A Mayfair manhole cover containing remnants of wood paving

I found another one! I'd just exited Marble Arch station on Park Lane east side and as I crossed North Row I noticed that the man hole within the tarmac still retains some wood block paving within three of its segments.

View looking back towards Marble Arch

Heading eastwards, the first road to the right along North Row is Dunhaven St (previously Norfolk St) which, back in the days of horse-drawn carriages, would surely have been lined in stables that backed onto the expensive houses that faced Hyde Park. The wood blocks would have kept clippity-cloppity street noise to a minimum. 

Two minutes' walk away along Park Lane, there's another unusual example.

You'll find many more of my sightings in the A-Z list here – please let me know if you spot any others. 

St James's Place and Blue Ball Yard– so much to see

I popped in to St James's Hotel and Club yesterday afternoon to have a chat with Graham, the head concierge. We swopped stories and observations about London's quirks and unusual details and he asked me whether the lamp in adjacent Blue Ball Yard was a still powered by gas. Hmm. I didn't know, so I went to check it out.
I'd done a lot of research on gas lamps last year when planning my walking tours on the subject, so it was strange how I'd not previously investigated this particular little enclave of streets between St James's Street and the park. 

Blue Ball Yard* today gives access to the rear of The Stafford Hotel's American Bar and, yes, the wall-mounted lamp at the left side is indeed a functioning gas lantern. There is another one at the far end but it is hard to access so I'm not sure if that one too is also powered by gas. See the google streetview here.

It occurred to me that there surely must be other gas lamps in the vicinity. A logical idea, being as St James's Palace, The Mall, Carlton Terrace and St James's Park were all mostly lit by gas during the reign of George IV, so it follows that the well-to-do streets here would also be similarly illuminated.

I ventured into St James's Place, the next street down, and immediately found another wall-mounted lamp on the left of the street at No.44 and two more opposite at No2 and No8 (the green plaque commemorates Sir Francis Chichester) with a similar lantern down the turning to the left that leads to the Duke Hotel and a tall standard lamp at the end of the yard. On the left side there's also a row of low level lanterns that appear to have been completely disconnected.

More tall standard lamps can be found at the western end of the main street. most of which marked GeorgeV 1910. I'm surprised they aren't older being as others in the St James's area date from the reign of George IV.  

I counted eleven gas-powered street lamps in St James's Place and this doesn't include those on privately-owned buildings such as the impressive pair outside Spencer House or the one above the door of the Royal Ocean Racing Club, shown below centre. 

I also found some other interesting oddities along the road. For instance, there are only a few coal hole cover plates. All of them sport geometric patterns rather than overt branding although some bear the name Mason, see below left .

There is a bizarre circular cover plate near the lamp at No.45 with brass letters bearing the name of F. Devereux, silversmith, who, I am assuming lived/worked there. These discs usually show the name of the foundry/ironmonger who made/sold the plate. I've looked in old directories but I can't see anyone by the name of Devereux here. Instead, the address is listed as a lodging house in 1882 through to at least 1915 when it's shown as apartments. Any ideas?  

At the far corner, at No 26 there is a twentieth century building that you could say looks out of place with the rest of the street. It's not an office block but a Grade II* luxury apartment building designed by Sir Denys Lasdun and constructed 1959-60. It sports a RIBA architecture award plaque (that I forgot to photograph) but what I particularly like about it is the zeitgeist 1950s typeface used on some of the signage – it's very Univers Condensed Bold Italic. 

Back to the street furniture and metalwork...  just before the entrance to The Stafford Hotel, almost underneath one of the wall-mounted gas lanterns, is a rectangular man hole cover. If you've read my previous posts about this kind of thing you are probably ahead of me here in guessing that this contains twelve little squares of wood block paving, see above right which I'll add with better photos to my next group of wood block findings in another post soon (ooh the excitement!).

Finally, at the far end of the street, there is a little alley off to the right that leads to the rear gate of the St James's Hotel, the building in which I had started this mini-journey. The sunlight on the buildings yesterday afternoon was amazing, making it look more like somewhere in Italy. 

*Blue Ball Yard – I'd been mis-calling it Blue Bell Yard ever since yesterday. I originally thought it was ref to a flower or a hanging bell that with a clapper that was coloured blue. But no, it's a ball. But what blue ball? Is it a game? Was it a sign for something?  There are other Blue Ball pubs in the UK, but I have yet to find out the significance of the name. And Cabbie Blog in this link also gets his bells and balls confused. Incidentally, if you haven't already read his book about his life and observations doing The Knowledge and driving customers around London, I wholeheartedly recommend it. 

Criminal loss of curved Art Deco windows at Balenciaga, New Bond Street

I am often to be heard talking about how surprising it is that many of the marvellously constructed and well-embellished buildings along Old/New Bond Street are not listed at least Grade II. This, I assumed/hoped was because the kind of companies who trade here are aware and proud of the beautiful buildings in which their products were being sold and they simply look after the heritage they inherit. Indeed, one only has to look at the excellent revamp by Victoria's Secret at the northern end of New Bond Street, where many of the modern shopfittings installed a decade ago were cleverly created with modern products to appear as if they have been there since the 1930s. The outside of that building is stunning, never mind the gorgeous glass staircase inside.  

But this post is about what I believe is criminal damage/wanton destruction at 24-25 New Bond St, on the corner of Conduit Street, where beautiful, possibly unique, curved windows at ground level that meandered in and out of the supporting columns as a wavy curtain of glass, shown above (Google Streetview screengrab) are no longer there.  

Form the late 1930s, this building used to be home to C. J. Lytle Ltd, as shown by this marvellously evocative pic from 1948. More recently, until 2020, it was a branch of Russell & Bromley who made excellent use of the undulating glass as shown in the Google streetview pic above. When R&B moved out, the windows were individually covered, as shown in my pic below from Feb2021. Phew, I thought, the are being protected, they'll be fine.

When Balenciaga took over the building they installed big bright green hoardings around the curtilage (I love that word!) as shown here in June2021. I continued to naively assume that this was to protect the lovely windows, that they were simply performing a bit of TLC behind there. I mean, who would remove what surely must be some of the best curved glass in London? 

But last Easter weekend, whilst walking past, leading a guided tour, I stopped in my tracks, exclaimed, "No!" and then had to explain to the group why I was so shocked, even though this was not the subject of the walk on that day.

The gorgeous curves and undulations have been removed and replaced. The windows are now flat plate glass and the columns have been boxed in. Balenciaga are so proud of their new boxy space that on their website here they call this 'a treat' – I call it a 'blandification' and I think Villanelle, that character in BBC's Killing Eve who has been pictured sporting Balenciaga's expensive boots, would call this renovation "BORE-RING!"

It's amazing that Balenciaga didn't go the whole hog and install chickenshop-style UPVC doors and windows as this is barely a step up from that. I am so upset. But you understood that paragraphs ago(!).

It occurred to be that the gorgeous glass curves were very similar to other excellent shop fronts created and installed by Pollards such as here and I was hoping that when those green hoardings came down I might be able to find one of Pollards' patent marks embedded in the metal edges. But now that's not possible. And, to add insult to injury, I was convinced that I had taken some good close-up photos of those curved windows a while back when R&B was still trading here, and was hoping that I could include those images as slides for one of my online talks about Art Deco buildings, but now, frustratingly, I now cannot find them. Let's hope they show up and it's just because I simply didn't get around to naming the files. 

Update March2026– I still haven't found those pics. But here's a curve-ball... I have found evidence of the corner of Conduit Street in 1948 here on RIBA pix, which clearly shows that the curved windows were not a pre-war concoction. It shows that Russell & Bromley were already there at that time and they must have installed the undulating glass at a later date, I know not when. 

It's a huge loss when cleverly-designed bespoke elements are renovated or removed. A similar example can be found at No.1 New Bond Street at the Ralph Lauren flagship store, a building that resembles a Byzantine-style palace which, in 1939, was home to The National Provincial Bank, F.W.Woolworths, CondeNast publishing, and offices of the aforementioned C.J.Lytle advertising before they moved to the Balenciaga site later that year. Today the Ralph Lauren store sports plate glass at street level but here's a link to how it used to look in 1955. I do not know when the ground floor windows were altered, although many buildings of this type suffered blandifications in the 1960s and 1970s in an attempt to remove what was then seen as fussy embellishments. A similar thing occurred at the Louis Vuitton store, on the corner of Clifford Street but, on the plus side, LV must be commended for a revamp a few years ago when they altered the lower external façade to echo the designs within the upper floors, which is marvellous.

Let's hope that the curved glass windows have been repurposed elsewhere. If I find out more, I will add to this post.

The Balenciaga and the Ralph Lauren buildings feature on my Burlington Deco guided walk which is all about the shops, clubs and designer goods of the Jazz Age and 1930s. 

Another ghostsign – Benjamin, Shepherd Market, Mayfair

You probably think all I look for and write about about these days is ghost signs. Well, that's not true – I've got a folder fit to bursting with mosaics, ironwork, etched glass, architecture from all eras, parks, gardens, and lots more that I just haven't the time to collate. 

It's just that when I spot a faded sign on a wall I stand there scribbling notes that, when I look at them later, are almost undecipherable (just like the sign!), hence I do the research for these asap, while it's all fresh in my mind. This is exactly what happened yesterday when I was walking around Shepherd Market in Mayfair, planning an idea for a guided walk in the area. 

I'm surprised I haven't written about this sign before, or indeed this enclave of delightful little streets which still has that village feel. It's not as if I have only just noticed it. I rather assumed, with it being so obvious that someone else had written it up already, but that doesn't appear so. 

The sign sits above the corner shop, today No.34 Shepherd Market. However, back in the day this was No.8 Market Street, as is clearly shown by the hand-painted street sign. 

N. BENJAMIN / TRUNKS & BAGS for all CLIMATES. 

There is also some over-painting, mostly in the secondary line, so the name and the product/service could be from two different eras. 

In 1910 Edwin Alexander Atkins, trunkmaker, was at this address and this ties in perfectly with the products offered, but the name is wrong. He also had another shop opposite at No.10 selling boots (sort of where I took this photo from)

The sign is evidently for Nathaniel Benjamin, portmanteau dealer, who, in the same year, was next door to the boot shop at No.12. Tho why Atkins would want the name of his immediate competitor advertised on his own building is beyond me. Perhaps these men were related. Or perhaps Atkins offered smaller bags whist Benjamin offered larger ocean-going luggage for those Grand Tour experiences and the two companies bounced off each other? 

H. V. Morton mentions this shop in his wonderfully engaging book Ghosts of London first published in Nov 1939:

As ever, any further info welcome.

Update May 2026 – I recently found this pic below showing the street in 1967 (a screen shot from my phone) – the photo and info about it can be found on London Picture Archive here.

Ron Mueck at the Thaddaeus Ropac Gallery – Wow in all respects

I had no idea about this superb gallery until I walked inside the door of this unassuming, yet beautifully renovated, Georgian house in Dover Street earlier this week. My friend and I had gone there to see the impressively realistic sculptures created by Ron Mueck and neither of us were ready for the place to be, what has been quoted as, possibly the loveliest gallery in London. 

As we entered Thaddaeus Ropac's gallery we were immediately impressed by the gorgeous wide hallway that leads through to a large room at rear of the building where three of Mr Mueck's pieces are displayed, a room I assume was once used for soirees, dancing or entertainment. Above the receptionist's desk in the hallway there is a gorgeous lightwell in the ceiling that offers tempting views of the floors above and I imagined young ladies looking down dressed in ballgowns, giggling as their party guests arrived.

Ron Mueck's pieces arranged over the ground and first floor, accessed by a superb marble staircase. His works are always oversized or undersized, never lifesize, and I find them absolutely fascinating, which is odd because I am not a fan of photo-realistic paintings. Perhaps it's the scale thing. This exhibition is a selection of 25 years' work and I distinctly recall my sense of awe the first time I saw Dead Dad at the Sensation exhibition and his overly-large Crouching Boy within the Body Zone at the Millennium Dome, in 2000. 

Another bonus – a room immediately to the left of the front door contains a small Marcel Duchamp exhibition – oh what a provocative naughty boundary-pushing man he was!

Everything about this gallery is worth going to see. Oh, and it's free. What's not to like?!