A walk from Ealing Broadway to Acton Central

Last Tuesday I met my friend Sue for a wander in West London. We met outside Ealing Broadway station and, before we set off along the Uxbridge Rd towards central London, I wanted to show her a lovely shop I had discovered a while ago when I was out on one of my 'where does this bus go to' mystery routes. Just north of the station, facing Haven Green, passing a sign for squash courts that sits above an earlier hand-painted sign for squash courts, there is a beautiful old chemist's shop: 

36 The Broadway still bears the name of D. L. Lewis set in metal across the granite front and within a panel in the entrance way. There is also a more recent neon sign within the window.

The sinuous letterbox is also lovely, as are the flourishy figures used for the door numbers at either side of the entrance. It all screams fin-de-siecle Art Nouveau.

When I had been there last year, the shop had been closed and I could only peer in through the plate glass, but this time it was possible to go inside – and what a treat!

Much of the front part of the shop is original as regards the shelving, storage and display areas. The floor has been cleverly covered in a herringbone wood effect lino and this continues to the rear section where a faux panelled ceiling is also in place, no doubt evoking what used to be there in the 1900s. The shelves showcase many old bottles that once contained all sorts of poisons and potions no longer available to us, and I particularly like the huge blue and green droplet-shaped bottles.

We walked back past the station and found another shop of particular note – Paddy Power's betting shop at 7 The Mall is absolutely gorgeous and clearly dates from the same era as the chemist's shop:

It's sublime – the central threshold contains a terrazzo 5-pointed star motif flanked by carved and bent wood and curved glass, with a mirror'd ceiling in six sections that I have tried my best to photograph without being the star attraction myself. 

However, many of the other shops further along the terrace are empty and in a poor state of repair such as these four here and I am concerned about their future. Many of the coal hole cover plates along this stretch bear the name of White & Son of Oxford Street which dates them to the late 1880s – read more within here.

We crossed the road walked towards Ealing Common where, on the northern edge, there is a marker telling us we are 6 miles from London (Charing Cross) and 9 miles from Uxbridge.

I wrote about a similar metal mile marker here. This Ealing one dating from 1832 appears to have lost a motif in the top section.

We continued across the common, admired the handsome trees, had a half of ale in the garden of The Grange public house, investigated the exterior of the nearby church and pondered at the relevance of this gateway to Warwick Dene:

We wondered if Fraser's Patent Disinfecting Apparatus was something to do with farming and sheep dips. But I now think it's more likely linked to laundry, this being a hanging mechanism to suspend large items in a large vat underneath it. I've spent ten mins looking for decent info and I give up, though I have found this about a similar manufacturer.

The residential properties that abut the common on the south side, along and around Elm Avenue, remind me of similar estates in Gidea Park, indeed many of the street names are similar. Man hole cover plates in the roads show the name of pre-LCC 'Corporation of Ealing'.

 

At Ealing Common tube station we stopped to admire the gorgeous octagonal Art Deco interior (detail, above left) and, opposite the station, we found a green plaque for computer-whizz and poet's daughter Ada Lovelace, this being near to a house she lived in, since demolished. 

Approaching Acton Central's shopping zone Sue peeled off to catch the tube. I continued along to The Vale and then back again to see if much had changed since I last visited. The ghostsign for Dadd's boots store has gone, the space now cleverly filled in with a building of the same Victorian design. 

I then made my way to the overground line via Churchfield Road, a street that still retains hints of its middle class Victorian past including another large slab of York stone outside No 35 and the carved and gilded, yet faded, sign for C. Wright, ladies' and children's outfitter at No. 31:

Another nice day!

You might also like this piece about another ghostsign in Acton.

Dulwich Festival May 2025 – art and open studios, ghostsigns and more

This time last week I was wandering around East Dulwich in the sunshine. The Dulwich Festival covers a ridiculously large area from Denmark Hill in the North to the edges of Crystal Palace in the South – and it's impossible to see it all...!

It's a logistics nightmar, but well worth it – you have plan your visits across both weekends, taking careful consideration to work out which houses/studios were open on which days. Last year I discovered some amazing artists such as Jess Blandford and Octavia Millar, to name just two. 

Art Deco in Peckham High Street and an an old Express Dairies outlet in the backstreets of East Dulwich

This year I only had half a day. I arrived at Peckham Rye station at about 1.30pm and started getting destracted by the buildings around me. Stop Jane. Focus!  Managing to walk past a second hand book store and other tempting delights in Bellenden Rd, I headed first to Caroline Bowder-Ridger's house where I found that her paintings and collages aren't the only fab things in her beautiful home. 

From there, I headed to the local fair on Goose Green – more distractions! Lots of great stalls and sideshows, then southwards along Lordship Lane, checking on old shop fronts that I already know about and a John Eddowes coal hole cover (I wonder, was he related to Catherine?) and stupidly wasting more valuable viewing time by popping into a few tempting shops along the way, all of which are open any ol' day. 

Then left into North Cross Road, where there hints of bygone shops are evident in the architecture and signage as per a half a painted sign (for Dartmouth, Cheesemonger?) and a bakery at the corner where HOVIS can be seen peeking through the paint set on a diagonal within a bricked-in window: 

I then visited Jess where Jane Hughes, another talented lady, was also exhibiting, and finished my journey by dropping in on Mia Cavaliero, an old friend I haven't seen in decades – over beer and olives we reminisced about a painting holiday we both enjoyed in Dolceaqua 1993.

A really lovely day.

Hackney metal – another vitreous enamel sign is missing in Hoxton

Yesterday, wandering down Hoxton Street and, as I approached its southern end, I stopped to sigh at the old timber merchant's shop where, approx two years ago an enamel sign was still in place. Here is my pic from 2008 when it looked bright and shiny:

Sad to see it gone but the this allows us to see a hand-painted sign for the same company that had been covered for many decades. I took a quick snap and turned to look at the pair of signs high up on the other side of the street – oh gawd – the top one's gone:

The view used to look like this (Google streetview 2022):

I wondered why someone would remove the top panel that said CABINET but leave the lower one BENCHES. Surely the top one was harder to access? Was this stolen to order for someone called Cabinet?! Perhaps it had something to do with the House of Commons?!

Concerned about this, it brought to mind the missing telephone signs and I remembered that there is another enamel sign in Hackney, so I hopped on a bus and headed to Homerton to check a corker that sits almost at eye-level. Well, I am glad to report that it's still there:

It's actually looking better than ever, the Odgen's Guinea-Gold tobacco ad now more visible, the layers of paints having further eroded. It's also easier to see how the sign was repurposed – the word FURNITURE can be seen through the middle and AMH 2868 (Amhurst phone code for part Hackney – more about these codes here)

Here's how it looked in 2008:

Thinking about the missing CABINETS sign, having now checked my old photos and this pic by Maggie Jones, it's clear that there was a nasty and very rusty crack across it. I therefore deduce that due to its poor condition, this section has been removed for H&S reasons. That, or the erosion was so bad that it fell apart? I've also discovered that it's been missing since at least January 2025.

Any further info welcome, whether in the comments or via email: jane@janeslondon.com

Kensington Gore – hot and cold and nine miles from Hounslow

Lowther Lodge, is a lovely GII* red brick building at 1 Kensington Gore, facing Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens as seen here. The house was built in the 1870s for William Lowther, MP, designed by architect Richard Norman Shaw who is also responsible for the Bedford Park Estate adjacent to Turnham Green. 

In 1912, Lowther Lodge was sold to the Royal Geographical Society and, over subsequent decades, the property was extended to include a library, a lecture theatre, offices and other facilities. One distinctive addition is the hall/meeting room at the junction with the Exhibition Road which is adorned with many things that please me – a distance marker, a bench mark, two statues and some street names.  

First, the white metal sign, dated 1911, showing the distances East to Hyde Park Corner and West to Hounslow. This has always intrigued me because I doubted that Hyde Park was a full mile away, but having now checked using my trusty string and wall map I can confirm it as a fact. Similarly, the marker that sits further up the road outside The Milestone Hotel is definitely half a mile away. 

This heavy metal information post is quite amusing as regards its details which have been crudely enhanced in black paint, making the lion and the unicorn appear as comedy cartoon characters and the manicules look more like random blobs rather than elegant pointing hands.

Marks on the bricks indicate that it used to be attached to the wall. Indeed, the oblique view confirms that there is a 4"/10cm gap. 

To the right of the mile-marker (surely it's not a milestone if it's not made of stone?) there is a little vertical rectangle of verdigri'd metal. Look closely and see "OS, BM, 0931, S" and a 3-line motif:

This is an Ordinance Survey Bench Mark used by surveyors to calculate heights above sea level. More about these here. 

On the other side of the mile-marker there looms a marvellous statue of David Livingstone, explorer, missionary, writer and medic:

This is the work of Thomas Bayliss Huxley-Jones, a prolific and popular artist whose work adorns many public places in London, including the Joy of Life fountain across the road within Hyde Park. 

Mr Livingstone was unveiled on 23rd October 1953. It 'pairs' with the earlier statue of Sir Ernest Shackleton that was installed in 1932 on the East side of the building in Exhibition Road: 

Shackleton, complete with thick fluffy boots and mittens, is the work of Charles Sarjeant Jagger whose most famous work is probably the Royal Artillery Memorial (1935) at Hyde Park Corner (which we know is one mile away!).

Finally, the lovely carved street signs – I wonder if these also came from Jagger's studio:

I'm told that London cabbies call this location 'Hot & Cold' due to the climates that these two intrepid gentlemen explored..!

Soho Theatre opens with Weer in Walthamstow

Last night I was lucky to be invited to attend the first performance at this newly refurbished Art Deco era venue in Hoe Street (thanks Gaby!). The launch had been the previous evening, 1st May 2025, featuring a cross section of artists including Alex Horne and the Horne Section, but we were there to watch Natalie Palamides perform 'Weer' a truly inventive piece of theatre on many levels (see more below).

Natalie is not the only star here – the restored theatre is a delight and certainy has that 'wow' factor as you enter the foyer area. Original Art Deco features have been uncovered, enhanced, researched and copied to create an excellent modern theatre.

It had originally opened in the early 1930s as part of Sidney Bernstein's Granada chain and was designed by Cecil Massey who is also responsible for other Granada theatres, specifically the impressive example in Tooting – the panels either side of the auditorium here in Walthamstow echoing the Moorish style he employed for this chain.

The auditorium is stunning. I was surprised to see how large it is. It originally held over 2000 seats but this has been reduced to just under 1000. It's lovely. 

My only gripe is the sound levels everywhere. We found the bar area to be horribly noisy – I could barely hear what my friend was saying and our throats were becoming sore from having to shout above the hubbub, so we moved into the auditorium and encountered the same problem of people talking loudly exacerbated/caused by the overly loud music that was playing. Oh and another thing, I noticed that the area twixt bar and access to the Circle seems to have been forgotten as regards interior design – it's just a bland space – we entered it and went back again to check we'd gone the right way because it looks more like a staff only space that out to be off limits to the punters.

But, let's end on a good thing – Walthamstow residents are eligible for cheaper tickets at this venue. 

Re the performance – I had no idea what I was going to see. Natalie's performance is very cever, inventive and truly amazing. I like to go to things 'blind' because then I get the full value of the thing without preconception. Find out more info about this show and more at this venue here. 

 

More woodblock street surfaces – this time in Southwark

Marching southwards down Waterloo Road on Sunday, running a little behind schedule to get to the start point of my own guided tour(!) I glanced to my left along Alaska Street and spotted a circular cover plate in the road. Hmm. Should I come back to this later, or check on it now? I opted for the latter and I'm glad I did.

Well I wasn't disappointed – in fact, I was elated – I have never seen a man hole cover plate of this design, let alone one so elaborately filled with chunks of wood:

The name of the company here is Post Office Telephones – I have never seen/noticed any circular plates bearing this name anywhere else. The wood is partially missing in one section and this allows us to see the thickness of the remaining pieces. 

Here's the view looking back to Waterloo station:

After leading my Southwark Ghostsigns walk which finishes near Borough Market, I wandered eastwards to Bermondsey to investigate the streets that abut and run beneath London's first railway line (via Greenwich). In Spa Road, not far from where the station used to be, I spotted another man hole cover between the Queen's Head pub and Bermondsey Council's old town hall building. I wiped away the bits of fallen tree seeds with my foot... 

There are only tiny bits of wood still visible within this one. It's a London County Council access point showing us that trams used to travel up and down this street when it was Bermondsey's municipal hub. It's hard to imagine that now. 

In Jamaica Road I hopped on a modern bus and headed back to Waterloo so that I could scour the streets for more woody man hole covers near Alaska Street, but I found no more – it just proves that you rarely find things when you are looking for them.

I had more luck looking for cars, as there are often some lovely old vintage motors along these streets. Three old Citroens were parked in Roupell Street (though not including the 'Anthill Mob' one with running boards shown in that link) and two Morris Minors sat beautifully alone in Whittlesey Street looking like a photo shoot:

I'm glad to report that the Windmill Walk ghostsigns are still hanging on in there, barely changed in decades. I never did manage to decipher the big one which I think contains the word 'BAKER' through the middle, but the slim one is easy to read – a cuffed manicule points the way to St Andrews Church. 

My collection of wood blocks can be found here – let me know if you see any others

Bricking it near the folly on the foreshore at Cubitt Town, Isle of Dogs

After my visit to The London Museum yesterday for the Mudlarking exhibition, I felt the need to be in the quiet open space of a foreshore at the water's edge, simply watching the boats and birds go by. I headed West towards the Blackwall side. 

To get there, I had to navigate the high rise hell of the Canary Wharf zone. I had to remove my baseball cap for fear of it being blown away by the wind whipping through the tall metal structures. I noticed there was not a hat to be seen anywhere except hard ones worn by workmen constructing the next lump. When I reached the Blue Bridge (which is actually grey) I stopped to take in the views West across at the watery expanse of South Dock, and East to The Millennium Dome (for that is/was its name when it was born!)

Just north of this bridge, on the river side at Coldharbour, there is a little enclave of houses evoking a time before the glass towers were built, although The Gun pub, a Grade II listed building, is not quite the working men's boozer that it would have been until the 1970s, but it's still a nice place to stop for a waterside drink. The map shown below is on the wall inside there and I'm showing it alongside a terrace of Victorian buildings that remains just south of the bridge, making a visual contrast between then and now:

The tall buildings replace a group of little streets on the north side of the dock that was previously Fenner Wharf and Pier Head Cottages, interesting because a tall modern neo-Deco building on the river side, at the junction with Stewart Street, is today called Pier Head:

Near here, at Folly Wall is John Outram's superb 1980's Deco Revivalist construction – hard to believe that this delighful concoction is actually the Isle of Dogs Sewage Pumping Station. I love it! An Egyptian temple jumbo jet hangar hybrid! The road name references Thomas Daver's folly, a little faux fort that was built here in the 1760s. 

And so to the foreshore... with easy access via a slipway or steps along the Thames path at Amsterdam Road. 

I really like this beach. I wandered down to the water's edge and spotted a fragment of brick tile that seemed to say BELGIUM. I took a photo. Two metres away I saw a yellow brick stamped with FARNLEY, a Leeds company:  

It reminded me of the many brick makers I spotted on the foreshore at Battersea 11 years ago 

and so I wandered about looking for more...

Oh, almost forgot... this area is called Cubitt Town, named after the man who made it possible, William Cubitt, brother of architects Thomas (Belgravia) and Lewis (KX station).

Mudlarking exhibition at the London Museum, Docklands

Yesterday I went to the press preview of The London Museum's latest exhibition. I had my fingers crossed that it might be as excellent as their show about Fashion in the East End yet I was trepidacious that it could be sending out the wrong message as regards the rules and regs of mudlarking, something that I know about all too well having been the holder of a Port of London foreshore permit for over 17 years when I started making items from clay pipes from fragments that I found on the Thames' beaches (for walking in mud is not my thing!).

Entering the first room of the exhibition, there's some info about who the early mudlarkers were... these were poor people as good as risking their lives in the thick squelchy mud in amongst moored boats, looking for scraps to eat, lumps of coal, or items that had fallen overboard, some of which might very occasionally be worth the time and effort involved.

All well and good so far. But then the focus changes to the 'treasures' that can be found:

The next room, the largest space, is scattered with cabinets arranged around some heaps of stones and trash designed to look like areas of foreshore. 

The display cases are interspersed with artworks made by modern artists, the explanation labels for these being hard to locate. I have since discovered that at least one of these artists does not hold a permit to be able to make and sell artwork from foreshore finds, as I do.   

The collections of finds in this room seem like they were ideas thrown up in one of those Blue Sky meetings, like a box-ticking exercise. I'd expected to see a chronological display of glazed pottery sherds and glass as per these, perhaps some Elizabethan dress pins, rivets, nails, bottles and glass. Instead, they show us phallic items and some of the Doves Press typeface:

There is, however, a cabinet containing some parts of old leather shoes, which reminded me of the haul that I stupidly left behind on Bankside here.

What is seriously lacking is a better explanation, indeed repeat explanations, that mudlarking along the Thames is restricted to those with permits, that you can't just go 'hunting for treasure' without the right accreditation. Instead, against each showcased item, they print the names of the many mudlarkers who found them, highlighting how popular the hobby has already become. 

I chatted to a few people and two individuals told me that they were now inspired to visit the foreshore. This is exactly what I feared the exhibition would promote – made all the more irresponsible because the Port of London Authority has been having a terrible time this past year trying to manage their oversubscription of permits and the many thousands of people already on the waiting list. This exhibition will surely exacerbate the problem further. The museum could have easily put repeat signs around the walls of the exhibition space explaining the restrictions involved in an effort not to make it even worse. Instead, it's 'let's go find some treasure!' 

The next room is all about the mudlarkers of today and how they save and file their collected items in their studios, like mini-museums. I can't help but wonder what on earth are these people do with this stuff – do they have open days, do we get to visit?!  

Within that room, there are items in drawers and cupboards with sticky hinges and flaps that I don't think will last more that a week.

The final room is all about the moon, because the Thames is tidal and, apparently, mudlarks go out treasure hunting at night time, which is something I really don't thing is a safe practice to highlight. The space is mostly filled by yet another one of Luke Jerram's suspended globes. These things are everywhere, like Anthony Gormley statues. I'd hoped that this, being about nature, might include an explanation that another reason for not damaging the foreshore's surfaces is the disruption to wildlife, the tiny flora and fauna that exists in the thin top layer. Nope. 

A few of us agreed that this room and its glowing moon was some kind of afterthought as a space-filler, that they'd run out of ideas – it's a ridiculous end to the exhibition. Concerned that surely I must have missed something important, I went for another lap of all the exhibits to check and was disappointed that I had indeed seen it all. 

It's clear to some of us who visited that The London Museum is here jumping on a 'let's go mudlarking' bandwagon* and focusing on the treasure hunting with what seems like a complete disregard about the ecosystems on our foreshores and the water quality of the Thames – see more at Thames21. There is also scant information about the role of the PLA, the need for permits, and the correct codes of practice, set out within the documentation that accompanies the permits. 

Disappointing on many levels. 

Mudlarking – Secrets of the Thames, until 1st March 2026

...........................

UPDATE, 10am Tuesday 15th April – low tide at Bankside. I counted approx 24 people on the foreshore twixt Blackfriars Bridge and Tate Modern, bending and stooping and putting things into carrier bags. These including families with colourful buckets and spades, the children gleefully digging and holding their finds aloft, in comparison with a couple of individuals who, by their apparel and demeanour, were clearly permit holders wearing thick waterproof boots and carrying trowels in the rubber-gloved hands. 

*as is Southwark Cathedral , The Guildhall and The Waterman's Hall who also host occasional mudlarking events.