Farewell

A number of factors have combined to quieten this blog of late:

1. Very unreliable internet service at home
2. Being quite busy with life ingeneral
3. I'm moving to Amsterdam soon, and have been debating whether to continue with the blog at all.
   

#1 is now resolved, but #2 and #3 still loom large on the horizon. Delving in in more depth:

#2
I started the blog when my houseshare was less than ideal and spent a lot of time in my room hiding/plotting. Nowadays I don't have the same incentive to remain ensconced with my laptop, and writing the blog on a regular basis feels a bit like a chore.

#3
Well, it's pretty flat really, isn't it. I'll probably get bullied for not being horizontal enough in my enthusiasms if I continue with the blog. I won't be able to take any photos of the works in progress, so will be reduced to scouring the new websites for updates. This is something I haven't been doing too much of lately either as www.skyscrapernews.com does a far beter job in all honesty.

So I am retiring the blog for the time being. I don't expect the move to Amsterdam will be permanent (probably about 6 months), so I may return one day to continue the tall building commentary. It all depends on how big a public outcry there is.

I'll leave you with two things:

1. There is one hoarding in the city which is not, surprisingly, around a construction site: it's around an archaeological dig at a buried section of the Old London Wall near Leadenhall Market.
2. One last poor photo of the Broadgate Tower:

A Condor in the City

Looks a bit like the big golden bird in Mysterious Cities of Gold, does it not?

And it is to be found on Cornhill. Or possibly Cheapside. One or the other.

While I'm putting up photos of small things in the city, here also is a shop on Threadneedle Street. There's something very anachronistic about such a quaint little olde English tobacconists using fluorescent pieces of card for its pricing labels. I didn't go and have a closer look, but I dread to think they may have been written in permanent marker rather than copperplate printed.

You will also notice that though the awning proclaims "J. Bedford and Co", the plaque beneath the window says "H. Botterill & Sons, estd 1841". A cunning ruse to tempt in passing footfall who, too close to be able to see the awning, purchase their Havana cigars unaware that the claims to have been established in 1841 are of dubious provenence.

When is a skyscraper finished?

I'm not sure if I actually pointed it out the other day, but the Willis Building is still, as yet, unoccupied and is still evidently a bit of a mess inside. And yet, I have considered it finished for some time, and, looking at Broadgate Tower and considering it incomplete, I have come up with teh following criteria for a building's completion (for the purposes of this blog).

1. All cranes dismantled and taken down
2. All glazing in place
   

And there we have it.

The photo on the right was taken from a street I've never been down before, also home to this fetching electricity substation. It provides a good view of the rear of the building which, to all intents and purposes, looks finished (although this doesn't hold true for street level).

It also looks pretty polished from Bishopsgate Street, with the facade of 201 Bishopsgate snaking along the pavement, and now the glass reaches down to the ground (but not the cladding on the pillars, which remain resolutely gravity defiant).

A week ago on Sunday was a gorgeous day in the city, as you can see from the blue skies. I ended up in Spital Square drinking coffee, eating a slice of pizza, cycling through a mirrored sculpture and reading in the frosty sun.

Finally, to keep the blog, as ever, with it's nose to topical affairs; much of the American democratic candidate debate revolves around healthcare.

1. This week I have seen an ambulance with balloons, streamers and a just married sign hanging off the back (I only hope they dropped it off at the depot before going off on their honeymoon).
2. I cycled pasta sinister black van with "PRIVATE AMBULANCE" written on its side. That labour government and it's PFI's! What number d'you call for this ambulance service? 666? Joking aside, why would a private ambulance look so sinister?

Remember; you heard it here first.

Snowboard - Eat fresh!

This morning I passed a man by Liverpool Street station holding a sign with a big arrow on it saying:

SALE! Ski equipment, outdoor clothing...

What's remarkable about that?

Only that attached to the same post was a sign saying:

SUBWAY - Eat fresh!

What does this mean? Subway have branched out into supplying ski equipment. That they go even further and have started selling fresh ski equipment as food. "Any sauce on that snowboard, sir?"

Or does it mean the guy holding the sign is pulling a fast one, getting paid twice for holding one stick? Moonlighting on both suppliers at once.

Or has a new alliance been formed between Ellis Brigham and Subway, recognising that nine out of ten skiiers fall in the "love it" to "don't mind it" bracket of the attitudes to subway survey?

Better safe than sorry

Not so long ago I mentioned a safety sign at the Leadenhall Building site, which informed you about what you were and weren't allowed to do, and was critical of the fact it warns you about so many things that it all becomes a jumbled message and you're not sure what's dangerous and what's not by the time you get to the end.

I also came across a construction site proudly proclaiming their safety record of 757520 manhours without an accident.

Today I shall continue my review of safety signs.

This one is for a demolition site near Cannon Street Station, where they are demolishing fire station. It's a classic example of the "No smoking: Got that... Always wear a hard hat: Check!... Wear boots: Okey doke... High visibility jackets must be worn at all times: What was the first thing again?" style of safety sign.

One element, which may well be present on all safety signs is the phrase:

Under the Health and Safety at Work etc. Act 1974 all persons entering this site must comply with all regulations under this act.

Which raises 2 questions:

1. What is the "etc."? "...and egg!" ?
   
2. Can an act contain within it instructions that it must be obeyed? Surely not, else we'd have a strange loop of an act on our hands.
   

Quite a boring functional one, this. Only point of interest is the grammatical typo: "Warning sites are hazardous places."

Sorry, did I call that a point of interest? I'm getting slack.

Here is a link to something more interesting.

Here is a much better attempt at a useful sign, inspired by the first world war posters, I think.

It's a very clear design, enabling the casual labourer to systematically go over his body checking for compliance. Might I suggest that they put a full size mirror next to the sign as then it'd simply be a case of checking that the image on the left matches the one on the right.

Well done Skanska (more on them later).

Beneath the skyline: Part 1

When I go around the city looking at skyscrapers other things will inevitably catch my eye. Accordingly, I take a photo, thinking, "that'll make a nice addition to the blog too," but all too often I just don't have time to write about them. Thus, I have amassed a collection of images of varying interest, which I always intended to share, but never got around to doing so.

Well, all that's going to change now, with this occasional series "Beneath the skyline".

Today's subject: A splash of paint.

But no ordinary splash of paint. It looks uncannily like an anime man firing a bazooka through an oversize scary clown mask. Or something like that. In case you can't see it (which I find very hard to believe), here is an annotated version.

Should you wish to see it with your own eyes, it's located here.

By the way, here's a newsflash (as yet unsupported by photographic evidence. BBC style, I invite you all to go out with your mobile phoney-cams and submit YOUR NEWS). At least some of the inside of the Broadgate Tower looks like being painted salmon pink judging by the view from the top of a double decker.

I don't see enough dead people

I mentioned before that I ended up at the Tower of London on Sunday. To get there from the City you pretty much have to go via Tower Hill, where I popped into Trinity gardens, where there are 2 memorials.

The first is for sailors in the merchant navy killed in the second world war. This is because Trinity gardens are overlooked by the Port of London Authority building (which I will write about some other time as it's an impressive edifice). This memorial is fairly big, and purports to list the names of every seaman lost in the Battle of the Atlantic.

The second memorial (pictured below) is a more subdued affair. A small square of Land holds about 6 plaques with the names of a few of the people who were beheaded or hanged at Tower Hill. As the plaque says, many of the 125 executed died a martyr's death, but curiously it only names some of the people.

Now, given that thousands of dead sailors are listed nearby, would it have killed the authorities to give a comprehensive list of the 125 martyrs of Tower Hill? Would it? I don't begrudge the merchant navy their full inventory (my godfather was in the merchant navy during he war, and he died*.), but I think we should end the iniquity here!


*long after retiring admittedly, but I'm sure he'd still back me 100%. He was a very down to earth man, with no airs and graces. The sort of person who never threw a piece of wood away.

Dribble to the sea

I reckon about 3% of blogs (possibly more; there may have been a recent explosion) are concerned with people reviewing the books they've read. Today it's (sort of) time for me to enter the fray. But first some preamble:

I love to see footballs floating down the Thames. Clearly, some little kid upstream would have been at least a little upset at losing it (unless they were Rod Stewart's son or something, which would be pretty cool as he would probably fill the entire estate with footballs just in case you kicked one in the river. That's the kind of thoughtful thing Rod does.) but if these children, distraught though they must be, were to consider for one second that their ball is on its way to the sea (!) it might inspire a sense of wonderment, and repress those football related suicidal urges.

Was that overly damatic? No? Thought not.

Also, they should know that every time somebody notices the ball floating by they think of the child that lost it. Myself, I like to cackle evilly at thir misfortune, but I know for a fact that others emit a simple 'Ohhhh' of empathy.

Through that lost football you are touching the souls of thousands.

Which brings me on to the book, called Paddle-to-the-Sea. My Auntie Eirlys (who called herself Jane as no one English could pronounce her name (which means snowdrop), and who emigrated to Canada in the early 70's) bought it as a present for my brother one Christmas. I was eternally jealous as I loved the book, and I think always will have fond memories of it.

The book starts in the thawing snow of Nippon country in the wilds of Canada, where an Indian boy has carved a little wooden canoe with a little wooden man sitting in it. On the bottom (of the boat, not the man) is carved the statement (or something like it):

'I am Paddle-to-the-Sea. Please help me on my way.'

The jist of the story is that the boat gets swept away with the thawing snow, and gradually journeys through the Great Lakes, and then along the St. Lawrence River and out to sea. On its journey various people find it and repair it, and lots of animals snuffle at it.

It's a great children's story, full of evocative illustrations. Perhaps I should write a British, football related version. With the ball getting hassled by water voles and having cans of Tennents chucked at it by tramps. And then passing through the grandeur of London. Yes Yes Yes! It'll be a children's classic. There'll be a film adaptation; Kevin Spacey will star as the ball. Audrey Tatou will make a cameo appearance as a French human statue who is longingly reminded of her past love with Zinedine Zidane as the ball bobbles past.

It won't have Rod Stewart in it though. Football hoarding bastard.

How wide is a piece of River Thames...

Above is the view I had whilst waiting for Mark to arrive when we all went for a few drinks on the South Bank on Friday night (on Sunday I found lots of photos I took of us in front of St Paul's of which I have no recollection). Care to hazard a guess as to how wide the Thames is here? Here are our predictions:

• Keith - 400 yards
• Mark - 250 yards 'tops'
• Me - 200 yards
• Katy - 300 yards
• Lisa - 250 yards
  

Mogg's New Picture of London and Visitor's Guide to it Sights, 1844 tells us that

Waterloo Bridge. - To the spirited exertions and unceasing perseverance of the late Mr. George Dodd, an active, enterprising, and skilful engineer, the public are indebted for the erection of this distinguished ornament of the metropolis which was commenced by him, but completed by Mr. Rennie.

Get to the point!

Its length, within the abutments, is 1240 feet, and its width, within the balustrades, is 42 feet, seven of which, on each side, are appropriated to foot passengers. ... The views from this edifice are extensive and beautiful, and are much enlivened by the perpetual passage of steam boats and other vessels, that, in the summer season, considerably heighten the panoramic beauties of this delightful promenade.

I wonder if English Heritage campaigned to save the 'perpetual passage of steam boats' in order to preserve the view?

That length turns out to be an overestimate. Another Bridges over the Thames website confirms that the Millenium Bridge is only 330m long. Subtract a fair bit for the overlap with the banks and the river is probably about 280m long. Which makes Lisa and Katy the winners. So much for the male genetic predisposition for spatial awareness.

The same website has this astounding fact.

Hungerford Bridges

In 1840 Brunel built a suspension bridge across the River at this point but it was replaced by the current bridge in 1864. The chains from the first bridge were however, used in Brunel's Clifton Suspension Bridge across the River Avon in Bristol.

2 things here:

1. The Clifton suspension bridge is really famous, rated as being a paradigmatic example of how to 'do' a suspension bridge. But it turns out it's jsut recycled junk (shhh - don't tell the Bristolians)
2. Apparently we lead very wasteful lives nowadays. But at least we don't go around building entirely new bridges every 24 years!
   

Apparently the River Thames lifeboat is the busiest in the country. I can well believe it - every time I go to the Youngers Arms on the Thames I see it speeding past.

Sitting and watching and thinking

As so many people the length and breadth of the country will no doubt be doing due to the clement weather, I have turned my energies away from doing things to observing things. Here are today's observations so far.

1. Tony Robinson is filling the post-John Peel advert voice-over gap
2. It's quite possible that terrapins charge themselves with solar power once a year. I say this because I saw 3 of them sunning themselves by the canal at the same time last year.. and I've just seen them again, holding their heads up on outstretched necks like haughty camels.
3. Pigeons get confused when you follow them on a bike. If the pigeon is on the ground initially it will take off and, thinking you're a normal on-foot speed human, try and land a few flaps of the wing ahead. About to land, it will realise the human has surprisingly caught it up again, and will give a few more flaps to get ahead again. It will do this repeatedly. The overall effect is that it looks like a kite being jerked on a string (no pigeons were harmed during the description of this experiment).
4. A lot of women joggers jog in a freaky way. They flick their lower legs out sideways like Charleston dancers during each step. I saw one jogger do this, and wondered if it was a disability of some sort, but it turns out at least 66 percent (of a sample of 3) do the same.
5. Finding your keys after searching for hours for them the previous night is a great start to a day.
6. Now it's sunny, it's all about the reggae. Such as this summery song by Zap Pow.

Now I'm off to see my friends Broadgate Tower and Willis Building to see how they're getting on.

New buildings blending in

Try not to look at the stop-motion picture too long, as it will make your head hurt. I misjudged how many steps to take between taking photos (I opted for 12) and the result is therefore a rather jerky progression. But hopefully it demonstrates that Broadgate Tower will be a striking landmark from all along Columbia Road where, up till now, the proximity of the City hasn't been obvious.

Columbia Road has a flower market every Sunday, and is one part of the East End which wasn't razed to the ground and rebuilt in concrete from the 40's onwards (save for one tower block which, as tower blocks go, isn't too bad.) I don't think seeing the Tower will affect the street's successful illusion of being away from the London hubbub. There's a primary school on the street - I wonder if they've been keeping some kind of Broadgate Tower diary. It's never too early to learn about the construction industry. Look at Isambard Kingdom Brunell - built his first bridge at the age of 7 (or am I confusing him with Mozart?)

Moving on now, here is my favourite building in the city. It's not too striking, but I call it my favourite building as I think it's an outstanding example of how modern architecture should be.

Taken by itself, it has an interesting angular shape, and the slats on its upper half give it an interesting texture. I've nevber actually been inside, but I imagine the big windows behind the slats let in a lot of light - not ideal for storing the Mona Lisa long term, but perfect for sitting and eating (I think it's a cafe)

The main reason, though, that I liek the building so much is that it's a perfect example of how to be in keeping with surrounding older buildings, but still being modern:


To the left is some investment firm's offices, and way down on the right is spitalfields market, a pretty old building. Without the slatted building the transition could conceivably be ugly, but with it there's a link between the modern glass and angles of the office blocks, and the brick and shopfronts of the market.

I do however worry about the square between the Willis Building and the Gherkin:

The building with the scaffold is going to make way for the Leadenhall Building, which will be about twice as tall as the Willis Building, with the vertical side to the right of the building to be demolished, and the sloping side to the left (photo). Looking at the photo, there will be tress growing in a huge atrium at the base of the tower, but I can't help thinking that it's just too big to go in what is a fairly open space surrounded by relatively small buildings in a number of interesting styles; from the church to the Lloyds Building. If the plan was to surround the whole square with buildings of that size then that would be fine, but the whole thing will look lop-sided.

I will do something about it. I need to double check, but I'm pretty sure that once planning permission has been granted and demolition has begun, then that is the best time to formally lodge objections.

A tale of two potatoes

The night before - top song!

So that's what I'm listening to right now, waiting for my pizza to cook and looking back on the day.

Now it's Do it now by Mos Def. Once again, party shuffle picks a winner.

Feck! Paper cut.

Potato number one is a delightful thing which I see every now and then on the 55 bus route. Somebody paints potatoes, sticks cocktail sticks, cotton bud sticks and pencils in them, and throws them on top of bus shelters. Both Londonist and Dave Gorman (the photo's his as the bus moved off too quickly for me to take one.) are fans too, and I saw them regularly on my way back from lectures at Birkbeck when I did that sort of thing.

I think I might be in love with whoever puts them up there. I'm pretty sure she's Japanese. And I'm also pretty sure she's a she. If not, I shall have to carefully consider my lifestyle choices. Start snorting poppers... anal sex... that sort of thing. Maybe some crystal meth (listen).

Potato number two should really be potato number one. And it's also really a pheasant. Allow me to explain:

Today I went on a skyscraper hunt, and for the first time I had company. Earlier this week Matt asked me if I was around to meet up* for a drink this weekend. I suggested he join me on a skyscraper sojourn, and I was surprised to get a text yesterday to say he was coming down to join me on my quest.

So I met him at Liverpool Street, and Giles, his old school friend, came too. I won't say too much about the expedition tonight, other than that I think I should make a habit of inviting people along. Possibly not every time, but certainly once in a while. Two heads are better than one.

Anyway, eventually we ended up heading up the west end, partially to see if we could catch the Chinese New Year bash, and partially to find a pub. Most pubs were surprisingly closed. Eventually found one called the Hand and Racquet, which I shall definitely revisit. It's ideally suited for chess tournaments, being as it has lots of two person alcoves. Friendly bar staff.

For extra entertainment, watch the car park over the road. Its amazing how many idiots can't manouvre themselves in or out of there without making a right balls up.

Giles told a very funny story which I shall recount:

He saw a family of tourists race to catch a bus... one of the old routemasters. The father and boy climbed on, but the wife and girl lagged behind, which was just as well as it was the wrong route. The wife shouted for them to jump off, just as the bus started to move off. The boy leapt off as it reached about 10 mph, narrowly avoiding falling over. No doubt coyed by this near miss, the father hesitated. As the wife kept on shouting/gesturing at him to disembark he eventually - now that the bus was doing closer to 30 - decided to halt his journey. But instead of jumping, or trying to hit the ground running, he literally stepped off the bus and got whipped head over heels onto the pavement.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!

That's what came out of my mouth - very loudly - at the outdoor tables outside Cafe Nero on the Strand.

Hahahahahaha!

He does tell a good anecdote, does Giles.

Later on that evening I tried nodding at passers by as they passed the pub window, with little to no response.

And the potato/pheasant??? I was going to cook a roast when I got in, but reckoned without the pub and coffee and anecdotes. Hence pizza.

Once, possibly on Room 101, Stephen Fry questioned the use of the phrase "meet up", pointing out that you could substitute "meet" in its place, and that the "up" is superfluous. This, I feel, is one of the few occasions when Stephen Fry has been wrong. Meeting can be random, coincidence. Meeting up has to be planned. That is all.