Ha-ha. Very funny Mr Bridgeman.

Last week, on Londonist Time Machine, Matt wrote about some the wornderful details depicted in the Balloon View illustrative map of 1851. The view is looking from North to South: 

I was surprised that he hadn't made special reference to the delineating wall depicted twixt Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. This is a feature that I have been looking myself as further information when  leading tour groups for The Royal Parks. I had planned to dig out and collate my research and leave a comment, but other things got in the way so I parked the idea.

Well, blow me down if Matt didn't follow up in the next few days with a piece on that very subject here. He gives lots of info, but I'm here adding to the pot and throwing in a few curve balls, questions and comparisons. 

First, let's zoom in on the 1951 map to show exactly what I'm talking about. A wall is depicted on three sides of Kensington Gardens with three semi-circular bastions (North, Middle and South) on the eastern side followed by Google's satellite view today for comparison:

My pic below left show the remains of the ditch at the site of the North Bastion which can be found between the small children's playground and West Carriage Drive. An information board stands near the path, Buck Hill Walk:

When George II became king in 1827 he and his wife Caroline set about making their mark on his father's fusty old palace, in much the same way as Mr Tango Trumpington is currently doing with the East Wing of The White House. These important people simply want to make their mark.   

Caroline was keen to create larger palace gardens by nabbing a huge chunk of Hyde Park. In 1728 she engaged the services of Charles Bridgeman, one of the foremost landscape gardeners of that time, and he created features that still endure and delight us today, such as the formal paths and vistas, the Round Pond (which isn’t round) and the Long Water (which isn’t all that long). 

To delineate open park from formal gardens a wall was needed and, rather than creating one above ground, thereby restricting the view from the palace by drawing a line across the landscape, Bridgeman employed a sunken wall and ditch known as a ha-ha. I think it's fair to assume that the walls along the north and south side of the park would have been above ground. 

1851 vs 2025 Google satellite view. Hints of the North and Middle bastions are still evident today but the southern one has disappeared under the Serpentine Gallery

A close-up of what is now Serpentine North Gallery and out buildings, previously marked as 'Guard House' on the 1851 drawing. Part of the middle bastion's wall and ditch is still visible from West Carriage Drive as shown in the second image (rotated view) at the centre, between the trees. 

No-one has as yet come up with a good reason for where the name ha-ha derives from. It's suggested that it denotes exclamation/surprise. But this is clever, not funny. Or, perhaps, people thought it was funny when their friends accidentally fell down the ditch? Ha ha, you silly idiot!

Charles Bridgeman is often credited as being the first to create this kind of sunken wall. If that is the case, then surely he had some kind of name for it and had labelled it as such when he drew up the plan for the gardens. Or, whilst showing his designs to Queen Caroline, he might have said "here we have a bunkleditch" then, confused, she looked at the drawing and laughed favourably, and the name stuck. 

I have also heard that that sunken walls of this kind were already in were in place in France before Bridgman installed this one for Caroline, which would make his the first of its type in England, "and here we have a ha-ha". But again we have woolly hearsay evidence – where in France are/were those other examples? Why has nobody identified those locations

If it is indeed a french concoction, 'ha-ha' doesn't sound very French when you say out loud. Do French people really (also) say that when they are surprised?  I suggest it might be of French origin but the name was original name sounded similar to ha-ha we have ended up with a mis-pronounced and then mis-spelled name that over time has been poorly conveyed, as per many other mis-heard foreign words that we use today.

Having noticed that modern maps make no reference of this old wall, I've dug out some older maps to see how they change over time. It's interesting to also see how many of the other features within the park come and go and how names or uses of buildings have changed. Until the Victoria era, many maps of London do not show anything West of Knightsbridge, so the earliest depiction of the ha-ha is on Bacon's map published in 1888, shown below, left:

Bacon's map shows the ha-ha as almost as an intact feature, although I cannot prove that it actually was as the time. The entrance by the fountains (strangely not annotated) is marked as Buck Hill Gate and was later changed to Marlborough/Westbourne Gate. Note also the lack of other features within both parks apart from the statue of Jenner, moved here from Trafalgar Square after Prince Albert died. The second map is Philips colourful 1892 folding map showing that the Speke memorial has been installed. The path following the edge of the ha-ha is no longer shown. West Carriage Drive was then known as The Ring, part of the circular horse riding and carriage route within Hyde Park which includes North Ride, Broad Walk, Rotten Row, etc.

On both maps, the building that was the 'Guard House' on the 1851 drawing is now marked 'Magazine' which denotes a storage facility. This could allude to a shed for garden implements but it might well be ammunition, hence a magazine of bullets, or a box or container used for anything containing lots of stuff, whether items, words or information as in a printed pamphlet. Any information about what was kept here is welcome. Today the building is a gallery and restaurant.

The next two snaps are from Ward Lock's 1935 guidebook, left, and Bartholomew's Town Plan c1945, right.  

Ward Lock's 1935 map on the left shows the fountains as Water Works, yet Bartholomew labels them as The Fountains. It's interesting how similar these two maps are considering a war separates them, suggesting the two companies employed the same cartographer and Bartholomew simply rehashed the pre-war map. In both instances, a Refreshment House is shown where the South Bastion used to be (now the site of the Serpentine Gallery and seasonal pavilion). Also of interest is that Ward Lock, despite being a guide book, clearly didn't think that its readers would be interested in many well-known and long-established features within the parks such as the Peter Pan statue, the Dog Cemetery or the Bandstand. 

Moving on to the 1950s...

The map on the left is from the 1951 Baedeker guidebook. It's a delightful design, attempting to mark every tree and landmark. Note that the ha-ha is shown as if it's a distinct feature on the landscape and, whilst the southern bastion is no longer visible, the wall is depicted continuing southwards past the 'Tea Rooms' to Alexandra Gate at Kensington Gore.  However, there looks to be an error regarding the annotation of 'The Ring' which is placed west of the ha-ha along the footpath rather than on the road at the other side. I'm also confused by the label of Bennie's Bridge which needs further investigation. The 1953 Geographers' A-Z version on the right makes less off the ha-ha, enhances Peter Pan but omits Jenner. I wonder who they decided these omissions and inclusions.

The last two maps are also Geographers' A-Zs – the one on the left is from my hardback version, purchased in 1979 shortly after I first passed my driving test, here married with the 2001 large spiral bound cabbies' map book that sits adjacent to my desk.

The 1979 map looks friendlier in design and it shows more to see and do than the later version. It also includes the line of the ha-ha, disappeared/omitted from these maps by 2001.

That's it. I'm done.  

More fancy filigree 4-sided forged fencing

Continuing from my last post about an unusual gatepost in Notting Hill, it's no surprise that I have since been scrutinising any similar forged railings and gateposts to see if they sport the same name. 

Whilst I haven't as yet found any more Yates/Haywood marks (calm down, it's only been a fortnight!) I have spotted some other lovely examples of fancy metal boundaries around Regents Park, in particular these beauties in St Andrews Close, a cul-de-sac adjacent to The Royal Society of Physicians:

Each of the four-sided posts tells us they were made by Peachey of Regent Street. There are more fancy railings just around the corner, on MaryleboneRd at the corner of Peto Place facing Gt Portland Street station – the plinths bear the name of May Morritt:

Having just looked in Kelly's 1841 street directory, John Peachey, ironmonger, is listed at 69 Regent Street along The Quadrant here but not within that actual building, the street having been rebuilt in the early twentieth century. Peachey's neighbours included a wine merchant, a carver and gilder, a hatter, a wax chandler and another ironmonger at No. 77 in the name of Thomas Wilkinson. 

It occurs to me as I write this that I have never seen the names of Peachey or Wilkinson on any coal hole covers (ditto Yates/Haywood) which suggests, due to their rather posh addresses, that these two businesses targeted the upper classes, offering bespoke decorative ironmongery for expensive properties, rather than functional items used by the staff, such as tools, coal scuttles and cover plates. 

It's a similar story with May Morritt of 66 Oxford St which is also long gone. Their ironmongery shop, later No.140 when the street was renumbered, was three doors west of Wells Street, adjacent to Adam & Eve Court. The block has been redeveloped many times and is currently a construction site (again) – here's a streetview link to when it was a Burton/TopShop. I am assuming this was was two men, Mr May and Mr Morritt. theirs was also not the only shop of its kind in the immediate vicinity. A few doors along at No.79 there was Mr Robert Parkinson, ironmonger, and White & Sons were on the opposite side of the street at this time, to name just two more examples. As you can see in that last link I've found a few different coal hole cover bearing the name of White & Sons, or similar, theirs being a shop selling all sorts of household requisites, but no covers as yet found showing May, Morritt or Robinson. 

It seems odd to us today to think that shops selling ironmongery of any kind would have been located on major shopping streets that today are known for selling mostly clothes, accessories and coffee, Indeed, by the early 1880s this had already become the case with almost all of the shops along these main thoroughfares offering more personal items such as shoes, dresses, tailoring, tobacco and jewellery.

I'll keep looking for more fancy filigree. You know I will.  

This post can also be found on my Janeslondon Substack 

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A very unusual gate post in Notting Hill and other lovely things in Holland Park Avenue

At the southern end of Clarendon Road, a few minutes' walk from Holland Park station, I happened upon a strange gate post outside number 31. 

The two pics above are screengrabs from Google's streeview facility – I forgot to take any wider shots at the time because I happened to get chatting to a man who was parking outside the property and I felt the need to explain to him why I was so interested in his neighbour's fancy gatepost. As you can see, it is unlike the two rendered brick posts next door. I have never seen the like of it before.

I took a photo of the maker's mark at the base of the post, which also seems to indicate a swing tab cover for a keyhole, and said I'd get back to him if and when I found out more info. 

Yates, Haywood & Co., 95 Upper Thames St, London.

I wondered, being as it is openwork with fancy grilles on all four sides, if it was installed as ventilation for the coal bunker beneath the street. But, why would a coal bunker need to be ventilated?  

Perhaps one of the names mentioned here lived at this address and this was some kind of test piece...? 

This needed further investigation. 

I first looked at Grace's Guide and discovered that YH&Co [sort of] dates back to 1823 as a foundry in Rotherham. They are mostly listed as making stoves grates etc for cooking. Hmm. How bizarre. I'd expected them to be ironmongers, or similar. 

Here's an idea – perhaps this gate post acted as a flue for a stove below ground? The coal bunker might have been used as a boiler room to heat water for the whole house – could this be an early form of central heating...? 

It is odd that the company's London address doesn't get a mention in the Grace's Guide listing until the 1920s. Yet, surely, this gatepost design is late Georgian/early Victorian, as per most of the houses along this part of Clarendon Rd...?  The GG listing also includes a photo of a pair of almost identical gateposts in New South Wales, Australia(!) – if you zoom in on that pic you will see that they bear the same London address panel, but I think they are there merely decorative rather than functional. 

Let's have a look at the old Kelly's directories... The company is clearly listed in 1899: 

The main address is highlighted in pink, with other businesses in nearby streets shown in orange – Abchurch Yard and Laurence Poultney Hill are both a stone's throw from Upper Thames Street. I'm also wondering if the chimney builders in Bow were also part of the Yates family. However, I can't see any similar businesses purely in the name of Haywood. 

Going further back, this is 1882:

In that same year, 1882, we find members of the Yates family at very nice addresses – John Yates at 37 Eardley Crescent, Earls Court (now a hotel) and Charles Francis Yates at 9 Provost St, Chalk Farm (a delightful street of paired Georgian cottages).

But, here is the gold dust – George Harris Haywood at 8 Clarendon Road:

Whoo hoo! This would have been the address of the house in question before the street was renumbered – today's No.15 would have been No.1 making the house with the fancy gate post the eighth house in the street (the slightly houses adjacent to/south of No.1 are set back from the terrace and would have had a different name). 

This, in my mind, corroborates my idea that the gate post is part of a heating innovation installed at George's family home that perhaps was never rolled out for a wider market. 

As to when the gatepost was installed, Kelly's 1952 London directory lists George Haywood (senior) at the Effingham Works (I don't have immediate access to the private addresses for that year) and I am not sure if any of the Yates addresses shown below, specifically George senior in Earls Court and Charles at Argyle St, Kings Cross, are linked to the company. 

Having checked all these residential addresses via streetview (and the others mentioned previously) I cannot see any other similar gateposts so, for the time being, this is where my sleuthing ends. Any further info is most welcome. 

On the subject of fancy metalwork, returning to Clarendon Road, the houses that once formed numbers 1-3 have very wide steps (probably to allow for those hooped skirts) which are flanked by wonderfully undulating metalwork on both sides, and pairs of boot scrapers.

I continued my walk southwards towards Holland Park and stopped to take pics of this old shop sign, the history of which I will look into another day:

Then to the junction with Holland Park Avenue, where I admired the exterior of The Castle pub and searched in vain for a Doulton maker's mark.

On the side of the pub there is a remnant of a poster that itself looks like an artwork. It reads, I think, "Come out" in reverse, as if the glue was applied for that very purpose:

I then recalled that there is a fabulous old shop interior along this stretch – Lidgate the butcher. I had never been inside before. Wow. Do check it out if you are passing, or want to purchase quality meat from a well-established butcher with kudos. As I was making my way out a voice said 'hello' – it was the man I had met earlier parking his car in Clarendon Road! 

Which is older – Lidstone or the gatepost?

Finally... the late afternoon sun softly illuminating the northern side of Holland Park Avenue that day was gorgeous. I wasn't the only one admiring and taking photos of the houses along there.

One of the houses sports a fire insurance marker in a design I can't quite make out, the camera on my old iPhone is not good enough to zoom in that far. Let me know if you can identify it as it doesn't look like any of these.

The Hat & Feathers, Clerkenwell – another ghostsign deciphered

The Hat and Feathers, public house and restaurant, No2 Clerkenwell Road, at the junction with Goswell Road, has finally reopened after sitting empty (again) for many years. 

Here's a couple of pics from recent years c/o Google streetview:

In 1981 this architectural slice of iced celebration cake was awarded a Grade II listing by English Heritage. Since the 2010s it has rarely been open. In mid-2021 it was slathered in scaffolding and given a wash and brush up and a fresh lick of primrose yellow paint.

Walking past in April 2024 I crossed the junction to take a closer look (actually to peek inside the windows!) and, as I waited for the lights to change at the crossing, I noticed that the gilded glass signage had not yet been replaced such that some earlier hand-painted wooden signs were visible. I took a few photos with the intention to decipher the layered letters later that week. 

Er... sixteen months later and I've finally revisited those photos. As I always say, I need at least six parallel universes to accomplish all the things I want to do, the places I want to see, the things I want/need to research, all the food I need to buy, cook and eat, and then, of course there's sleeping and watching old movies and reading books and simply just looking at views, or wandering the streets as a Flaneuse de Londres ... and people often ask me why I don't write a book about all the stuff I talk about. Duh! Anyway, I digress (this also happens a lot!) – let's back to the uncovered signage.

Luckily, a google streetview from the great reveal in July 2024 is available:

It's interesting, not just in regard to the pub, but also that it allows us to compare the buildings around it – I always loved that ghostly staircase on a side wall at the rear which resembled a patchwork quilt, now replaced by a dull grey lump.

Here are my photos of the hand-painted signage that is now again hidden behind the reinstalled glass and gilded strips. These are supplied left to right as you read top to bottom: 

Look closely to see that there are two signs, one painted over the other. The more faded, possible newer sign, reads HARRY TAYLOR in a reddish tone, and the more discernible, smaller pale yellow letters announce TAYLOR'S CORNER. Note the drop shadows and the full point at the end.  

On the Goswell Road side there is another panel that is harder to read – SPIRIT MERCHANT:

This possibly suggests that Harry Taylor was so well-known and, this being a local landmark, the junction became known by his name. However, I cannot thus far find an era when any Taylor was charge at this pub, let along a Harry or Henry. 

There has been a Hat & Feathers pub at the junction with Goswell Road since the 1780s. In 1841, the proprietor was a Mrs Elizabeth Fuller* and the address is shown as 164 Goswell Street, it then being a continuation of Goswell Road, today known as the only 'road' in the City of London, an oft-asked question in London pub quizzes! 

In 1895 the proprietor/landlord/owner/manager is shown as George Ledson, followed in 1899 by Alfred Abbott. By1910 Alfred John Stevens is the man calling last orders, then Harry Chapman in 1915. I therefore think the signs are either slightly earlier, or they make reference to an earlier era, so let's go back a bit further to before the creation of Clerkenwell Rd in the 1870s, when the stretch of road from Goswell St/Rd to St John Street was called Wilderness Row – how evocative!

The 1841 and1852 directories both show James Taylor's birmingham warehouse at No.6 Wilderness row, Clerkenwell. Whilst it's commonplace to see lower case letters on the second part of a street name such as row, road or street, it's odd to see this lower case 'b' on a city name. It could, I suppose, denote a type of product rather than a warehouse full of little Birminghams. Or, perhaps, this warehouse contained products that came from or went to that city. Two doors along at No.8 there's another Taylor, a watchmaker.

Of the 38 properties listed for Wilderness Row in 1841, approx half of them are linked to the watchmaking, engraving or jewellery trades.  Checking back to the late Victorian directories for 1882 and 1899 I now see that a Mr James Taylor is listed as a 'foreign bead importer' at No 10 Clerkenwell Rd. With the renumbering of the streets this is likely to be the same location that was previously Wilderness Row. The word warehouse back then often doubled as store/shop. Perhaps Taylor sold semi-precious beads for the jewellery trade?  

But who was Harry Taylor and why was his name around the Hat & Feathers pub?  Until someone with better access to the archives can come a definitive explanation, my suggestion is that the Taylors of Wilderness Row might have snapped up property along the newly-built Clerkenwell Road and were behind the rebuild of the pub we see today – Harry might have been a father's or his son's name. If a member of the Taylor family was the landowner/freeholder here he would not be listed as such in the directories, the usual practice being to show the pub name and/or the manager/proprietor. Hence the lack of the pub's name in the 1882 directory which shows it simply as 'James Smith, coffee rooms' with 'Best & Co' at the Goswell Road side. 

Any further ideas are most welcome, either in the comments or via janeslondon@gmail.com 

* I wonder if Mrs Fuller is/was connected to Fullers Brewery which was founded in that same era...?

Bowling balls in Clerkenwell – a ghostsign with links to Putney and the West Indies

Earlier this year in May, walking eastward along Albermarle Way during Clerkenwell Design Week, I noticed that a the paint that covers 122 St John Street, (today Savills estate agent) was finally degrading some letters were visible at the very top edge. I have finally found the time to return to this to work out what this ghostsign can tell us.

The tall condensed sans serif letterform shows "TAYLOR ROLP..." – Taylor Rolph Co Ltd, bowling green bowl makers.

This screenshot from Google streetview 2015 shows the ghostsign was barely discernible back then

It appears that Taylor-Rolph (often, but not consistently, hyphenated) was here perhaps only ten years max. Kelly's Directory lists them in 1915, but not in 1910, and they are gone by the 1930s. Indeed, they appear to have moved from this site by 1922 as per this entry in  Graces Guide which shows them at Fitzgerald Works, Mortlake, that year, at a site which was also home to John Wisden's cricket equipment*. This suggests to me that the same factory was making both TR's woods (bowls) and JW's cricket balls. 

My search for more information led me to the marvellous Sport of Bowls site which includes images from TR's 1935 catalogue, their "Rytebias" bowling balls and this article about the heavy Lignum Vitae timber imported from the West Indies and Haiti, hence them being known as woods. There's also this article about testing the finished items and an ad for Taylor-Rolph's table bowls, promoted as "a scientific and interesting game" akin to the many forms of table-top billiards available at that time, but played without cues/sticks. 

In the 1939 Kelly's directory, TR is listed with a telephone number Prospect 2241 yet the Wisden company does not show one. Hmm, ponder ponder. 

It's strange to me that there is no mention of Taylor-Rolph within the Mortlake history site. The Fitzgerald Works was destroyed during a 1944 WWII bomb raid, yet the Graces Guide link above shows that TR was still in business in 1947 and continuing to exhibit at The British Industries Fair at Olympia. 

It's all a bit messy and inconclusive, but it's nice to have been able to decipher the ghostsign in St John Street.

Back in the period 2005-8, I used to bowl occasionally, randomly, half-heartedly, at the North London Bowling Club at Highgate which sits in a delightful location, surrounded by trees, looking very much like the setting for an Agatha Christie whodunnit. Here's one of the many photos I took for a leaflet I created for the club:

The sport is a delight and, to my puerile mind, rather amusing vis the terminology used, as it often includes some fnar fnar double-entendres – if you've ever bowled you'll know what I mean!

Here are some more pics I took of the Highgate Club in 2008 – I haven't visited in over 15 years, I hope it still looks like this:

*Incidentally, there is a lovely tiled memorial to John Wisden at Leicester Square station within the oxblood exterior of the 1906 street level building. Wisden lived and died in an upstairs flat above No.21 Cranbourn Street. 

More things that don't add up – John Marshall and Emily Davison in Newcomen Street

The Kings Arms in Newcomen Street, one of many excellent pubs in the little side streets off Borough High Street, sports a colourful depiction of the lion and the unicorn above its door. Nice. The pub has been painted a bright shade of green since I took the pic below back in March 2025. 

On the opposite side of the street there are two large buildings that are boarded up, waiting to be renovated*. These buildings or, rather, the information on them, intrigues me.

Above the entrance to number 66 there is the name John Marshall with two dates given in Roman numerals:

The date on the right side is 1853. But I'm struggling with the date on the left which looks like MDCFFOII, from which I deduce is 17th century but I cannot tie it up with either the date he died or the  the date his church was constructed, more of which you can read here. Eight distinctly different faces adorn the building either side of the four street level windows. I am not sure who they depict, if anyone specific at all.  

To the left of this building is Emily Davison House, a terrace of 5 houses. A plaque on it tells us it was  'purchased by Guys Hospital in 1959 as a bequest by Mrs Emily Davison' which, in most places I have looked, is attributed to Emily Wilding Davison, the Suffragette who died at the Epsom Derby in 1913. This would mean that she made a very forward-thinking bequest for some time in the distant future. 

It's worth noting that the lady on the plaque is a Mrs, yet the Suffragette never married. Also, EWD did not die at Guys Hospital, but near the incident at Epsom. I am still trying to fully find out if/how the two ladies are connected. Any additional info is more than welcome. 

*often referred to as 'gentrification' – a word that makes no sense these days. I very much doubt that any lords and ladies or members of the landed gentry will be in need of a tahn harse here. 

Alperton station – no escalator, but a rather fine shopping arcade

A couple of months ago I went to investigate Alperton station, a Piccadilly Line stop along the Uxbridge branch. The outer reaches of this line, westwards from Acton Town and northeastwards from Finsbury Park, are all part of Frank Pick's 1930's 'Metroland' expansion, with most of the stations designed by Charles Holden in a variety of Art Deco styles. It's his boxy style that we see at Alperton. 

I'd made this special journey to Alperton because I had read that there is no escalator or lift access in place at this station. An up-only escalator had been installed in 1955 on this eastbound side, relocated from the 1951 Festival of Britain on the Southbank but, by the late 1980s due to lack of use, the moving staircase was bricked up/enclosed behind a wall. 

This all sounded a bit strange to me. I mean, why/how etc? Is is still partly visible? Is there a secret panel? Is it still accessible (to some)?  Hearing that there are now plans to install a new escalator service at Alperton I decided to go and investigate and see for myself how the old one had been bricked up. Perhaps the people of Alperton had less need for travel and the cost of the maintenance outweighed the money that punters/passengers/clients spent on tickets. Enclosing the thing was probably the cheapest option.

I arrived from the via the eastbound line and, as I glanced across the platform I couldn't help but think that the three electricity doodahs opposite, looked like little medieval metal soldiers standing guard!

The old escalator surely must have been parallel and to the left of the stairs that lead down from the eastbound platform to the ticket barriers. I examined the walls at platform level but could see no obvious patches where an arch/access might have been (perhaps brickies in the 1980s were better at patching-in than they they are these days as per the mess in Bloomsbury, here). 

At the bottom of the stairs I scanned the walls at the rear of the concourse and also found not a hint of repair work. The whole thing looks silky smooth and original 1930s to me.

Ah, here's a thought...  having just looked at via Google's globe view it's likely that the 1950's escalator was not installed within the 1930's station but around the outside to the rear – as is evident by some lower additions that hug the building – these might contain what's left of our moving stairway. The planned new escalator will likely be sited in more or less the same space. Any remnants of the dusty old one will have to be removed and replaced as it will be completely out of date, probably sporting those dangerous, albeit evocative, slatted wooden treads.

As regards a similar service for the other side of the tracks, it's problematical vis the lack of space, the railway bridge and the interior foot tunnel, shown in the top left above. I've heard a way around this might necessitate the loss of [some of] the shops at the front, so I went to investigate to understand for myself how that might be achieved. 

Here's the outside of the station, with curved glass kiosk windows in the foreground:

Here's a wider view. I love it, although I'm not convinced that these small shops that back onto the railway bridge were part of Holden's original station design. The shape and style does not tally or line up with elements on the main station building and the colour of the bricks is slightly different, hinting at it being a later development.

I understand that the idea here is to create a new/secondary entrance to the westbound side within/through these kiosks that will allow access to or space for an escalator, or perhaps a lift service. This would mean the current barbershop, which has been there since 2019, could be for the chop (see what I did there?!).

I had a peek at the other side of the bridge, but there's nothing much to see there, so I made my way back to the front of the station and, as I turned back (always check the opposite view because you might have missed something), I happened to notice a strange little lantern that looks out of place and, behind it, a metal ventilation strip running around the curve of the shop with some brass letters at the top right corner, so I took a closer look...

I love the way the o of Co sits within the C. 

This is the sort of thing that gets me excited!  E. Pollard & Co Ltd is a company I am a little bit obsessed and impressed by. Founded in 1895, the company at first offered window fittings and other items for shop display, and swiftly became one of London's most prestigious and well-respected shop-fitting and building companies, transforming not just shops and stations, but also libraries, banks and hotels. Pollard had impressive showrooms in Clerkenwell and at 299 Oxford Street (now Uniqlo). I have also written about the company's curved glass windows here.

Buoyed by this find, I then scanned the rest of the station's exterior and interior to see if if I could find any other similar marks, but no. I shall henceforth, yes, henceforth, be searching for the same or similar at other stations and on any façade that looks like it might be a Pollard's build. Please do let me know if you spot any yourself.

October 2025 - Pollard update – I've found more at other stations! I'll share my findings soon.