos, but whilst it does feature a winged cherubic figure brandishing a bow and arrow, it's actually something entirely different. It's actually a statue of Anteros and was erected to commemorate the philanthropic work of Lord Shaftesbury, a man who challenged the concept of child factory labour, so common at the time.

Arguably the area of the West End that is steeped in the most history is that of Covent Garden, a place where you'll find markets selling all manner of hand-made goods, antiquities and fine fashion items. The area's history can be traced back to the early 1500s, with its name originally being known as Convent Garden, due to it being the location of Westminster Abbey's vegetable garden, tended by the monks who called it home.

It stayed that way until 1536 when King Henry VIII - a staunch opponent of the Catholic Church - dissolved England's monasteries, seizing the land in the process. The King gifted the land to one of his friends, with the area changing hands a number of times before it finally came into the possession of John Russell, whose official title was the 1st of Bedford. After unsuccessfully trying to sell the land in the early 1600s, it passed to the 4th Earl of Bedford - Francis Russell.

It was Francis that began the area's transformation into what it is today, as, in an attempt to create an income from the land, he commissioned Inigo Jones, a noted Royal architect, to build a square development of homes ' fit for gentlemen with ability '. The ensuing square was the first piazza of its kind in England's Capital city and it's widely regarded as being the inception of the famous thoroughfare that exists today.

Although the locale that has since become known as Covent Garden was still relatively sparsely populated and by the time the mid-1600s came around, markets began to appear there with increasing regularity. It was perhaps the fact that it was only frequented by wealthy folk that it escaped the worst effects of the plague in 1665 and it was fortunate enough to remain untouched by the aforementioned Great Fire of London that claimed so much of the city just a year later.

A massive influx of people to Covent Garden occurred due to 7/8ths of the homes in London being destroyed and this caused a rapid expansion in commerce and trade, leading to King Charles II granting Covent Garden a Royal Charter in 1670. The Great Fire of London was a traumatic event for so many of London's inhabitants, but without it, Covent Garden almost certainly wouldn't exist as it does today.

Trafalgar Square

Another example of the rich history of the West End of London lies in Trafalgar square, which sits in the heart of the City of Westminster. The area used to be known as Charing Cross before being renamed to commemorate Lord Nelson's victory in the Napoleonic battle of the same name. The significance of the area actually dates back to the 1400s, as it was originally the official site of the King's Mews (another name for stables).

After King George IV relocated the King's Mews to Buckingham Palace, the area was redeveloped by John Nash to mark Nelson's achievements, however, it was some years before it was completed. By 1844 the square saw one of its main features installed - the 169-foot tall column with Lord Nelson sitting at the very top. The monument, surrounded by four majestic lions is one of several monuments in Trafalgar square, with the fourth plinth - vacant since the mid-1840s - now being used to display contemporary art.

No history of the West End would be complete without covering the centuries of thespian activity that has occurred there. As early as 1663, the Theatre Royal on Drury Lane was built at the request of Thomas Killigrew - a noted theatre manager and dramatist of his time. This is the longest-standing theatre in the West End, officially going by the name of the Theatre Royal when it first opened.

It wasn't until 1806 that the next major theatre was built in the West End. The Sans Pareil, now known as the Adelphi Theatre was built with £10,000 of playwright John Scott's money and the majority of the shows and entertainment performed were actually written by his daughter, Jane M Scott.

Fast forward another 83 years and we see the Garrick and Lyric Theatres open, with the Garrick being built over an old Roman river. Whilst the Lyric is the oldest theatre found on Shaftesbury Avenue, the Garrick is one of the smallest you'll find in the area.

By the time the 20th century arrived, Theatreland was in full swing, with the longest-running show in theatre history - the Mousetrap - opening for the first time in 1952 at the Ambassadors Theatre. In its 60+ years, more than 10 million people have seen the show and this number is still rising, as it's still going strong today. When you also consider that the West End is the home of other epic shows like Les Miserables opening in 1986 and the Phantom of the Opera in 1990, it's clear that the area has been and still remains as a hub of theatrical excellence. It will likely still be going strong in another 100 years time.

Located in Mayfair, Savile Row is a street in the West End that's synonymous with fine suits and the cream of the crop when it comes to men's tailoring. It's an area with a rich history that extends far beyond the realms of fashion, however, with the street at one point being home to the HQ of the Royal Geographical Society - an organisation that concerned itself with planning and executing expeditions to the South Pole and deepest, darkest Africa. Savile Row has even seen pop royalty that is the Beatles perform live for the final ever time on the roof of their tour offices. It's a street that has seen an awful lot.

Once going by the name of Savile Street, it originally formed part of the Burlington Estate development that was built over the course of four years and completed in 1735. The architecture in the area has a strong Anglo-Irish influence coming from the Boyles, whose males provided the lineage for the Earls of Burlington a.k.a. The Duke of Devonshire. Designed primarily by architect Henry Flitcroft, this famous street was initially home to the officers from England's military, with politician, William Pitt the Younger one of its most notable residents.

It wasn't until the turn of the 19th century that the street became associated with the tailoring profession with the adjacent Cork Street being the first to house professional tailors and Savile Row following suit shortly after. By the time the late 1840s came to pass, Savile Row had truly established itself, with the likes of Henry Poole - inventor of the tuxedo - extending his premises on Burlington Street to include an entrance on Savile Row.

Since that day Savile Row has remained known as the home of fine tailoring and even once was responsible for manufacturing the dress uniforms for the officers of the British military throughout the First World War. Today you'll find the likes of Henry Poole & Co, Gieves & Hawkes and Cad & The Dandy as some of the most prestigious names in the tailoring industry.

Reaching from Marble Arch to Tottenham Court Road, Oxford Street is synonymous with high-end retail and boasts the title of ' Europe's busiest Street '. Upwards of half a million visitors flock to Oxford Street each and every day, all looking for the best shopping experience in London, however, this is a far cry from its much more sinister beginnings.

Oxford Street started off life as part of a Roman Road known as ' Via Trinobantina ' that linked Hampshire and Essex and it cut right through the heart of London. Going on to be known as Tyburn Road during the Middle Ages when it was best known for being the location of public hangings, it would finally become known as Oxford Street in the 1700s when it began to move from residential to commercial use.

Initially attracting low-end market and street traders, prostitutes and confidence tricksters, Oxford Street would slowly move upmarket over the next century or so, with the first major department stores like John Lewis and Selfridges appearing in the early 1900s. What you'll notice walking down Oxford Street today is that despite being home to the cream of retail in the UK, they sit side by side with less salubrious retail outlets, showing that not everything has changed since those early days.

The Blitz of World War II hit London hard and Oxford Street did not get off lightly. Several established department stores, including big names like John Lewis, saw their buildings levelled by German bombing raids, resulting in them being completely rebuilt from the bottom up. As a testament to the undying spirit of resilience and rebirth, Oxford Street has bounced back to its present-day status as one of the most popular tourist and shopping destinations in the world.

Just around the corner from Oxford Street, you'll find Regent Street, which isn't too shabby when talking about shopping either. Home to the likes of Hamleys Toy Store, Burberry, Apple's flagship London store and prestigious perfumiers Penhaligon's, you could easily spend a day shopping exploring everything there is to see on Regent Street, but unlike some other major roads in the centre of London, its history only goes back some 200 years.

Noted Georgian architect John Nash worked with property developer James Burton to lay out the foundations of modern-day Regent Street, which was named after the then Prince Regent, George IV. Running from St James's to Waterloo Place, this major thoroughfare passes through Oxford Circus and Piccadilly Circus to All Souls Church.

Representing an early form of town planning, the layout of Regent Street was finalised in the mid-1820s and it is one that remains to this day in the original dimensions set down by Burton and Nash. All the buildings have been pretty much rebuilt since then but this has allowed the area to become known as a place for serious shoppers to visit. It might be a lot younger than Oxford Street, but Regent Street can certainly be spoken about in the same breath when talking about premium retail therapy.

Linking Oxford Street to Piccadilly, Bond Street might not have the sheer volume of retail-seeking visitors that the previous two West End streets we've spoken about, but it's no less prestigious. It was once home to major retail in the 1700 hundreds, with the top fashion outlets of the day selling expensive and luxurious items to the rich and powerful.

Technically speaking, Bond Street is made up of two parts; New Bond Street to the North and Old Bond Street to the south. However, whilst this still remains an empirical fact, it's not used in common parlance. The road has a history that goes back to the early 18th century at a time when the area was still but fields in the Piccadilly area that encircled Clarendon House

Sir Thomas Bond was the driving force behind the building of Bond Street and by the time the 18th century came to an end, it had become a preferred socialising spot by Mayfair's upper-class community. The area enjoyed this popularity amongst the well-to-do, but it went on to experience a period of retail decline with the emergence of the might of Oxford Street.

Whilst it might lag slightly behind Oxford Street in terms of sheer numbers, it still attracts large amounts of retail visitors thanks to the presence of major department stores like Tiffanys and Fenwick, with the added benefit of being the home to major auction houses like Bonham and Sotheby's. Some of the most expensive items ever sold have passed through Sotheby's, like the CTF Pink Star diamond which went for almost £58m. Its position as a prestigious area of the West End is assured, making Bond Street buildings some of the most valuable real estate in the world.

Known as a pedestrianised thoroughfare and a great place to do some clothes shopping, Carnaby Street sits parallel to Regent Street in the middle of Soho. It's home to a myriad of fashion retailers and boutiques and is certainly one of the trendiest places to visit in the capital. It's a highly cultural place that's very 'now', but its history dates back to the late 17th century circa 1685 when things were very different.

The street derives its name from the very first house that existed there - Karnaby House. The street itself was laid out by Richard Tyler - a noted 17th century bricklayer and it was also during the 17th century that Carnaby Street was home to victims of the Great Plague, as it became the first places in London to have a 'Pest House' or 'Plague House' where those afflicted with the lethal illness were housed.

Moving forward to the 1720s, Carnaby Street was repurposed into a meat, vegetable and fish market which began life as Lowndes Market, before being renamed to Carnaby Market. For more than a century, things remained very much 'as you were' until Regent Street's creation in 1823 cut it and the larger area of Soho off from the prestigious London area of Mayfair.

Soho was also the location of one of the most notable and unfortunate events in history, as the major cholera outbreak of 1854 started there. A single water pump in Broadwick Street, just a short skip and a jump from Carnaby Street, was the source of the outbreak and it continued to infect everyone who drank from it until it was identified by epidemiologist, John Snow.

Since those dark days, Carnaby Street has grown and flourished into one of the premier fashion shopping destinations in London with Vince, the first boutique offering menswear opening in the area in the mid 1950s. This was no ordinary menswear outfitters either, as it included Jimi Hendrix, the Kinks, the Rolling Stones and the Beatles amongst its many celebrity patrons.

Today, Carnaby Street has lost none of its vibrancy and lustre and it remains a 'must-visit' place for anyone finding themselves in the West End of London.

The area of the West End known as Seven Dials was the brainchild of 17th century MP Thomas Neale who laid the distinctive triangular foundations in a bid to maximise the amount of houses that could be built there and in turn, maximise the rental income he could make.

The centre of Seven Dials itself sits at a junction between four different streets; Earlham Street ( formerly Little & Great Earl Street), Mercer Street ( formerly Little & Great White Lyon Street), Monmouth Street ( Little & Great St Andrew's Street) and Short's Gardens ( formerly Queen Street). When it was built, Seven Dials was intended to attract upmarket residents and the pillar that still sits at the centre of Seven Dials was both constructed and designed by Edward Pierce, London's foremost stonemason at the time.

Seen as one of the capital's greatest monuments, the Sundial Pillar, which itself features six sundial faces, completed the design and it's this layout that still remains today. However, the high-end vision that Thomas Neale had for the area never materialised and it descended into a slum that was primarily known for its gin retailers. Interestingly, at one time, there were seven public houses facing the monument whose vaults and cellars connected, offering a handy escape route to anyone who needed it.

Seven Dials remained in a state of poverty for over a hundred years, with many Irish workers flocking to the area in search of a cheap place to live. It wasn't unusual at the time for large families of 6 or 7 people to live in a single room in the streets of Seven Dials, but little did residents there know that eventually, the gentrification of the area that Neale craved would be realised.

By the mid to late 19th century, the surrounding areas of Seven Dials were developed, attracting a higher class of clientele. The popularity of the West End's theatres drew many to the locale, which slowly made the area more attractive to businesses and craftsmen, leading to many moving in and setting up shop there. Since that time, Seven Dials has been home to commerce of all shapes and sizes, with ironmongers, flower markets and restaurants appearing all across the area, as well as those interested in the occult who find meaning in the sundial symbolism of the geographical layout.

Today, Seven Dials is a commercial hive of activity and anyone walking down its streets will see plaques dedicated to some of its most notable former residents. The studios of the great Monty Python Studios were located here, as well as Brian Epstein - the former manager of the Beatles. However, although its come a long way since its poverty-stricken days in the 17th and 18th centuries, echoes of its past still remain in the architecture, much of which remains unchanged.

It may not be as well-known as some of the more salubrious areas of the West End, but it surely had a colourful history.

An Iconic Location Visited by Millions

This has been but a mere slice of the rich and varied history of the West End. We really could write page after page after page on what makes the this iconic part of London unlike any other place on earth, as there are so many notable events to cover.

The millions of people who flock to the West End are rightly dazzled by the flashing lights, high-class entertainment and top-class shopping that it offers, but there are perhaps not that many who understand the centuries of history that provide the backdrop to these modern-day wonders.

There's an old saying by Sir Isaac Newton that states " if I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants " and it applies, at least in part to the West End of London, as without the events that have gone before, it would not be the thriving, iconic, world-renowned tourist destination that it is today.

And that absolutely should never be forgotten.

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History of the West End of London | WestEnd.com

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Ask anyone about what comes to mind when they think of the West End of London and they'll likely tell you that it's the prime destination for the best in theatre shows and a night on the town.

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A short film about the secret socialist history of Monopoly, the game we all know and hate.

Credits:

Directed and Animated by: Dan Stankler
Sound & Music: Harm Esterhuisen
Music Supervision: David Maine
Narrator: Jensen Olaya
Writer: Jeanette Moreland, David Oks
Producer: Reid Hildebrand

Special thanks to Mike and Whitney Gravel!

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An Englishman's home is his castle. When that phrase was first coined, King Charles I was on the throne and would occasionally take ownership of castles within the realm by force. The modern day equivalent is Compulsory Purchase.

The nobles and other rich landowners of the time have been replaced, mostly with the working class, living on Council estates under threat of demolition.

On one side of the fight are the residents under threat of losing their homes. Vocabulary such as social cleansing and gentrification are commonplace as the working class are often priced out of areas where sky scrapers and plush apartments are built. On the other side are the local council and often a development partner. They'll often suggest that the old run down estates are past their sell by date and that regeneration can provide the additional housing that everyone agrees is needed.

When schemes work well, the new properties are populated by the affluent middle class, punctuated by residents from the old estate and first time buyers, stepping on the housing ladder thanks to the government's popular Help to Buy scheme. Where schemes work badly, residents on the old estate cry that they are being forced out with nowhere to go.

Dan Knowles is a Chartered Surveyor working for a property consultancy called Sawyer Fielding. Unusually, he got involved with helping residents under threat of Compulsory Purchase after losing his own home, years ago. Working in this area brings huge challenges, both emotionally and technically.

On Tuesday 15th March, BBC 1 showed a documentary called 'The Estate We're In' which highlighted the plight of residents on the West Hendon Estate in North London. Leaseholders were being offered close to half the value of their homes and many tenants were being evicted and housed in temporary accommodation all over London. Dan whose company acted on behalf of most of the leaseholders commented "negotiations were long and challenging but we finally reached a fair outcome."

Many estates aren't as lucky though. The documentary suggests that there are 90 estates undergoing regeneration. Companies like Dan's can only help a small number. He's known some residents lose out through not knowing how to protect themselves.

One estate that is more fortunate is the South Acton Estate, Ealing Council's largest. Dan's company joined forces with a residents group headed by the formidable leaseholder, Betty Lajanska. They negotiated significantly improved offers for leaseholders. In a helpful step forward, Ealing Council and its development partner Acton Gardens have recently started offering new-build properties on the estate to those having to sell to them.

Whilst some estates in London are seeing angry residents protest against gentrification and social cleansing, at South Acton, collaborative working to make regeneration work for everyone is making for a far smoother ride. So far at least!

As for Dan's company, they realise they are in a privileged position, being able to help large numbers of residents. Their 'Sawyer Fielding Gives Back' service has just made its third charity donation in as many months. It all started with a £4000 donation to our own Charity of the Year, Acton Homeless Concern.

'The Estate We're In' is still available on BBC IPlayer and on Youtube. As resident Jackie says to the camera, "anywhere there's a council estate in London, they're coming to you next!"

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Special Feature: South Acton Estate - Social Cleansing or improving neighbourhoods?

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An Englishman's home is his castle. When that phrase was first coined, King Charles I was on the throne and would occasionally take ownership of castles within the realm by force. The modern day equivalent is Compulsory Purchase.

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How to think about breathing life into a project by Bruce HG (edited excerpt from a written submission to MA RCA Writing)

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How to think about breathing life into a project by Bruce HG (edited excerpt from a written submission to MA RCA Writing)

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When heading somewhere new, agency is all you have, it’s a step into the unknown, a journey of discovery, new scenes, new people, new landscapes, and perhaps a new you. Staccato insurrection, our thoughts and words step across themselves. No one ends an effort in life the same shape they began it, our frictions with the world shape us, sculpt us, and we leave pieces of ourselves in each moment, echoes in eternity, shadows of lives passed. The beauty of life is that we can share a journey, a collective moment, an experience bringing connectivity and simply put, a mutually inclusive moment of communal agency, the first step to the meet your project team was yours, the next 90 days are ours, they are shared. In those moments, when we combine our powers of agency, we kick-start cultures, develop inclusive practices and at the very least, acknowledge the experiences of others as something sacred, stories aired and bones bared – why else spend those heartbeats there?

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Gentrification in South London: Bringing investment or reinforcing racism?

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At Brixton Recreation Centre in South London, many of the young and middle-aged men pumping iron greet each other endearingly with hugs, handshakes and fist bumps.

There is a sense of camaraderie rare within British public spaces.

Carl, a down-to-earth youth worker in his late forties, has been coming here most of his life. He feels gentrification has changed the atmosphere in the wider area and BRC is one of the last remaining hubs of the once close-knit community.

"The people that are coming into Brixton now are coming in with a perceived mindset of what they've been told by the media about people like me, a black man. They double-check their wallets are safe when they walk past me.

"Their head is filled with media reporting of how people of colour are breaking Covid rules and have it in higher numbers or whatever, and they see me and quickly put their masks on before they walk past me.

"They look at locals who have been here for decades and see us as suspects."

Brixton- a district in South London- was once the cultural capital of the UK's Afro-Caribbean community. Many settled here from the 1940s onwards as the government encouraged West Indian migrants to come and boost the country's economy shattered by World War Two.

However, over the past twenty years the council has sold much of its housing to private property developers. In the ten years to 2016 it reduced its housing stock by 5,000 and property prices have risen 76 percent since 2011.

The new wealth is bringing in a growing number of white middle class residents and 'urban tourists' with new restaurants and pubs in the centre increasingly catering for such clientele. There are extravagant Italian and French restaurants where there used to be humble Caribbean takeaways.

There are plans for more changes.

US property developer Hondo Enterprises owns many prime commercial premises in Brixton. Its proposal to build a twenty-one storey office block was initially approved by the council but strong opposition from locals against the hyper-marketization of their community has led to the Mayor of London pausing the plan pending the outcome of a public consultation.

The residents of Brixton participate in the Afrikan Emancipation Day Reparations march every year on August 1. (AP)

Evictions
Hondo Enterprises' existing property takeovers in Brixton have already led to the eviction of thirty artists from their studio spaces. Nour Cash and Carry, in business for over 20 years selling a diverse range of food at affordable prices, was served with an eviction notice last year. Community protests in defence of the grocer eventually led to an agreement with Hondo that it could relocate to a different site.

"It's like Israel in Palestine. They come in here saying 'I can do what I want and leave everyone else out'", reflects Carl. "They rip out the community."
Corporate Culture
Steadman Scott is a rare being. When he speaks one can almost feel the vibration of each word reverberating through his entire body. He is fully present, alive and thriving-not just surviving and playing the game- a far cry from the stooping, stiff, coffee guzzling office workers so common on the streets of London.

From BRC he runs Afewee Training Centre which includes a football academy for children. Since starting in 1997 thirty of his alumni have gone on to join Premier League teams; one was in England's national team and every division in England currently has at least one Afewee alumni.

He's lived in Brixton since arriving here as a ten-year-old from Jamaica in 1967. He's seen it at its worst when there was high crime, low employment and perpetual police harassment of young black men.

Steadman was nearly uprooted by gentrification himself when in 2012 attempts were made to move the centre to a smaller location and replace it with shops.

His concern is the materialist, corporate culture championed by the forces of gentrification, such as Hondo Enterprises, - a culture which he feels conditions people to be mechanical and ultimately suppresses the human spirit in the name of maximising profit. He sees this as an extension of other forms of suppression which have stifled humanity for centuries, such as colonisation and slavery.

He is determined to develop independent young locals who don't need to buy into such a system.

"It won't be people from Brixton that work in those offices (in the proposed tower). Many might aspire to but is that a dream worth having? What we have to do is re-educate our youngsters. Our folks always told us to get educated to get a job. But then your future is controlled by the system, by the company.

"We give kids the fighting mentality in the sporting context- a mentality they can use to succeed in a cold, racist, soulless world. They might not make it in football but they will still be able to go and do something for themselves because of the discipline we give them".

He describes the racial division created by gentrification. "Most of the new people coming in, white people, they go straight past the black shops and go to Pop Brixton or Brixton Village. How does that help the people of colour here? They won't be getting business from the new commuters. All these food stalls here: Ethiopian, Senegalese, all that will be gone".

Afewee is Jamaican patois meaning 'it's for us' and Scott says for him us means everybody. "Afewee don't have any colour barrier. We are fighting for equality for everything. I have white parents bringing their children here so they can learn in a multicultural environment".

He feels the economic barriers that further gentrification will bring will undermine his work to remove colour barriers.
Not All Bad For Locals
Michael Groce is a poet and community relations worker. His mother moved here from Jamaica in the fifties. In 1985 she was shot and paralysed by police sparking two days of riots. A mural partly dedicated to her was painted this year in the district.

For him, Brixton is not gentrifying fast enough. He recalls the sixties when there were housing shortages, overcrowding, rat-infested buildings and intense stand-offs with police and rival gangs. "It was a violent and uncomfortable area to live in".

Although he himself can no longer afford to live here he has seen many long-residing locals benefiting from increased property prices.

"You have families that came from the Caribbean and have been there for fifty, sixty years. Now their homes are worth £1. 5 million ($2.8 million). The regeneration is not all bad for the local community and it's almost a swear word to admit that".

Elements of the long-standing Caribbean community deeply value spiritual development over wealth accumulation. But for Groce, the corporatization of the community has not been a bad thing. "My daughter now owns a pharmacy there and I've another daughter who is a property developer building for the homeless. It's allowed for upward social mobility in my family".

Nor does he personally see gentrification as widening racial inequalities. "The corporates have a business model that works a certain way and it's not to do with the colour of my skin".

Unfortunately, despite benefitting some, that 'certain way' of doing things clearly disrupts communities and threatens livelihoods as the successful and attempted evictions of artists, Nour and BRC show. When communities are disrupted it is the most vulnerable that are worst affected and all too often in the UK that happens to be people of colour.

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Gentrification in South London: Bringing investment or reinforcing racism?

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At Brixton Recreation Centre in South London, many of the young and middle-aged men pumping iron greet each other endearingly with hugs, handshakes and fist bumps. There is a sense of camaraderie rare within British public spaces. Carl, a down-to-earth youth worker in his late forties, has been coming here most of his life.

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An artistic exploration of up to four London boroughs or parts of boroughs, charting the injustice of gentrification, historical enrichment and who deserves / gets what memorials where.

We believe a monopoly board style approach to our 'Users Guide', a la video games, may be a fun way to bring people in to engage with this topic. We expect it to be visual and informative but have not decided on formats as yet (we have discussed a few formats and hope to pick one or two in the coming weeks).

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(Image: Alastair Lockhart)

Shoreditch is one of London's trendiest and most iconic areas, but this status has come at the cost of increased "gentrification" in the area.

Shoreditch overlaps the boroughs of Hackney and Tower Hamlets, both of which have undergone huge economic and social changes in recent years.

Historically, the area is home to what is believed to be the first social housing estate in the world. How times change.

This rapid change and its consequences have alarmed many from the area, but has brought economic benefits too.

Saif Osmani, an artist and designer who was born and works locally, says many are concerned that gentrification risks damaging what makes Shoreditch great.

He said: "Gentrification has arrived really fast into parts of the East End and areas like Brick Lane.

"Which are culturally very important, and give people from the East End, and migrants in particular, a leg up into the city."

He adds that these opportunities are "very much under threat as a result of the city creeping in".

Tower Hamlets has experienced more gentrification than any other London borough between 2010 and 2016, while Hackney was also included in the top five most gentrified boroughs, according to report published by the Runnymede Trust and CLASS recently.

The report explains that while gentrification can bring a cash boost into an area, some of its traditional poorer communities - can find themselves forced out.

The end of 'Banglatown'?

For decades, the area has been home to Bengali and Bangladeshi communities that have helped to put the area on the map for its cultural vibrancy and famous curry houses.

These communities gradually earned the south end of Brick Lane the nickname ' Banglatown.'

But the fear that gentrification may erode these communities and their history led Saif to help found the Bengali East End Heritage Society.

"Gentrification sometimes can be a little bit difficult for people to understand," Saif says. "Often, we don't think that there's a collective impact on particular groups.

"This year I did a scholarship to do my masters at UCL Bartlett and I looked at, in particular, this nexus between the Bangladeshi East End heritage politics and the 'hipsterfication' of Brick Lane and around this area.

"What I found was that there's a very unique Bangladeshi culture which is not happening anywhere else in the global West. But it's happening in Brick Lane, and that's being eroded."

Saif is currently holding an exhibition on Princelet Street in Shoreditch called 'Framing Banglatown'. The exhibition explores Brick Lane's Bengali and Bangladeshi history.

'There's no class difference'

Shoreditch's location, sandwiched between some of London's most deprived areas in Tower Hamlets and the financial hub of the city of London, has made the area a social and economic crossroads.

Naglis Miniauskas, general manager of The Edge Beer Garden on Shoreditch High Street, says his punters come from all areas of society.

"This is like a meeting place, there's no class difference," he says. "There's no division, as I feel. I think we're in a prime location for that."

Working at the bar since it opened in November 2016, Naglis has seen the surrounding area transformed by new flats and offices.

"It became more mainstream and trendy as we were opening," he says. "I think the main thing is about Shoreditch, it became trendy and people started to visit, and then these companies saw it as mass traffic so they started to build these things.

"I think it's just been changing year after year."

Brick Lane, perhaps more than anywhere else in Shoreditch, has become something of a tourist trap. Naglis says that this influx of visitors has also contributed to the change in the area, but that he sees most of the transformation as positive.

"I've not seen any negativity," he says. "The only negativity maybe I've seen is towards Bethnal Green and towards Brick Lane and that area - that place is filled with tourists.

"If you walk past Brick Lane, that has nothing to do with the locals here, only the people who own the businesses and the people who work there.

"The people who actually shop and walk through there, none of them are locals. It's all just people who come from who knows where. They throw rubbish everywhere, they're the ones who cause trouble and everything. The locals here, there's no issue with them."

He adds that although new buildings are being built, The Edge bar and other venues are protected by their listed status.

"As long as the building is being looked after and protected, I don't see a major issue," he says.

"So when these buildings come in, as long as they're keeping heritage there, for me it doesn't cause any issue. Because I still see people from that side, people from that side and everyone coming in here and mixing. I have not had any negativity yet from any of this."

Ameli Lindgren, owner of vintage clothing shop Nordic Poetry on Bethnal Green Road near Brick Lane, has also seen the area change.

"Since moving to London 20 years ago I have seen a huge change in Shoreditch," she says. "In the last 11 to 15 years there have been a lot of changes, new trendy bars and shops popping up, and Shoreditch became the place to go to and live.

"Of course that has had a bad impact on rents, property prices and has made it not affordable for the local community and may have forced people to move out . Of course that is not a good thing.

"However gentrification has not only happened in Shoreditch, it is happening world wide and is hard to avoid, and some positive things do come out of it. Like myself and others, when I started my business Shoreditch was still [an] affordable place to find a commercial space and that has helped my business to flourish.

"However I do think the government need to protect local people with rent caps so they can enjoy the community as much as people who can afford it."

Truman Brewery protests

Gentrification in Shoreditch has been encapsulated in recent weeks by a controversial proposal to develop the Truman Brewery into a shopping centre and five-storey office building.

Many locals, including Bengali and Bangladeshi activist group Nijjor Manush and Saif Osmani, have organised protests against the development under the Save Brick Lane campaign.

Residents have raised concerns that the development could damage the culture of the area, and that little or no consultation has been given by the site's owners.

Saif Osmani says that the owners have been "avoiding" consultation with residents by developing "piecemeal" sections of the Truman Brewery.

"We'll use the word avoiding deliberately," he says. "Because we haven't been brought in in any of the other stages of planning.

"That's a big site - that's 10 acres, which is the same landmass as the Bishopsgate goods yard, and we were always promised Community Housing of various kinds and long-term living on [the site]."

The Save Brick Lane campaign will stage a demonstration against the Truman Brewery Development on Sunday (July 18).

The site hosts community events such as art shows, an annual pancake race and food festivals. It also offers low rent to market stalls and restaurants.

Jason Zeloof, one of three brothers who own the Truman site, assured a council meeting in April that the current uses would continue with an expanded commercial space and micro businesses if new plans were approved.

The plans were deferred in April by Tower Hamlets Council and are set to be heard again on July 22 by the authority's planning committee.

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Shoreditch: How one of London's most 'gentrified' areas has changed

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Shoreditch is one of London's trendiest and most iconic areas, but this status has come at the cost of increased "gentrification" in the area. Shoreditch overlaps the boroughs of Hackney and Tower Hamlets, both of which have undergone huge economic and social changes in recent years.

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ABSTRACT This article investigates the early period of "gentrification" of the inner residential districts of London, when the process was particularly rich in cultural meaning and symbolism. It focuses on the distinctive culture of the gentrifiers, including styles of house refurbishment, interior design, gastronomy, entertaining, networking and amateur property speculation, and suggests that this culture allowed the middle-class incomers to make sense of their new life choices and social identities. The gentrifiers promoted an idea of the "urban village" which enabled them to be both part of the inner city and separate from it, close to its amenities but cut off from its social problems. As the process developed momentum from the late 1960s onwards, they used their influence as cultural producers and opinion-formers to comment on the process of gentrification in a way that combined self-promotion, satire, guilt and exculpation.
From the early 1950s onwards, the inner residential districts of London began to be transformed by a phenomenon which did not at the time have a name. The capital's young professional classes, finding themselves priced out of established middle-class areas like Hampstead, Highgate and Chelsea, began to move into areas with attractive period houses in convenient locations, but often in need of renovation and alongside much poorer areas. This process began in the Canonbury area of Islington; spread to Barnsbury and other parts of Islington, as well as Camden, Notting Hill, Primrose Hill, Kentish Town, Holland Park and West Greenwich in the 1960s; and reached as far as Hackney in East London and parts of South London like Lambeth, Battersea, Clapham and Fulham in the 1970s.
HOUSE REFURBISHMENT AND URBAN CONSERVATION
Before the 1950s, the North London borough of Islington was a down-at-heel area, its once grand Regency and early Victorian houses split into poorly maintained, multi-occupation tenements. Then, in a process that began slowly and accelerated rapidly from the early 1960s onwards, middle-class incomers began buying up slum properties and ex-rooming houses and transforming them into attractive dwellings. Given that much of the impact of this early gentrification remained unstated, many contemporary commentators sought to make sense of it through careful attention to the changing visual character of neighbourhoods. At first, the emphasis in these accounts was primarily on aesthetics. One of the earliest media representations of gentrification, a 1953 Good Housekeeping fashion shoot in which models posed in the doorways of restored Georgian houses in Canonbury, focused on "lost beauty discovered, lovely houses salvaged from the past". "What catches the imagination," the article stated, "is the grand reconstruction and restoring of the old, fine Georgian places. In the rows of dirty faced, neglected houses, the rebuilt ones stand out like good teeth among bad." But later observers used the changed appearance of particular areas to comment on less visible social processes. Michael Thompson lived in North London between 1966 and 1971, working for a building firm in order to finance his studies in economics and anthropology. In his book Rubbish Theory, he examined the silent power struggle between two groups in Islington around this time: the working-class tenants (whom he calls the "Ron-and-Cliffs," after two of the most common names he hears in pubs in the area) and the middle-class "knockers-through".

Thompson understood that, for the gentrifiers, renovation was not simply a case of repointing bulging brickwork, touching up the paintwork and retiling the roof. It was a statement about a new kind of lifestyle that was recognizably but not ostentatiously middle-class. In place of the hardboard front doors studded with plastic bell pushes of the "Ron-and-Cliffs," the "frontier middle classes" fitted pseudo-Georgian, panelled doors, restored the fanlights and added lacquered brass knockers. A blue-and-white enamel number plate served as "a little touch of provincial France proclaiming that the owner drinks Hirondelle Vin Ordinaire with his Quiche Lorraine for his dinner and not Light Ale with his ham-and-egg pie for his tea". The railed verandas on the first floor were painted with black gloss paint and filled with geraniums; navy-blue Venetian blinds replaced the net curtains favoured by the working-class tenants. Through their enlarged basement windows, one could see that the middle classes had knocked through their dividing walls to make the house lighter and more spacious, and laid down quarry-tile floors or simply removed the carpets to reveal the original boards. As central heating was now ameliorating the problem of heating larger rooms, getting rid of interior walls became a familiar middle-class signifier of modernity and freedom. In the mid-1960s, "knocking through" was a euphemism for "gentrification," perhaps because it identified the process with the creative restoration of individual houses rather than more problematic changes in the social make-up of neighbourhoods.

In his 1974 book, Soft City, Jonathan Raban identifies a similar phenomenon occurring in the late 1960s in a Georgian square on the border of Islington and Holloway. As a resident of the square, Raban notes how young couples like "Nigel and Pamela, Jeremy and Nicola" (these middle-class names being used, as in Thompson's account, as shorthand for certain kinds of lifestyle and attitude) began to visit it on Sunday afternoons. Like Thompson, Raban describes the process in visual terms, in this case through the eyes of the prospective gentrifiers:

They stared at it squint-eyed and, after their first blank shock at the mean disorder of the place, they learned to look at it with affection. They saw a uniform line of white fronts, with brass knockers in place of the tangle of electric bells; they put leaves on the trees; they stripped the pavements of fish-and-chip papers; they looked at the people on the streets, thought for a while, and came up with the word cosmopolitan.

Raban is scathing about these couples who see the purchase of a house as "an act of conscience," and "search out 'unspoiled' areas in the city, where they can live conspicuously cheek-by-jowl with the polyglot poor". It is telling that he focuses less on the renovation of individual houses than on urban conservation, an area where the middle classes undoubtedly grouped together to promote their own interests:

It was regarded as a small victory for conservation that the wall at the back of the garden was kept high, so that the tenants of the new council low-rise flats would not be able to watch the sunbathing Brahmins leafing through the New York Review of Books on their breakfast patios.

Along with other middle-class pressure groups in gentrifying areas, the Association campaigned against the replacement of old terraced houses and squares with new local-authority housing. Richard Crossman, Labour's Housing Minister, referred to these pressure groups when he spoke in favour of the demolition of Islington's Packington Estate in 1965: "These rat-infested slums must be demolished. Old terraced houses may have a certain snob-appeal to members of the middle class but they are not suitable accommodation for working-class tenants." Crossman's comment shows how much the process of gentrification relied on contested meanings: one's class position determined whether the same houses should be condemned as slums or admired for their "snob appeal".

By the end of the 1960s, the close relationship between urban conservation and property values was widely acknowledged, and middle-class priorities changed from preventing the depreciation of house prices to making sure they rose as quickly as in other gentrifying areas. The "London Property Letter," a monthly circular sent to estate agents and other property specialists, advised investors in February 1970 that Barnsbury was "a chicken ripe for plucking" because Islington Council had now adopted a policy of environmental improvement. The Barnsbury Association was particularly successful in promoting an idea of the area as a self-contained "urban village" with its own special character and needs, when prior to this period it had simply been a historical name with no definite administrative boundaries. The much-replicated notion of the "urban village" was a way for the middle classes to be part of the city but separate from it, close to its amenities but cut off from its social problems. As early as 1963, the Times wrote that

some of those living in large cities like to feel and to communicate the feeling that they are doing nothing of the kind. They are villagers. Property in an urban village, especially if it can be labelled "twenty minutes West End," now carries that cant-word of today, prestige, and can be commended as suitable for "gracious living".
THE URBAN LIFESTYLE REVOLUTION
In the "knocked-through" house, the kitchen was the main eating area as well as the social hub of the home. For middle-class women, cooking could now become a familial activity integrated into the rest of the household, rather than simply a domestic chore. As Steve Jones and Ben Taylor argue, cookery writers popular with the middle classes in this period, like Elizabeth David and Jane Grigson, elevated specific forms of female domesticity while denigrating others (which could perhaps be offloaded to cleaners and au pairs) as mere drudgery. "Intelligent housewives feel they've a duty to be bored by domesticity," Grigson writes in Good Things. "A fair reaction to dusting and bedmaking, perhaps, but not, I think, to cooking." In French Country Cooking, David similarly addresses "those who actually and positively enjoy the labour involved in entertaining friends and providing their families with first-class food".

David began publishing cookery books in 1950 but their impact was cumulative rather than immediate. They did not start to be published in Penguin paperback until 1955, and were not bestsellers until the 1960s. David has been credited with revolutionizing British middle-class cuisine, but for many years she was primarily a metropolitan taste. Before the 1970s, it was difficult to purchase her more "exotic" ingredients (anchovies, aubergines, chick peas, Mozzarella) outside of Soho delicatessens or the food shops around Tottenham Court Road. When David writes about the availability of the ingredients or utensils needed for her recipes, she generally refers to London shops and markets. She also opened her own kitchen shop in Belgravia in 1965, selling rare implements like Parmesan cutters, diables and bain-maries.

In the 1960s and 1970s, David's books appealed to the metropolitan middle classes in a number of ways. First, their sensuous descriptions of continental foodstuffs evoked fond memories of the foreign holidays they were beginning to take in places like Provence and Tuscany. Second, her recipes appealed to young, professional couples on a limited budget because they were sophisticated but cheap, finding uses for everything from pigs' trotters to sheep's lungs. The novelist Olivia Manning, reviewing Italian Food (1954), described its prospective readers as "the New Poor" - those who would have employed housekeepers and cooks before the war, but who now had to look after themselves. In the days before large supermarkets filled with global produce, David's books suggested that searching for ingredients in small shops and urban markets could be "an entertainment and an education," as pleasurable as the cooking itself.

Finally and most importantly, David's stylish but straightforward cuisine fitted in with a new type of casual urban entertaining. In contrast with classic English dinner-party cookery, which involved elaborate preparation and presentation, many of her meals can be described in a few lines and prepared in a matter of minutes. "With la haute cuisine I am not here concerned," she writes in her most influential book, French Provincial Cooking. "Many sins have been committed in its name ... The feeling of our time is for simpler food, simply presented." Although she often criticizes stock cubes, freezers and food processors in her writing, her middle-class readers were not so fastidious, relying on them to save time and juggle domestic and work commitments. The esprit de corps or sense of "tribal affiliation" that developed among pioneer gentrifiers, and the proximity enforced by the terraced properties in squares and crescents in areas like Islington and Camden, meant that many felt they were "buying neighbourliness as part of their property". London's new middle classes had "a few friends round for a meal" rather than the formal dinner party with several courses, and they ate unceremoniously in a knocked-through kitchen-diner rather than a "stuffy" separate dining room. David's "simple dishes" for the "ordinary middle class" encouraged and embraced this new informality.

The transformation of urban middle-class eating habits went hand-in-hand with a revolution in interior design. In an article in Town magazine in January 1963, the journalist Nicholas Tomalin, himself a member of Camden's frontier middle class, described this new aesthetic, after Thorstein Veblen, as "conspicuous thrift". Tomalin saw conspicuous thrift in a range of lifestyle choices from Mini Cooper cars to denim jeans to the bistro, that "little place round the corner" with bare boards, fishermen's nets and blackboard menus. But the true theatre of conspicuous thrift was the home, where walls were stripped of wallpaper and painted minimalist white; kitchens were refurbished in the Scandinavian farmhouse style; floorboards were sanded and left bare, apart perhaps from a goatskin rug; sag bags replaced armchairs; and furniture was made of stripped pine. Tomalin identified conspicuous thrift with gentrifying areas like Islington, Greenwich and Limehouse, arguing that "the way to make money in real estate is to stamp a slum with the cachet of CT - time will do the rest". Conspicuous thrift was ostensibly classless, proudly defining itself against chintzy bourgeois convention. But as Tomalin recognized, it was still a badge of class, a way of living in a poor neighbourhood while identifying oneself clearly to fellow gentrifiers. Thrifters were "distinguishing themselves, distastefully, from the real proletariat" which in an age of consumer affluence now "guiltlessly enjoy[s] the excesses of Conspicuous Waste". The adherent of conspicuous thrift was "a would-be aristocrat, seeking by the appearance of plain living to create the impression of high thinking and anti-vulgarity".

Elizabeth David's lucid prose and evocative recipes recalled a richer, more vibrant, culinary tradition that changed the face of metropolitan food. There we all were in our rustic pine kitchens conjuring up our boeuf en daube and our tartes aux abricots wearing our butchers' aprons and using our wooden spoons. London's postwar culinary history, I often think, could be traced through a careful study of Habitat catalogues over the years.

Conran recognized that the servantless middle classes wanted elegant but low-maintenance housewares: cutlery that did not need endless polishing; tables that looked good without tablecloths; earthenware dishes that went straight from the oven to the dinner table; and new cooking utensils like the Wok which allowed meals to be prepared in minutes. One of Habitat's bestselling items in the 1960s was the duvet, a continental innovation which ended the tedious routine of bedmaking with underblankets and top sheets. Other products, like the Boule Japonaise or spherical paper lampshade introduced in the mid-1960s, were simply iconic statements of "conspicuous thrift," cheap but stylish items for young couples on a limited budget.

Habitat sold a complete range for the home, from salt mills to sofas, with the stores arranged in mock living rooms or kitchens to show how items could be combined to produce a "look". The store's first promotional brochure claimed that its "pre-selected shopping programme" offered "instant good taste ... for switched-on people". This was important because its customers were drawn not only from the established middle classes but also from interlopers who were the first in their families to receive a university education and enter the professions. If urban gentrifiers filled their new homes with Habitat goods, they could avoid any obvious lapses of taste. Habitat combined a domesticated modernism (scooped-out eggshell chairs, modular Olga shelving, Magistretti tables) with rustic authenticity (pine dressers, iron bedsteads, quarry tiles). Its synthesis of urban minimalism and pastoral chic, "bang on the trend for cosy countrified living," allowed the new middle classes to live in the modern city while remaining disengaged from its seamier aspects. Like David's recreation of Mediterranean cuisine in metropolitan kitchens, Habitat offered a kind of domesticated version of the "urban village". The Habitat style had its roots in the work of William Morris and the Arts and Crafts movement, with their emphasis on simplicity, naturalness and "fitness to purpose". Unlike Morris, however, Conran embraced rather than denied the contradictions inherent in mass-marketing such a style at middle-class urbanites.

The early 1960s also saw the arrival of colour supplements in the Sunday Times (1962), Daily Telegraph (1964) and Observer (1965), which served as lifestyle guides for this new urban middle class. The supplements pioneered a new kind of feature writing about eating out, entertaining and interior design which soon infiltrated the main sections of newspapers as well. The first Habitat store, located in a then unfashionable part of South Kensington called Brompton Cross, might not have been such an instant success with middle-class North Londoners had it not been extensively trailed and reviewed in the broadsheet newspapers and supplements. The day before its opening, a Sunday Times article entitled "What the smart chicks are buying" publicized "a swinging shop called Habitat" which would present "the pick of the furnishing pops under one roof" and "make shopping for the home an impulsive, gay affair". The Scotsman newspaper referred to this incestuous relationship between lifestyle journalism and retail when it dismissed Habitat's customers as "colour supplement couples who lived in up-and-coming Islington and gave their children names like Jason and Cinnamon". Elizabeth David also appeared in magazines and newspapers aimed at a middle-class readership in the 1950s and 1960s, notably the Spectator, Vogue and the Sunday Times; Jane Grigson wrote for the Observer supplement from the late 1960s onwards. Their dissemination in these class-specific media rather than through television dissociated them from the fussiness and formality of contemporaries like Fanny and Johnnie Cradock, who appeared in numerous cookery programmes, always dressed in evening gown and suit respectively, between the 1950s and 1970s. The implicitly anti-suburban aesthetic of gentrification culture focused attention on its rejection of traditional middle-class styles rather than its more problematic relationship to the working classes.
THE CULTURAL ECONOMY OF THE HOUSING MARKET
This is not to say that the idea of a brave, pioneering class of gentrifiers was simply a myth. The groups colonizing the poorer areas of inner London in the 1960s were less risk-averse than average homeowners, buying and renovating their houses in the face of sceptical bank managers and building societies in an era when getting a mortgage was a lengthy and difficult process. But the appeal to frontier imagery in these gentrification narratives meant that the focus was almost invariably on the middle classes rather than the displaced tenants. As Neil Smith puts it, the term "urban pioneer" suggests "a city that is not yet socially inhabited ... the contemporary urban working class is seen as less than social, simply a part of the physical environment". In the celebrations of urban style and fashion in 1960s newspapers and colour supplements, the fashionable young Islingtonites doing up decayed terraces were viewed as part of the inevitable march of modernity and progress.

The estate agent Roy Brooks's humorous descriptions of dilapidated properties in unfashionable locations, which appeared in the Times, Sunday Times and Observer and became one of the favourite sections of these newspapers for their readers, provided the gentrifiers with more subtle validations. They admired these advertisements for their apparent honesty about properties: "glum attic flat for midgets"; "décor repulsive"; "so-called garden". Underneath their blithe veneer, however, they were finely attuned to the changing London property market. Brooks's adverts often suggested the importance of location and the potential for renovation: "It really means something socially to live in a filthy old Georgian house in fash [fashionable] Islington". Many of them offered thumbnail sketches of the subtly shifting demography of an area:

As the artists have already moved into Peckham it is only a matter of time before they are followed by the fringe professions, Stage, Tely [television] and Advertising - with the Chelsea type of monied intellectual snob breathing on their necks - then a dump like this will be worth well over £10,000.

Islington was described as "fashionable but slightly sordid" and Camberwell "up coming," but some parts of the inner city, such as "Darkest Pimlico," were still beyond the pale, and suburban Penge was a "ghastly place". The adverts flattered the self-image of the urban middle classes by suggesting that their restoration of rundown houses was a romantic, foolhardy gesture rather than a hard, financial calculation. Brooks's agency was one of the most successful in London, suggesting that his apparent candour may actually have attracted rather than repelled clients.

In Soft City, Raban's discussion of the shifting symbolism of London postcodes encapsulates this tension between middle-class bohemianism and economic self-interest. He points out that in London, there are established middle-class areas with stable property values, and deprived areas where no one wants to live. But there is also "a great deal of soft territory where people buy houses to announce something distinctive about themselves". This "soft territory" tended to exist on the edges of more desirable areas. House prices rose sharply in London in the early 1970s, as building societies became more willing to offer mortgages on inner-city properties and more private landlords sold off houses for owner-occupation. Between 1970 and 1979, homeownership in inner London grew by 21 per cent. As property prices rose, gentrification spread rapidly throughout the inner areas of North and West London. The question of "boundaries" or "borders," largely an invention of estate agents who wanted to transfer the good reputation of certain postcodes to adjoining areas, became significant. For example, Stoke Newington and De Beauvoir Town began to attract those who could no longer afford Islington, their advantage being that they were next to already gentrified areas.

There were sporadic protests against the middle-class incomers among the existing working-class residents. They wrote letters to local newspapers such as the Islington Gazette and the North London Press complaining about "the new Chelseaites". (To add to the confusion, this pejorative term was also used semi-ironically in property adverts: "Bijou gem for Chelseaites".) There were campaigns against the so-called "winkling" of sitting tenants out of their properties, which culminated in a march of 300 tenants through Islington and the picketing of estate agents in March 1974. Alf Townsend, a London taxi driver, achieved brief notoriety in the early 1970s by using his column in the trade newspaper, The Taxi, to rail against the colonization of cockney London by "middle-class ghettoes":

Not content with buying up houses in working-class areas, they even invent a new name for the district. Battersea is now referred to as "south Chelsea". Around The Angel, Islington, becomes "Barnsbury Village," with another "village" rearing its middle-class head around Stockwell ... Ask for a pint of mild and bitter in some of these pubs and they say: "We don't have pint glasses in here, old chap. This is a half-bitter pub." They're all full of people called Nigel.

As this isolated example suggests, however, the working classes were largely locked out of more powerful media and cultural circuits. The cross-London and national newspapers did not pick up on these controversies until about 1970, by which time many areas had been thoroughly transformed.

The eviction of tenants from up-and-coming areas so that the properties could be sold on, made much easier by the 1957 Rent Act which decontrolled tenancies, was brutal but often invisible. Some landlords reported their own houses to the council as uninhabitable, or offered bribes to persuade tenants to leave; the less scrupulous locked their tenants out of their bathrooms, or hired thugs to intimidate them. But landlords and estate agents kept these dealings quiet from the incoming residents. Many of the gentrifiers saw living on "the front line" as a way of combining their left-liberal political credentials with a certain bohemian cachet, and professed to relish encounters with "the locals". This meant that the coercive aspects of gentrification had to be concealed from many of its participants. To use Raban's language, gentrification was a "soft" phenomenon which inspired disparate resentments rather than coherent opposition. Ian Martin, in his 1966 BBC2 documentary series, Six Sides of a Square, interviewed the homeowners and sitting tenants of Islington's Gibson Square and found not so much class warfare as mutual incomprehension about vastly differing lifestyles and cultures. One journalist, Jeremy Bugler, who conducted extensive interviews in Islington in 1968, found that, even though the working-class residents were suspicious of the middle-class gentrifiers, they at least preferred them to another incoming group: West Indian tenants.
GENTRIFICATION SATIRES
In the absence of any organized anti-gentrification movement, it was largely left to the middle classes to provide their own self-promoting or self-satirizing commentaries. The early cultural politics of gentrification involved a series of (often unstated or understated) lifestyle choices. Once the process had developed momentum and was increasingly identified in the media from the late 1960s onwards, even if it was not yet described as "gentrification," then it began to be more explicitly articulated, often in fictional forms which explored the tension between left-wing rhetoric and middle-class self-absorption. Of course, satirical attacks on the bad faith of well-heeled urban radicals in Britain predate the phenomenon of gentrification. In the 1950s, the much-derided figure of the "Hampstead leftie" was embodied in the supposed cliquishness of the "Frognal set," named after the exclusive street where the Labour party leader Hugh Gaitskell lived. In his column in the right-wing Daily Telegraph from the 1960s onwards, the comic writer Peter Simple ridiculed the voguish left-wing causes of fictional Hampstead intellectuals such as Deirdre Dutt-Pauker. According to this caricature, Hampstead lefties were people with fashionably progressive opinions which rarely impinged on their comfortable lifestyles. By the 1960s, Hampstead was becoming too expensive for many members of the young, professional classes and the caricature was beginning to date.

Unlike the stereotype of the Hampstead leftie, though, satirical treatments of the early gentrifiers were self-directed, often produced by participants in the process and appearing in media likely to be consumed by the urban middle classes themselves. Alan Bennett's 1966 BBC2 sketch show, On the Margin, incorporated a quasi-soap opera, "Streets Ahead" or "Life and Times in NW1," a postcode which included the then rapidly gentrifying area of Camden. Bennett's characters are young, left-wing media couples newly settled in the area, such as Joanna and Simon Stringalong, and Nigel and Jane Knocker-Threw. Their lives consist of a series of self-generated ethical dilemmas, such as whether to send their children to the state primary or a private school, and what to do when their Swedish au pair becomes pregnant.

Mark Boxer adapted Bennett's characters for a cartoon strip, "The Stringalongs," which appeared first in The Listener magazine in 1967 and later in his collection The Trendy Ape (1968). The title was a take on Desmond Morris's bestselling anthropological study, The Naked Ape, published the previous year. Boxer wrote in the foreword that it was a study of "the upward strivers of the Communications Industry" who "have become central figures of our time". Bennett's sketches are self-contained playlets, by the end of which his characters have resolved their quandaries to their own satisfaction, with a tortuous mix of moral posturing and self-justification. Boxer's cartoons are more fragmentary. His characters do not so much converse with each other as exchange quotations about their self-regarding media lifestyles. The Stringalongs suggest to their neighbours that they all tear down the fences in their back gardens to create "our own little kibbutz"; they proudly nickname their son "le rouge" after he leads an infants' revolt at his primary school in May 1968; and they plan a television documentary about gentrification entitled "Harrowing Contrast of a Crescent?" which will focus on "a super old couple across the road who look rivetingly photogenic when you see them silently drinking their Bengers" [a drink to aid digestion].

These days the process is called gentrification and involves no soul-searching (few troubled consciences in Docklands, I imagine) but we were genuinely uneasy about it - or there would have been no need for jokes - and, though our unease could be handily recycled into resentment of those who bought into the area later than we had, there was a definite sense that we were shoving the indigenous population out.

Bennett then relates the story of attending a dinner party in a knocked-through house in 1965. An old man, "not quite a tramp," rang the door asking for the landlady of the rooming house that the address once was. The dinner-party guests felt guilty enough to abandon their meal and drive the man around Camden Town looking for somewhere else to stay. Another gentrifier's dilemma forms the basis for Bennett's book and play The Lady in the Van (1990/1999). For fifteen years until her death in 1989, Bennett let a cantankerous old woman with a history of mental illness, Miss Shepherd, camp out in a dilapidated van in his front yard in Gloucester Crescent, getting light and heating for free by means of an electricity cable leading from his house. Commenting that "one seldom was able to do her a good turn without some thoughts of strangulation," he explores the blurred boundaries between genuine kindness and the self-interested desire to salve one's liberal conscience. Bennett's account of life in Gloucester Crescent suggests that its middle-class residents, far from being obsessed with radical-chic affectation like his characters, were keenly aware of the ironies and compromises of gentrification, allowing people like Miss Shepherd to live in the "gap between our social position and our social obligations".

In his 1967 comic novel, Towards the End of the Morning, Michael Frayn also satirizes these middle-class confusions, while exploring a more complex relationship between individual agency and broader social forces. His central character, a 39-year-old Fleet Street journalist named John Dyson, is, unusually, a middle-class loser in the London property market. When he and his wife Jannie first look for a house, they hope to combine their liberal-intellectual credentials with sound commercial sense:

They did not want to live in the suburbs, in an ugly suburban house with uncongenial suburban neighbours, miles from town. They decided to find a cheap Georgian or Regency house in some down-at-heel district near the centre. However depressed the district, if it was Georgian or Regency, and reasonably central, it would soon be colonized by the middle classes. In this way they would secure an attractive and potentially fashionable house in the heart of London, at a price they could afford; be given credit by their friends for going to live among the working classes; acquire very shortly congenial middle-class neighbours of a similarly adventurous and intellectual outlook to themselves; and see their investment undergo a satisfactory and reassuring rise in value in the process.

In the early years of their marriage, when they were happy to live in rented accommodation, the Dysons saw "innumerable Georgian and Regency terraces which needed only a lick of pastel-shaded paint to make them habitable". But when they begin looking for a house it is "like trying to return to a place one remembered from one's childhood; the innumerable terraces could not be found - the appearance of the world had subtly altered". The Georgian and Regency houses now seem to be occupied by the already rich, and even the Victorian and Edwardian slums are rising in price in anticipation of the middle-class influx. The Dysons have failed to understand the always elusive, constantly mutable nature of gentrification: "The houses they had seen belonged not to the real world at all, but to the world one glimpses out of the corner of one's eye, which vanishes when one turns to look."

The Dysons eventually end up in a decrepit, late-Victorian house in the (fictional but obviously suburban) postcode of SW23, vainly hoping that other members of the intellectual middle classes will soon follow them. They project their frustrated property ambitions on to John's junior colleague, Bob, and his fiancée Tessa. Dyson advises Bob to read Brooks's property ads and "get on the escalator" as soon as possible. With a mixture of altruism and self-interest, Jannie shows Tessa around SW23 properties with sitting tenants ("it's just a matter of agreeing compensation with them"), advising her where she can knock the walls through or put in a room for an au pair. Bob, who is actually trying to break off his engagement with Tessa, is drawn into the housing market by the force of middle-class networking and his own fear of being left behind by inexorable social change. For Frayn, gentrification has developed its own self-sustaining ideas and culture which his characters cannot wholly control or understand.

Posy Simmonds's strip cartoon about middle-class life, which appeared on the Guardian women's page between 1977 and 1987, offered a more sympathetic but still incisive representation of the gentrifiers at a later stage in the process. It was warmly received by the newspaper's readership, not least because its characters were archetypal " Guardian readers," a by then recognizable shorthand for the well-intentioned, ethically bemused middle classes. Simmonds's principal characters were George Weber, a senior lecturer in Liberal Studies at a Polytechnic, and his wife Wendy, an ex-nurse and writer of children's books. While the location of the series was unnamed, it was evidently meant to be North London, with the characters travelling to work by Tube and living in Georgian townhouses. Their domestic lives are made up of school runs, looking after their own and their friends' children, trips to "Bivouac" (an obvious imitation of Habitat) and dinner parties where they discuss their distaste of suburban vulgarity and commercialism.

The Webers and their friends combine painstaking self-questioning with subtle assertions of their class identities. They have a friendly but awkward relationship with their working-class neighbours, the Heeps; engage in difficult conversations at the school gates with parents who have potentially racist opinions about "coloured" children; and hold street parties where they try to get to know "the locals". But Simmonds's creations are less self-confident than those satirized by Bennett, Boxer and Frayn, often looking back nostalgically to their radical student days and fearing that they will soon be historical relics. Belinda, the Webers' proto-Thatcherite daughter, dismisses her parents as "peasants" because of their liking for lentils, denim, Batik prints and "urban villages". With a mixture of middle-class self-pity and social concern, Wendy worries that "the lights are going out all over the Welfare State" and that "woolly liberals" like herself will suffer "an agonisingly slow death ... we get moth-eaten". Simmonds's portrayals of these well-meaning but self-regarding left-liberals, which have a more valedictory tone than earlier fictions about gentrification, reflect a significant historical shift. She suggests that the gentrifiers' incessant commentary on their own lives is double-edged, fostering a certain smug insularity but also an openness to wider social and political narratives which is now being threatened by the less apologetic commercial logic of Thatcherism.
CONCLUSION
The period covered in this article marks a specific era in the history of gentrification in London. By the early 1980s, it had entered a new phase with the beginnings of the Thatcherite property boom; the more sustained impact of large-scale developers and regeneration companies like the London Docklands Development Corporation; the spread of middle-class settlement into almost every area of inner London; and the subsequent decline in the sense of a "pioneer" class. At the same time, the cultural politics of the early gentrifiers have proved highly influential. London's urban middle classes inaugurated a revolution in British cuisine, as formerly exotic items like olive oil and balsamic vinegar have become common items in supermarkets, while organic and free-range products are sold in farmers' markets set up in urban car parks and squares; they pioneered an investment in "sweat equity" which combined the creative pleasures of house renovation with hard-edged property speculation; their taste in home layout and interior design has influenced the contemporary preference for non-hierarchical, open-plan living spaces, and the "bourgeois-bohemian" melding of retro and contemporary styles; and their campaigns to preserve the historical character of their neighbourhoods marked the beginnings of the urban conservation movement.

More generally, the cultural politics of the early London gentrifiers anticipated global trends in the gentrification of major cities in Europe, North America and Australia. Scholars such as Sharon Zukin, Neil Smith and David Ley have all explored the relationship between gentrification and the changing tastes of the "new middle class" since the 1980s. In these later manifestations, however, such lifestyle choices are more directly related to the actions of developers, governments and global capital, so that "gentrification - a process that seems to reassert a purely local identity - represents downtown's social and cultural transformation in terms of an international market culture".

In spite or perhaps because of their cultural significance, the North London middle classes have been increasingly demonized in national media. This cultural backlash is encapsulated in the term, "the chattering classes," invented in the early 1980s by the right-wing journalist, Frank Johnson, and popularized by his friend Alan Watkins. It was meant to signify a certain type of Londoner who had first moved into Islington, Camden and Clapham but by the 1980s had colonized Battersea, Stoke Newington and Hackney. The phrase suggests a cadre of metropolitan, left-liberal professionals, spouting off about the country's problems at dinner parties in urban villages, detached from both the realities of political power and the uncomplicated aspirations of ordinary people. The anti-urban myth of the chattering classes was partly the product of a Thatcherite populism which aimed to short-circuit traditional elites, speaking directly to the people of "middle England" - the lower middle-class, suburban voters who were now seen as the key swing voters in elections.

From the early 1990s onwards, the chattering classes were more specifically embodied in the caricature of "Islington Person," a fashionable left-liberal who wore Armani suits, ate in expensive restaurants and bought exotic foodstuffs in supermarkets. Knife and Packer's cartoon strip, "It's grim up North London," serialized in the satirical magazine Private Eye in the 1990s, lampooned the archetypal Islingtonite. Before and immediately after his election as Prime Minister in May 1997, Tony Blair was widely identified as an Islington Person, known for dining at the Granita restaurant on Upper Street, and contributing a recipe of "fresh fettucine garnished with an exotic sauce of olive oil, sun-dried tomatoes and capers" to the charity fund-raising Islington Cookbook. Once in office, however, New Labour sought to avoid these associations with urban gentrification. Before the 2005 General Election, cabinet minister Peter Hain attacked Labour's "dinner-party critics" who "quaff Shiraz and Chardonnay" while criticizing the war against Iraq. In a Fabian Society paper published later that year on "why Labour won," the new MP Liam Byrne gave this group the psephological label of "urban intellectuals". They were "good people" who read the Guardian and were "well-informed, big-hearted - but small in number" (which is to say, not worth courting for votes).

The trope of inconsequential "chattering" suggested that the gentrifiers were culturally influential but politically irrelevant, hypocritically combining a comfortable lifestyle with radical politics. These symbolic struggles are a reminder that the cultures of gentrification have always been insistently, if only implicitly, political. The contemporary stereotype of the chatterering classes clearly originates in the self-satirizing treatments of Camden's new media classes in the 1960s. If it is an unfair caricature, it owes its persuasiveness to the fact that gentrification in London has always been a cultural as well as a socio-economic process. Since the first middle-class invasion of Islington in the 1950s, the politics of lifestyle, aesthetics and self-reflexive social comment have played a central role in cementing these "cultures of gentrification".
NOTES
Tomalin, "Conspicuous Thrift," 249.

Hewitt, "Good Design in the Market Place," 40.

This six-part programme was broadcast on BBC2 between 8 March and 12 April 1966.

Bugler, "The invaders of Islington," 226.

Sharon Zukin, Landscapes of Power: From Detroit to Disney World (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1991), p. 187. See also Sharon Zukin, Loft Living: Culture and Capital in Urban Change (London: Radius, 1988); Ley, The New Middle Class, pp. 175-221, and Neil Smith, The New Urban Frontier: Gentrification and the Revanchist City (London: Routledge, 1996).

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Early Cultures of Gentrification in London, 1955-1980

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ABSTRACT This article investigates the early period of "gentrification" of the inner residential districts of London, when the process was particularly rich in cultural meaning and symbolism. It focuses on the distinctive culture of the gentrifiers, including styles of house refurbishment, interior design, gastronomy, entertaining, networking and amateur property speculation, and suggests that this culture...

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https://www.oldmapsonline.org/en/Wandsworth#bbox=-0.2221114358305931,51.4567186548353,-0.20211143583059304,51.47271789554193&q=&date_from=0&date_to=9999&scale_from=&scale_to=

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Old maps of Wandsworth on Old Maps Online. Discover the past of Wandsworth on historical maps.

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Layers of London...mapping the ages in London

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Layers of London...mapping the ages in London

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https://www.layersoflondon.org/map

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This site is aimed at academic students wanting to gain both a detailed and summarised completed guide of the process of gentrification, which plays a significant role in development today. We will discuss debates based upon this matter, evaluating whether or not it’s a good or bad process, with cas…

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https://www.allsaints-fulham.org.uk/monumentsandmemorials.htm

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All Saints has a fine collection of monuments nearly all of which predate the present church. They include:

North Porch

Elizabeth Limpany (1691-94). She was the only daughter of Robert Limpany, a local magnate. This large monument is a plaque of white marble framed with fine wooden carvings of fruit, flowers and drapery.

Tower

Lady Dorothy Clarke (d1695) and Doctor Samuel Barrow (d1682). Lady Dorothy's first husband was Secretary at War to Charles II. Dr Barrow was her second husband. This wall monument by Grinling Gibbons consists of a porphyry base supporting a sarcophagus surmounted by a carved vase.

William Plumbe (d1593) and Elizabeth his wife (d1615). Alabaster and coloured marble.

Thomas Winter (d1681), an East Indies merchant and great grandson of Admiral Sir William Winter. White marble on a porphyry base with an urn and coat of arms.

Bridget Holland (d1823). She was the daughter of Lancelot (Capability) Brown and the wife of the architect Henry Holland (d1806) who was born in Fulham and is buried in the churchyard. Marble wall tablet.

Philip Daniel Castiglione Maurelli (d1737), a servant to bishops Robinson and Gibson who converted to Protestantism.

Theodore Hook (d1841), dramatist, novelist and wit. A plain metal and green tablet.

Christopher Wilson DD, bishop of Bristol (d1792). White marble.

Viscount Mordaunt (d1675), cavalier and conspirator and, after the Restoration, Constable of Windsor Castle. This large black and white marble monument by John Bushnell consists of an effigy of a man in semi-roman costume standing on a pedestal which also supports balusters with gauntlets and a coronet.

South Aisle

War Memorials. A triptych commemorates those of the parish who died in two World Wars. Close by is a flag and 1914-18 Memorial to the 25th Cyclist Battalion, London Regiment, which was based in Fulham.

William Earsby (d1664), a pioneer Fulham market gardener. Alabaster and slate tablet (very faded).

Matthew Morrison, churchwarden (d1915). Wooden gilded wreath.

Major-General Alfred Bassano (d1882), one of three brothers who served in India and who was present at the siege on Lucknow in 1857. Blue and gold ceramic in a wooden frame.

Sir Thomas Kinsey (1696), alderman. White marble tablet with shield of arms and winged cherubs' heads.

Caroline, Viscountess Ranelagh (d1805) and Thomas, Viscount Ranelagh (d1820). White marble coat of arms.

Sir John Becket bt (d1847) and Revd George Becket, prebend of Lincoln (d1843). White marble tablet with sarcophagus, urn and palm tree.

Margaret Svanders (d1529), wife of Gerard Hornebolt, illuminator and painter to Henry VIII. A lozenge shaped Flemish brass.

Lady Chapel

Bishop Blomfield (d1857), a brass by George Richmond with elaborate gothic stone frame.

Thomas William Ravenshaw (d1852), colonel of the Royal Berkshire Regiment and John Goldsborough Ravenshaw, director of the East India Company (d1840) and his wife Hannah (d1862).

William Payne (d1626) and Jane his wife (d1610), benefactor of the poor in Hammersmith and Fulham. Alabaster and marble wall monument with a man and women keeling, facing each other at a prayer desk.

Chancel

Lady Margaret Legh (d1603), daughter of Judge Sir Gilbert Gerard and wife of Sir Peter Legh MP for Lyme in Cheshire. This fine large gilt alabaster monument with a panelled base and Corinthian columns shows a seated woman in a hooded Elizabethan costume holding a swaddled child. On a pedestal on one side is second child and at the other, an hour glass.

Sir Thomas Smith (d1608). Marble wall monument.

Tombstones on the chancel floor include those of Captain John Saris, who made a pioneer voyage to Japan in 1611-14, William Rumbold, standard bearer to Charles I in the Civil War, and Thomas Carlos whose arms include an oak tree in recognition of his father's hiding of Charles II in an oak tree after the battle of Worcester in 1651.

North Transept

Katharine Hart (d1605). An elaborate alabaster tablet showing a woman kneeling with two sons and two daughters.

Dr William Sharp (d1810) surgeon to George III and brother of Granville Sharp. Small brass tablet.

Thomas Bonde (d1600). A square alabaster tablet with a punning inscription.

North Aisle

Mary Barnard (d1842), benefactor of the parish. White marble tablet

Sir Charles William Kent bt (d1848), captain in the Life Guard. Marble wall tablet.

William Carter Muriel (d1916), vicar of Fulham, and Lucie his wife. Oblong brass on wood frame

Sidney Herbert Muriel, captain first Border Regiment, died 1915 in the Dardanelles. Brass on wood frame

William Butts (d1545) chief physician to Henry VIII. Alabaster and black marble tablet. Latin epitaph believed to have been composed by Sir John Cheke, tutor to Edward VI.

Anthony Nours (d1704) and Katherine his wife. White marble draped tablet with winged skull at foot and at top a cartouche of arms surmounted by a hand clutching a serpent

Bishop Gibson (d1748) an elaborate coloured marble tablet

Edmund Gresham (d1593). Small square tablet with achievement of arms.

Bishop Porteous (d1809), a plain tablet.

Martin Stevens JP (d1986), MP for Fulham 1979-86.

Susan Easton (d1907), wife of Edward George Easton JP, mayor of Fulham 1907-08. White marble with carved wooden wreath.

Bishop Henchman (d1675) a large black marble tombstone set into the floor.

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All Saints has a fine collection of monuments nearly all of which predate the present church. They include: Elizabeth Limpany (1691-94). She was the only daughter of Robert Limpany, a local magnate. This large monument is a plaque of white marble framed with fine wooden carvings of fruit, flowers and drapery.

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https://www.wpcc.org.uk/families-education/memorial-stones

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Remembering those from yesterday who helped give us today.

Richardson Evans Playing Fields - First World War Memorial

In the 1920's, the Conservators were able to acquire an additional 42 acres of land. The site, which formed part of Newlands Farm, is now called the Richardson Evans Memorial Playing Fields.

Five acres of this land was dedicated and landscaped as a War Memorial Grove. At the heart of the site is a granite monument, inscribed with the names of local men who gave their lives for their country in the Great War of 1914-1918. The memorial was officially dedicated on 15 July 1925, and the site later named after Mr Richardson Evans, who was instrumental in securing the land for the public.

The monument, situated in the far corner of the playing fields close to the southern end of Stag Lane, remains one of The Commons' lesser-known features. Despite its relative obscurity, the monument remains an impressive creation and one that the Conservators have pledged to maintain, to continue to honour the sacrifice of those it was built to remember.

Eight years ago, the Conservators had some restoration works carried out and had the names of those listed on the memorial enhanced.

Wimbledon Village War Memorial

The Memorial was built in 1919 to commemorate local men who lost their lives in the First World War and further inscriptions were added later to commemorate those lost in the Second World War.

Roehampton War Memorial

The original war memorial that stood on this site was badly damaged by enemy action during the Second World War. The present memorial was erected in 1952. It is sited 200 metres east of Roehampton Church. Grid Ref. TQ 226 739

Tangier Stone, Queen's Royal Rifles

The Tangier Stone was erected in 1961 to commemorate the 300th anniversary of the first parade of the Tangier Regiment of Foot (now the Queen's Regiment). It is situated north of the Roehampton Hills. Grid Ref TQ 228 729

Kings Royal Rifles Memorial, KRR Stone

The KRR Stone was erected to commemorate men of the King's Royal Rifle Corps who passed through the Wimbledon Common transit camp during the First World War. Grid Ref. TQ 227 718

Hartley's Obelisk - The Fire House

By the A3, near Tibbet's Corner, stands an Obelisk commemorating the "Fire House" built in 1776 by Mr David Hartley. Mr Hartley was the inventor of a system for fire-proofing houses by means of what he called "fire-plates". His invention consisted of iron plates fixed over the joists of the upper floors, below the normal floor boarding. Explaining the system he said that "the efficiency of the fire plates depends partly upon their preventing the immediate access of the fire itself to the timbers of the house and partly on their preventing that exterior draught of air without which no house can be set on fire" (he also drew attention to other "subordinate conveniences" such as cleanliness, the prevention of dust falling from floor to floor and the interruption of the free passage of vermin).

His "Fire House" was built, using this construction and on 2nd September 1776 he began a series of demonstrations in which the lower floor of the house was set on fire. The first of these demonstrations was witnessed by the Lord Mayor and Corporation of the City of London who were said to be greatly impressed. No doubt with the Great Fire of London in mind, the Corporation resolved that for new buildings in the City, (wherever thought proper) "the said Fire Plates shall be ordered as part of the plan" and they presented Mr Hartley with the Freedom of the City. At a further demonstration, King George III and Queen Charlotte are said to have taken breakfast on the upper floor of the house while a fierce fire raged below. Hartley went on to produce an even more fire resistant system using iron plates above and below the floor joists with dry sand packed between and experimented with combinations of iron and copper plates. Ultimately, a Parliamentary grant was awarded to him to meet his expenses, which must have been considerable, and the obelisk was set up near the site of the house to record the experiments and the grant.

Pounds

There are two cattle pounds on the Commons, one at the junction of Cannizaro Road and Parkside and the other on Putney Heath near the Green Man. Although the timbers have been renewed over the years, they originally date from the time when sheep and cattle grazed on the Common lands. They were not only used to house cattle which had strayed but to impound those seized in payment of debt.

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Remembering those from yesterday who helped give us today. In the 1920's, the Conservators were able to acquire an additional 42 acres of land. The site, which formed part of Newlands Farm, is now called the Richardson Evans Memorial Playing Fields. Five acres of this land was dedicated and landscaped as a War Memorial Grove.

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Clergy and power

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The house

Museum and historic rooms: closed
Shop: online only (see market barrow below)
Café: 9.30 - 17.00 takeaway only. Open until 19.15 on Fridays in August

The garden

Botanic garden: 6.30 - 18.00 (last entry 17.00), Friday lates in August: 6.30 - 20.00 (last entry at 19.00)
Walled garden: 10.15 - 16.15 with a voluntary donation of £2
Market barrow: open Tuesday - Thursday and Saturday, 11.00 - 15.00

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Fulham Palace House & Garden * Open Daily * Free admission

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The house Museum and historic rooms: closed Shop: online only (see market barrow below) Café: 9.30 - 17.00 takeaway only.

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Historical significance...was the country to be a repuplic or a commonwealth...the conversation began in earnest in Putney with the New Model Army and Clergy from Fulham Bishop's Palace

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Buy The Bronx * artwork by Sophie Calle on Widewalls. On our Marketplace, the artworks available for sale can become yours in just a few clicks.

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Brent BIENNIAL 2022: "I Carry It With Me Everywhere" a film on migration by Arwa Aburawa and Turab Shah with Paulette Harris-German

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Filmmakers Arwa Aburawa and Turab Shah, founders of the Brent-based project Other Cinemas, Paulette Harris-GermanFilmmakers Arwa Aburawa and Turab Shah, founders of the Brent-based project Other Cinemas, have been commissioned to produce their first moving image work. Informed by interviews with first-generation migrants living in the borough and beyond, this short film weaves together the lives of multiple characters as they confront inherited...

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London Statues and the History of Empire

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London is a city filled with statues. They are especially concentrated in certain areas, such as Whitehall, Saint James’s and Hyde Park Corner, and they have become familiar landmarks. But pride in these statues must be tempered with an awareness of historic wrongs, and a reckoning must be made with…

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What role do statues, monuments and memorials play in modern Britain?

The statue of Edward Colston at the M Shed Museum Bristol,
photo credit: Adrian Boliston

Thropughout history statues have been taken down

In recent years and especially in the last couple of months with the development of the Black Lives Matter movement, there have been large scale demonstrations throughout the world to pull down statues that are deemed by some to be offensive and not represent the values of today. Throughout history statues have been taken down, most often following momentous changes in societies as during the French and Russian Revolutions. In revolutionary France statues were taken down by angry mobs when they thought statues represented past kings of France. Following the collapse of Nazi Germany monuments everywhere were taken down by Allied soldiers and German citizens themselves. After the overthrow of Saddam Hussein his statues were toppled in Iraq. Russia has seen a number of revolutionary movements in the c20th and first statues of the Tsars were taken down, then replaced by statues of Lenin and Stalin and then they in turn were replaced by the statues of the Tsarist kings.

In recent years in the USA there have been campaigns to have Civil War statues commemorating Confederate military and political leaders taken down. Such statues have become rallying points for some groups who have an alternative view of the past and a vision for the future that is different from the mainstream view. The 'Rhodes Must Fall' movement began at the University of Cape Town in 2015, leading to the dismantling of a statue which was for many a symbol of continuing inequality in South Africa's educational system. In Britain, demonstrations against the Rhodes statue at Oriel College led to the appointment of a Commission of Inquiry led by Carole Souter.

Statues are regarded by some sections of society as not representing current values and seen as causing offence by being constant reminders of the suffering and oppression of exploited peoples. Yet there is a debate over whether they should be taken down with supporters of statues saying that they are an important part of our historic environment and can teach lessons about the past.

Statues are not always erected in living memory of the subject. There are times in history when statues are erected for political purposes such as those Confederate statues which were erected at the end of World War One, to act as a clarion call to those who opposed the extension of the franchise and the liberation of black people from Jim Crow laws. The Colston statue in Bristol was put up in 1895, many years after his life (he was born in 1636), to recognise his philanthropic work and to encourage the philanthropy of others.

In ancient Greek cities statues were everywhere: statues of gods, athletic heroes, foreign kings, and politicians and mostly of men. There were perhaps 3,000 bronze statues in the cities of Rhodes and Athens alone. Such statues were of the powerful and those who had worked for the community and their subjects were given almost god-like status. They were taken down usually because once overthrown they became hated figures.

Many statues in Europe were put up in the late c19th, many of them by newly independent states attempting to create a national identity. Myths were created around heroes of a previous age to establish links with a glorious past and the values of a previous age. Between 1848 and 1914 major European cities saw the erection of dozens of new statues. Paris had 78 new statues, Berlin 59, London 61 in this age of 'statuomania'. Many of these statues now define those cities. The bronze statue of Joan of Arc is a familiar sight in the Place des Pyramides as is Richard I outside the Palace of Westminster. In Berlin, the statue of Frederick the Great on Unter der Linden cannot be separated from the history of the city as is the case of the Brandenburger Gate which has become a symbol of Germany's changing history and a symbol of peace.

Following the independence of Belgium in 1830, its leaders tried to forge a new national identity and statues were an important part of that project. Such statues honoured figures from the distant past such as Charlemagne, Rubens and Vesalius who were seen to embrace typical Belgian values and to establish a link with the past. Such statues therefore were part of trying to create a particular view of the past. Similarly, in Italy in the 1920s and 30s, Mussolini tried to establish links between his regime and the Roman Empire and erected many statues of figures that were replicas of ancient roman statues. Such statues are now the subject of debates over whether they should remain or not.

How are statues, memorials, and monuments different?

Much of the recent debate has been about the place of statues in our society with little thought being given to memorials and monuments which also play a part in helping us to remember the past. Memorials are often erected to commemorate those who have died in a civilian disaster such as a mining disaster or air crash. They help stimulate feelings of common solidarity and help individuals come to terms with their grief. Private grief becomes easier to bear when shared with others and memorials can help loved ones to come to terms with their losses. Many of our memorials commemorate the dead in Britain's wars and as such can be the target of a minority who see the participants of war as a legitimate target. As a nation we commemorate the dead from both World Wars in an annual Remembrance Day ceremony at the Cenotaph, and we commemorate the many anniversaries of those wars.

Hidden away in museums and archives throughout Britain are sources that can help to provide a different narrative of the empire. I have been working for some time on the letters of General Wolseley who was in India during the Indian rebellion and himself benefitted from the looting of the Imperial Place in Peking and the Asante palace in Kumasi. These letters are stuck away and rarely seen. They should be part of an exhibition that focuses on Wolseley and his life as an imperial general who joined the British army as a cadet and rose to become Commander-in-Chief at the time of the Second Anglo-Boer War.

Brighton was also the home to Ranjitsinhji when he was playing for Sussex in the 1890s and the early 1900s. Ranji, as he was commonly known, was the first non-white to play for England at cricket and indeed for any sport. Yet we have no memorial of him apart from a name on a bus. As a nation we must learn about the British Empire and understand the subjects of the monuments and statues that many wish to knock down.

The past is complicated and different

Figures like Cecil Rhodes were not isolated characters in history who committed acts of evil. They were representatives of a society that believed that Britain was a superior nation which should civilise the world. Rhodes' views on imperialism were shaped by John Ruskin who gave his inaugural lecture at Oxford whilst Rhodes was at Oxford in which he said:

' There is a destiny now possible to us, the highest ever set before a nation to be accepted or refused. Will you youths of England make your country again a royal throne of kings, a sceptred isle, ....This is what England must do or perish: she must found colonies as fast and as far as she is able... seizing every piece of fruitful waste ground she can set her feet on, and there teaching those of her colonists that their chief virtue is to be fidelity to their country, and their first aim is to advance the power of England by land and sea.'

By the 1870s attitudes were changing towards native people and in the Cape Colony there was an increasing tendency to regard Africans as an inferior species incapable of attaining the same standards as whites. These new racist attitudes were justified and given ideological justification by the work of Herbert Spencer in his book, Principles of Biology. Rhodes would have been subjected to the views of both Ruskin and Spencer whilst at Oxford. He was to enunciate his views in his 'Confession of Faith' in 1876: Why should we not form a secret society with but one object, the furtherance of the British Empire and the bringing of the whole uncivilised world under British rule? In a later addition to this will, he stated, Whites have clearly come out on top in the struggle for existence and achieved the highest standard of human existence.

In the Cape Parliament Rhodes needed the support of the Afrikaner Bond in his plans to extend his influence and economic empire to the north. Supporting the Voter Registration Act which had the effect of reducing the black franchise, a policy of the Afrikaner Bund, was one way of getting the parliamentary support he needed. Speaking in Parliament in support of the passage of the bill to reduce the franchise for blacks Rhodes said, Does this House think it is right that men in a state of pure barbarism should have the franchise and the vote? Treat the natives as a subject people...Be the lords over them...The native is to be treated as a child and denied the franchise...We must adopt a system of despotism in our relations with the barbarians of South Africa.

In 1894 when Rhodes visited England as Prime Minister of the Cape Colony, there was hardly a newspaper that did not record his arrival in London. He was welcomed wherever he went, no more so than when he was again invited to stay at Windsor. He was later on this trip to be made a privy councillor, his thanks for extending the empire into Mashonaland and Matabeleland.

Rhodes was a racist and whilst Prime Minister did much to create apartheid, particularly by the passing of the Glen Grey Act. He was though typical of the age in his attitudes towards native people and although there was opposition to his schemes to extend the lands of the British South Africa Company, he did gain the support of the cabinet and much of the British press.

Should we remove statues to museums?

Some commentators have called for statues to be removed to museums. Dr Richard Evans argues that ' toppling monuments does not mean erasing history nor is putting them in a museum a way of removing them from public scrutiny. He says that pulling down statues has nothing to do with history and everything to do with memory.

I would argue that although statues were erected to remember and therefore part of creating our collective memory, they have become important historical sources and have created debate about the past. Who would have heard of Colston and Rhodes if it were not for their statues? We need to make use of such monuments to promote a greater understanding of our imperial past. The Colston statue could have been used with the nearby Edmund Burke statue and Pero's bridge to create an outdoor exhibition on the slave trade. The juxtaposition of the three monuments could have created a public display open to all. Or were the authorities too afraid to contemplate such a project?

Removing statues to museums not only takes away the offending individual from public gaze and scrutiny, but it just re-locates the argument. Many museums now charge an entry fee, so putting a statue in a museum removes it from the view of many, and who is to say that the statue will be just put into storage, due to lack of display space of because the Trustees of the Museum fear a backlash should they display what others have demanded be taken down. We must be strong enough to deal with the issues that certain statues raise and not hide from debate. Putting statues in a museum is tantamount to shutting down public debate because we cannot face up to the controversial issues which are raised.

Do statues help bring about equality and a society built on merit?

Following the Black Lives Matter protest in Brighton, the Council issued a statement about the statues and memorials in Brighton which said, "Following our promise earlier this week to review all plaques, monuments, statues and street names on public land to ensure that we're celebrating legacies that reflect our city's values. I will be taking a statement to a meeting of all councillors which commits Brighton & Hove City Council to becoming an anti-racist council. "This will go much further than ensuring we are fair and inclusive as an employer and public service provider. "This is about recognising who does and doesn't have privilege and how those with privilege can use their power and influence to enable silenced or ignored voices to be heard, remove barriers, and ensure opportunities are open to all, so that everyone gets to live a full life free from discrimination and harm.

The Council is linking the removal of statues with the struggle for equality for black lives. They are two quite different things and the removal of statues does nothing to advance the cause of greater equality in Britain. As a consequence of the Black Lives Matter movement, statues and memorials have become symbols for change and have become targets for demonstrators. If we are to have a more egalitarian and a more democratic society with equal opportunities for all based on merit then we need an education system and a political system based on equal access to all.

The honours system is still used today in Britain and is anachronistic in a modern democracy. The honours system, public schools and the House of Lords are all ways of maintaining the class system which helps to perpetuate the inequalities in society. Focusing on statues is not the real issue as far as improving the condition of non-white groups is concerned. Taking down a statue will do nothing to redress the inequalities in society - in fact, it could set back progress by giving a false impression of progress. Let us focus instead on abolishing the honours system, taking away the charitable status of public schools and abolishing the House of Lords. Only then might we see some improvement in the position in non-white groups.

Replacing statues with better known characters

In 2000, the Mayor of London, Ken Livingstone, suggested replacing the statues with figures more familiar to the general public. This to me is not a solution to ignorance. What we should be doing is to find a way of providing a context to these statues and the role they played in the British Empire. The importance of history has never been greater, and it is important that we not only use statues as a stimulus for learning, but we do far more to develop an understanding of all aspects of the British Empire, especially in our schools. The courses are available, but we should do more to encourage schools to do modules involving the British Empire. At Key Stage Three there is ample opportunity for students to gain an understanding of the nature of empires although at GCSE opportunities are more limited. AQA offers a module in 'Migration and Empire' which is excellent whilst OCR offers at GCSE 'Migration to Britain' and the 'Impact of Empire on Britain'. Unfortunately, not enough students are taking history at either GCSE level or A Level, a situation that needs addressing. Both OCR and AQA offer courses on aspects of empire at A level but we need to encourage more schools to offer these courses.

Statues should be symbols of learning

Knocking down statues because of the pressure from a vocal minority is not the way to determine what happens to our public spaces. If statues are to be contested there should be a democratic process, involving the public, however as Historic England has made clear this should be a last resort. In nearly all cases statues should stay and become symbols of learning. Following the BLM protest in Brighton the Council came out almost straightaway and decided to review all plaques, monuments, statues, and street names on public land to ensure that we're celebrating legacies that reflect our city's values. This was without any discussion on the nature of statues and their role in bringing about social justice for Black people. We need to de-politicize the debate over statues and monuments and have a proper debate over their importance and the role of education.

Local authorities need to be far more imaginative and creative in using statues, memorials, and monuments to further our understanding of empire and the Victorians. Knocking down statues will do nothing to improve our understanding nor will it help bring about a more equal society.

By Peter Crowhurst, August 2020

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What role do statues, monuments and memorials play in modern Britain? - The British Empire

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Can statues promote learning or should they represent current values and be knocked down if they don't? An essay that looks at all the current arguments.