Keyword of the week - london sky line egg

Couldn't find sensible results for london sky line egg? You might be looking for information on The Gherkin (official name of 30 St Mary Axe), which is a slightly egg-shaped building in London. As its name suggests, though, it's actually shaped a lot more like a pickled cucumber (although a pine cone is probably the best approximation mother nature has to offer).

Or you might mean City Hall, aka The Mayor's office.

I feel sorry for whoever typed london sky line egg into Google.

Other people have done it before, with variations such as 'Liverpool Street Egg'. It seems they're looking for information about that egg shaped building on the London skyline.

I've never seen an egg shaped building on the London skyline, so I presume they mean The Gherkin, aka 30 St Mary Axe. So I've performed the public service above of linking to some comprehensive information about it. Here also are my posts tagged with Gherkin.

The miracle of the Olympics

Despite its being the biggest regeneration project/white elephant since the Millenium Dome, I have steered clear from commenting on the Olympics construction site. This is partly because it won't impact on the London Skyline, so is technically beyond the remit of this blog, but it's also partly due to the fact I very rarely head over Stratford way. I probably should make the effort every few months though.

But I'm breaking my silence now, in advance of any site visit, as I have received a communique from the Olympic Delivery Authority regarding changes to the planning application originally approved. All very, very dull. But there are a couple of illuminating maps. I've chosen to focus on just one detail.

You'll all have heard the spiel about the Olympics generating long-term employment and development in one of the UK's most deprived areas (I typoed 'moist deprived areas' then. Which is pretty funny, but not as funny as 'moist depraved areas'. But I didn't type that). But there are doubters who deny the Olympics will have the impact claimed on inner-city poverty. They argue that there's no real sustainability to be found in the jobs the Olympics will create, and that everything is founded on a set of vague hopes. But these maps prove them wrong once and for all

Before:


After:

See!

28 synergies later

Diamond Geezer is/writes a blog about London and other things, and according to his site he lives right near where I did 2 year sago. He has also recently been thinking about bicycle bells on canals, as have I, and has watched new zombie film 28 Weeks Later at West India Quay in Docklands, which is basically right in the middle of where it was filmed. And guess where I've just returned from.

Coincidentally (almost), it's been 29 weeks since I started the blog, but as far as I'm aware I didn't start the blog because I contracted a rage-inculcating virus (although I was a bit annoyed at how difficult it was to find info about skyscrapers under construction).

Back to the film.

It's a great showcase for the London skyline (albeit jumbled up in the editing room - cross Tower Bridge south to get to the Gherkin, anyone? I don't care; I'm all for artistic licence. But it does provoke an involuntary grimace unfortunately. i wonder if Woody Allen played similar tricks with New York's geography, and do New Yorkers flinch when they watch his films?). And the whole of docklands gets over-run by zombies (I don't think I'm giving away any surprises there), before being set ablaze.

I was a tad disappointed it wasn't dark when we exited the cinema. Due to planned engineering works (wich the Transport for London website said nothing about!) I had to walk down some fairly dimly lit alleys to get to All Saints to catch my bus and was perversely looking forward to a doubtless unnerving walk through darkened streets which - moments before - had been heaving with the living dead.

The reason for starting this post with a mention of Diamond Geezer is that he's kindly put me as the official blog of the City of London on his 'London by blog' map, which is nice. I pipped Pepys to the podium, which is better than nice.

It's very nice.

I must remember to visit Samuel's grave to check whether it's rotated at all recently.

Church theft

One area I've been meaning to investigate is whether the London Skyline of yore... the Wren skyline... the one that everybody seeks to preserve, received much opposition when it was constructed.

Slightly different kettle of fish given that the whole city had just been incinerated, and the idea that there were many people concerned about preserving the view when there were fish and spices to sell is a bit of a whimsy to be honest. But I do know there was opposition to St Paul's Cathedral as it was considered to be too catholic looking. I wonder if his other churches were similarly opposed by traditionalists?

In doing some preliminary googling I have the following to report:

Church theft

The Church of St Mary, Aldermanbury now resides in Fulton, Missouri (satellite picture). It was bombed during the blitz and rather than rebuild it all themselves the canny Cockneys thought they'd ship it off to America where 'visitors from around the world may enter Wren's beautiful, light-filled sanctuary.' But why Fulton?

'The structure would be rebuilt on the campus of Westminster College as a permanent reminder of Churchill's visit to the college and his prophetic speech.'

The speech was in fact the one where he became the first Western leader to openly accuse the Soviet Union of being... well... sorta evil, and coined the term 'Iron Curtain'. Bit of an odd way to permanently remind yourselves of Churchill; import (at huge cost) a church which he had nothing to do with. I dunno - Americans.

Another stolen church feature I came across in Perth, Australia a few years ago. The original bells from St Martin-in-the-Fields are there in a striking bell tower (satellite image) which looks a bit like the maelstrom boat from the forgettable 'Pirates of dark water' cartoon from the early nineties. It is appartently one of the largest musical instruments in the world (if you can call that racket music. Honestly - it's just noise! Give me some punk over bell-ringing any day). I've seen (but not heard) the largest musical instrument in the world. It's some disused grain silos in Montreal which I believe work a bit like mammoth organ pipes. They call it the silophone. Maybe they should aim for a similar thing for Battersea power station. I could then nip down there in my lunch hour to tinkle the old turbine halls.

Hawksmoor's seven

Found this fact about Hawksmoor's contribution to church-building in London:

All seven were constructed under the Act of 1711 which proposed to build '50 new churches of stone and other [1]proper materials with towers or steeples'. This scheme was put forward by the Tories, [2]partly to celebrate the [3]fall of the Whigs after 22 years but also because [4] law and order in the suburbs was thought to be suffering for want of churches.

What an excellent act of parliament! It's got the lot: [1] vague, almost mystical terminology, [2] the bizarre practice of splashing out by indulging in a bout of piety, [3] inter-party pettiness, and [4] the almost childlike naivety we know, love and expect in politicians.

Keyword of the week

london skyline explained

Quite innocuous, this week's. But I just like the idea that somebody thinks it needs explaining. I have this image of Hugh Laurie doing his best upper middle class twit gesticulation and saying 'Well, this won't do. I demand an explanation!'

Tell you one thing that does need an explanation though. The strange protrusion in the photo. Aside from looking a bit like a shark, and maybe having some use as a deterrent to passing tuna, I can't think what its purpose is.

Any ideas?

Who will buy my sweet docklands building

The Guardian today has a two page spread on the price of London's skyscrapers. Click on the title of this post to read it in full, but if you just want a summary...

The HSBC Tower in docklands (surprisingly only finished in 2002, only a year or so before the Gherkin - it's easy to forget just how recent the docklands developments are) has jsut been sold for £1.1bn, making it officially the most expensive building in the UK.

HSBC are still staying there though - renting from the new owners - but the windfall profit of £500m they get from the sale (it only cost £580m to build and furbish) was tempting enough to take.

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.