Patchwork platforms and utter filth on the London Underground

From delightfully intriguing glazed tiles in my last post to shoddy in less than a mile... 

Holborn station is the next station along the Piccadilly line from Russell Square, but it no longer retains any Edwardian era Leslie Green designs having been upgraded in 1933 when it became an interchange with the Central Line and then, in the 1980s, the platforms were remodelled to reflect the antiquities at the nearby British Museum. 

As I stepped off a westbound train last week I noticed that the larger segment of a black tile has been replaced with a grey one:

Why? Surely black tiles aren't in short supply or difficult to source?! 

Worse... a few metres along there's this horrid patchwork mess:

Eurgh! If these yellow stripes were installed as a H&S non-slip zone, then why does it not continue all the way along the platform?!  

Plus, it's filthy. I occasionally see London TfL promo about how they keep the network clean. Hmm, do they? Really?  

At the risk of coming across a bit Daily Mail Handbags At Dawn, here are the dirty walls along the Central line platforms at Oxford Circus where (and it wouldn't have taken a genius to work this out) small tiles = more grout = more places for muck to cling:

I suppose TfL's logic was that sheets of small squares are easier to apply around curved walls. But they seem to have overlooked how these products will be maintained going forward.

Similar examples can be found across the network, mostly in the central zone, such as at Kings Cross where a contingent of fools decided to wipe away any historic value by replacing the lovely pale yellow tiles with black and ultramarine borders. Here's how one section of the interconnecting tunnels used to look in December 2008 just after some old ads were revealed that had been hidden under multiple layers of paper and paste:

A few months later this was all gone. 

And... don't get me started about the products used along The Elizabeth Line – read about more filth here! 

On the tiles at Russell Square tube station

In yesterday's post I mentioned that I have spotted maker's marks on tiled walls. For instance, above street level, Doulton of Lambeth employed various impressions as per this collection I pulled together almost 12 years ago (I have since found many more) but, until last week I had never seen anything similar on the Underground network.

I use Russell Square station quite often. It is a Lesley Green design, one of many that opened c1906 with ox-blood exteriors and beautifully-tiled and colour-coded connecting tunnels and platforms. I suspect it's because I get distracted by the gorgeous colours and the lovely hand-painted letters that I hadn't noticed this maker's mark:

The image on the left shows the exit tunnel from the westbound platform, but viewed as if coming from the lift. As you can see, there is an impression within a single tile on the left hand side. Here's a close-up:

G. Woolliscroft & Co was a floor tile maker, but there doesn't appear to be any remains of the Melville Road premises where these tiles would have been made. I wonder if Woolliscroft produced the tiles that line all other stations along the Piccadilly Line. If so, it was a huge commission! Seems more likely that quite a few companies in the Staffordshire Potteries area would have been working together on this project, with some companies making the tiles and others adding the colours, doing the glazing and firing. 

Hold the front page!!!! - Dougrose has written this piece about the tile makers although, annoyingly he doesn't identify where any marks tiles can be found, so I will henceforth be keeping my eyes peeled for more evidence – let me know if you see any.

The subterranean passage below Albertopolis

Heading to The Royal College of Music last week, it was a bit wet and windy* above ground so I made use of the pedestrian tunnel that links South Kensington station to approx mid-way up Exhibition Road. 

The tunnel is accessed directly from the station's ticket hall. At the station end there is there's a sharp right turn. On previous occasions I have been busy dodging groups of tourists and noisy schoolkids, but this time I happened to notice a brass marker set within the floor ahead of me:

Hmmm... interesting... I hadn't seen this name before. However, I have spotted a couple of Aberdeen Adamant signs in my travels such as the one below (where was this?!) – there also a similar one in Crouch end near the YMCA). 

I've paired it here with a pic from Borough High Street in Southwark, where embedded brass letters are gradually disappearing.

Back to the tunnel... I tried a quick online search for Roadamant but so far have found nothing. The address, 65 London Wall, is at the time of writing shrouded in scaffolding and plastic. Fingers crossed that the gorgeous substantial Art Nouveau railings that surround this huge building will be retained after renovations are complete. When/if I find out more information about the company I will add it here.

Along the same dog-leg section of the passage, just a few metres ahead, there is another company name embedded into the floor, bearing the name of Wilkes & Co.

Again, as per Roadamant and Nettlefolds from my last post, this is also name I have never noticed before. Devonshire Square is adjacent to Petticoat Lane market and today the site is mostly high rise glass-covered buildings.

Turning left into the main long stretch of the tunnel, the same Wilkes & Co markers are repeated at intervals. Then, at the entrance to The Natural History Museum gardens, another version is included which shows more information:

I've discovered that Wilke's Metal Flooring Co Ld (not Ltd., how nice!) seemed to work in conjunction with, or be one and the same as The Eureka Flooring Company, being as both companies were based in Devonshire Square and are shown a contractors for the grooved and channelled flooring installed at ground level within stable buildings that were at 63 Clerkenwell Road shown here in 2008 but demolished and replaced a few years later. Again, more information about this company needed. 

The quality of the tiles along the tunnel is impressive. I kept my eye out for maker's marks on them but, although I am pretty sure there must be at least one bit of evidence along there, I didn't manage to spot anything that day. Mind you, I only started looking from half way and I suspect any marks might be at the station end. I will check next time I am there.

Something I did notice, however, was the strange indentations within the skirtings. These are approx 40 paces apart, say 32 metres. They are an irregular elliptical shape and look to have been infilled. I mused that they possibly be access points for some kind of chain/pulley system or cables. Or, possibly, these are holes left where brackets were removed, leading me to wonder if, due to the size and shape of this tunnel, it might have been created for vehicles of some kind. A niggle in my brain told me I had read about that somewhere. 

Well, whoop-de-doo – it turns out that Ian has already written about this subway here, although he hasn't made reference to Roadamant or the elliptical recesses.

Any further info is most welcome. 

*Fun with words. This is windy as in the weather, not as per a country lane which, on a blustery day, could be described as a windy windy lane or a windy winding lane. I am reminded of Windy Miller who lived in a windmill – Camberwick Green's opening credits feature a little character winding a handle to show each page of information. This should not be confused with winding a baby.

The names behind the letters on 161-167 Euston Road

I have lost count how many times I have looked at the building at the corner of on Euston Road and Upper Woburn Place, today occupied by Prezzo and Barry's Bootcamp, and wondered what on earth the letter N in the metalwork signifies. It's been on my To Do list for decades, so here goes... 

Here is the view from Eversholt Street with the portico of St Pancras New Church on the left:

Having just searched my archives for some pics of the details, it appears I have never taken a photo of this building, so all the images here are screen shots from Google Streetview. This is probably because I usually question the Ns when I have just gone past on a bus, having missed hundreds of photo opportunities. 

The next image shows the Ns within the fancy the metalwork, painted light grey-green. There is also a scripty B above the door to the restaurant at the corner:

The B is for Barclays Bank – I have seen Barclays Bs on other buildings, such as not far from here at 236-240 Pentonville Road where a second door has a letter T above it denoting Telephones/Telegraph office. They might well have had one of those 'You can telephone from here' signs outside. Barclays and the Post Office often occupied the same spaces. Coincidentally, here in Euston Road there is a huge telephone exchange next door constructed in the early 1930s (one of many exchanges in this area).

The view above, from the church across Upper Woburn Place, shows how impressive this building is. The elegant design continues on all three sides. At the corner of Endsleigh Gardens there is a similar corner door to the Barclays bank entrance but the embellishment contains no letter and has been painted black. A semi-circle of fancy metalwork is still in place:

At street level along Endsleigh Gdns there are elegant columned supports between which would have been, I am sure, display windows, today infilled with smaller windows:

At the western end the access for delivery vehicles is now also mostly blocked.

So, what do the Ns signify? 

Well, it turns out this was a company called Nettlefold & Sons, ironmongers. The company's address is shown as 163 Euston Road, today the entrance to Barry's Bootcamp, although I think Nettlefold's showroom and offices would have been accessed by the rear corner door.

Nettlefolds was founded at 54 High Holborn in 1823. They became famous for the quality of their screws used for boat and bridge building, manufactured in Smethwick. Almost 100 years later, in 1928, they moved to this Euston Road address which, I assume, due to its Beaux Arts style, was already constructed when the Nettlefolds arrived. 

The entrance to No163 later became access to the post office and Euston telegraph exchange next door. The 1939 directory shows that this door was also used by a Scottish life assurance company and Asprey & Co, goldsmiths.

N is for Nettlefolds. 

The strange this is, considering I have a bulging folder of photos of ironmongers' and founders' marks on coal hole plates, railings and bridges, I had never before heard of Nettlefolds until today, nor seen evidence of their work, probably because they made component parts often hidden from view.

More info can be found about Nettlefolds here, courtesy of Graces Guide and here.

Also, see the comments section below for how the company was absorbed into GKN – thanks Anonymous! 

Finding elements of the Nativity in London's streets

Wandering around Mayfair on Monday looking at Christmas decs, I noticed there is a gated cul-de-sac on the western side of Davies Street called Three Kings Yard. How very Christmassy. I mused at why this might have been given this name. 

I haven't done a deep dive into the whys and hows, I just did a quick bit of basic googling which says what I sort of expected, that the name probably comes from a pub or inn that was here in the 18th-century. It's Christmas Eve and I'm too lazy right now to double-check through the old directories and maps, but reference to a pub makes sense, as per the one off Clerkenwell Green that used to be fab and quirky but has since been sanitised, and the other one in West Kensington.

It got me wondering about other Nativity-related street names in London...

Mary Street is not far from Angel, Islington, but Joseph Street is in Bow and Jerusalem Passage is in Clerkenwell. Sheep Lane in E8 is miles away from Shepherds Bush and/or Shepherds Market, and you need to go all the way to Enfield to find Donkey Lane. The Three Kings from Leyton Orient might have travelled from Star Street in Paddington to Jesus Green in E2, but they wouldn't find a Pret a Manger there. There are lots of roads beginning with Gold but, unlike Bolton, we don't have a Myrrh Street here and, as for Frankincense, the nearest we have is Frank St in Canning Town.

I'll stop now!  

Wishing you health, wealth and happiness for he coming year, Jane

Cecil Beaton's Fashionable World at NPG – it's all in the details

I finally found time to see the excellent Cecil Beaton show at The National Portrait Gallery. Ooh it's lovely. 

We often think of him merely for his 1950's voluminous satin concoctions, as shown above, and his award-winning designs for My Fair Lady (1964), but there was much more to the man than that, as shown in these next examples in which he used picture frames, cracked mirrors, clever lighting and strong shadows, even a mattress, to marvellous and moody effect:

Here are a couple of pics of the man himself, in his youth with his fellow Bright Young Things, dressed up as a couple of trend-setting 1920's ladies, and captured in oil paint:

Cecil Beaton is created some extraordinary portraits of film stars and celebrities. The NPG has chosen to feature his image of Elizabeth Taylor, a lady he was not too fond of, for much of their merchandising (not shown here) but, to my mind it's the way he captured Gary Cooper, Katherine Hepburn, Joan Crawford and John Wayne that better shows off his talents:

There are also lots of photos of Audrey Hepburn at the show. One image in particular fascinated me because, due to the excess of makeup she is wearing, it doesn't actually look like her. Her coquettish charm masked in thick make-up:

It occurred to me that her look in this image is very now, very 2020s. She is seen with overdrawn enhanced lips and eyebrows, false eyelashes and lots of foundation. I've paired it with a different kind of retouching – a self portrait of Beaton in his mid-20s where he has altered the surface of the negative/print by adding daubs to denote snow for a Christmas card. 

Quite a few pre-press photos shown here are retouched. For instance, I know people were much slimmer back then, but I very much doubt that the lady against the cracked mirror in the pic above, really had a stomach quite so flat and hips that narrow. I'd had spotted some retouching in one of the first rooms so I went back to take a closer look.

These images of society ladies dressed up for balls and parties at some of London's most fashionable venues are fabulous, made all the more interesting by the retouching on them, designed to enhance the highlights of their jewel encrusted accessories and shiny fabrics, and also to slim their figures. The pic above left shows where the girl has gone from a size 14 to a size 8 by the application of opaque white paint on her midriff, both front and back. The splattering of paint behind her is bizarre. Another lady with stars on her head has what can only be described as stippled hair extensions.

The next two images are sections from a photo of a very Jazz Age lady bedecked in pearls, beads and rhinestones:

The green flashes are reflection from the lights in the room on the protective glass, but the white paint, probably gouache, is evident, added to almost every globule and crease on her long satin gloves to better enhance the lustre on the jewels and the sheen on the cloth. 

I love this. It takes me back to my first years working in the design and advertising industry, before the age of desktop publishing, AppleMacs and Photoshop, when we used Cowgum, Rotring pens, PMT cameras and Letraset to create artworks for print. It was at the tail end of an era when every company had at least one person whose job it was to retouch photos with pen and ink, brushes and paint, as shown on these images.

On returning to the first section of the exhibition, where a collection of gorgeous portraits of society ladies is arranged on a midnight blue wall enhanced by beautifully-made paper flower arrangements that perfectly enhance and echo the images, I couldn't believe how I hadn't spotted the clunky retouching on these prints on first seeing them. 

But then, that's how retouching should be; you ought not notice it, even when it's as obvious as this next lady's unusually sleek features and Lillie Langtree's crisp profile:

The next two pics show that Mrs MacAdoo has lost her left shoulder and a sliver off the side of her face, and Miss Gellibrand has a nasty gash along her jawline:

I love that these are the the original retouched images. Yet it's odd that these adjustments are not mentioned in the panels that accompany any of the images. I'd like to know how much Cecil Beaton was involved. Perhaps these are his own daubs?

On the subject of the man himself making a mark on his own images, I'd first noticed a lovely signature under an image which looks to be created with one of those multi-coloured pencils:

Yet, in the same room, I spotted two different signatures, both in pink:

He signed his name in a variety of styles, with no identifiable mark. This surely must make identification and valuation of his work quite difficult.

If you haven't seen the show yet, do make an effort, because there's much more to see and find out in this multi-layered show than I have shown here – but there's less that a month left to see it – ends 11th January 2026.

Two Tottenham Ghostsigns

Heading to Bruce Castle from the High Rd on Saturday I checked up on a few things at the western end of Bruce Grove – the repurposed toilets, the old cinema, my favourite blue plaque and hints of bygone businesses. 

The latter category includes this hand painted sign high up on the side of No.2. This advertisement would have been clearly visible from the railway line and station in the days before the building that is now a pizzeria was constructed at the corner. 

MOORE & SON

BUILDER & DECORATOR

SCAFFOLDING LENT ON HIRE

P…… 65 TOTTENHAM

I'm not sure what that last line means – it’s surely an address but it’s odd to have the number after the undecipherable road name. When I have more time I will check the old directories to see if I can find out. 

Update 18Dec: In the comments below, Geoff suggests that the last line probably says PHONE (number) TOTTENHAM. I had dismissed this idea being as phone numbers were usually configured with a three letter code before the four numbers. However, when this sign was painted, Tottenham would have been in the suburbs, outside the London phone district and would not have would not followed that format. I've just sourced a pic I took back in February 2010 and it's clear the word at bottom left is indeed PHONE – thanks Geoff!

After a very pleasant 90 minutes or so inside Bruce Castle (fab – there's so much to see and learn in there) I headed west along Lordship Lane and noticed that there must surely must be a large hand-painted sign hidden behind two large billboards on side of No.205:

A glimpse of black on yellow can be seen between the panels. 

Actually, the sign must have been huge because this 2009 google streetview shows remnants of paint across the whole wall.

Can anyone recall what the painted sign advertised?  I’m thinking it was likely to be a well-known product such as Gillette or Brymay. 

I will update this as and when I find out more info, so please add a comment so that you get alerts about new developments.

I'm truly appalled – the Willen House transformation is worse than I'd imagined.

This is the latest update about the 'renovation' of Willen House, a spectacular and rare example of of 1940's architecture that was opened by the then Mayor of Finsbury in 1948. The building was clad in the most gorgeous fired tiles in warm toffee tones, the like of which I have yet to see anywhere else, not just London. You might have noticed that I just used the past tense. Read on...

I have been avoiding Bath Street for a while now. Whenever I'm on a No.43 bus going past the end of the street along City Road I avert my eyes, because I wanted to wait and see what the reveal would be, hoping that my concerns would be misappropriated. 

I had also put on hold my Art Deco Shoreditch guided walk because Willen House had been a highlight along the route – it was always a joy to see people's faces and hear their gasps of amazement when I explained that this was post-WW2, not strictly what we call the Art Deco era.  

I heard that the scaffolding had been removed. A few days ago, after a lovely wander around the Golden Lane estate and finding myself so close to Bath Street, I thought it was about time to go and check it out. As I walked in from the City Road end... my heart sank: 

It just looks like another modern building inspired by the Art Deco era but made with cheaper-looking products. Edging along Bath Street, audibly muttering expletives to myself, I noticed that the fluted columns that used to flank the doorway are also gone. The letterform used for the name is just plain boring (tho it does match the building I suppose):

It is now a pastiche of its former self. They have removed ALL of the tiles and replaced them with pre-formed panels that replicate the design of the old building. Why bother? What has happened to all those fabulous earthenware glazed fired tiles? Have they been repurposed? Were they sold as architectural salvage? I feel another letter to the developer and architects is due.

Here's the view from the southern corner, compared with a montage of images that shows how it used to look a few years ago. The weather on both days was very similar, yet the top pic of the revamp looks stark, whereas the 1940's façade looks warm. 

The window frames did need replacing and the new ones are an improvement, but why is everything black these days? This is a fashion that will soon change. They could have added come colour to our world and painted them a luscious shade of green as per the balconies metalwork Dorset House near Baker Street. Ooh, that would have been nice. 

The old tiles in warming tones of caramel, cream and chocolate formed a continuous curtain around the building, but today's version employs panels with gaps between which, I hope, will be filled. Also, what's happened to the commemorative plaque that used to be on the Lever Street corner? Will it be replaced? Doubtful. Perhaps they've given to Islington Museum? I have too many questions!

My flabber is ghasted. We have people outraged at the proposed development of a not very Deco building in Oxford Street because it happens to be owned by M&S, yet Willen House is abused with nary a squeak.

I just don't see what they have achieved here. Re-purposing the main structure is, of course, a good idea but I'd have preferred a complete redesign of the exterior rather than this pathetic nod to the past. Seeing as they have copied [some of] the original façade can we hope that there will be a small heritage area in the foyer explaining the building's name and the company behind it? If so, perhaps I can help with that, being as I have so much info on file having researched it for my walks and talks! 

This is the second revamp to scupper my Art Deco Shoreditch walking tour, Gilray House having been blandified with grey paint a few years back, however its façade is still recoverable. The archiectural appreciation route already included some adaptions both good and bad, as well as modern buildings that cleverly riff on the Streamline Moderne aesthetic. Now, due to the re-cladding of Willen House, I will be updating the tour to highlight how the Art Deco design styles of the 1930s continued to influence architects through the subsequent decades. On the positive side, this means I can now include some excellent 1950's buildings along the way. Please keep an eye on my Eventbrite page for updates.