At the entrance to this dismal alley:

The local borough has affixed a plaque:

The brown plaque reads:

History site • London Borough Of Islington • In Elizabethan times a favourite spot for archery contests | Edward Lear 1812-1888 Born and lived nearby in Bowman’s Lodge

After the briefest research I’ve found that the more common blue plaques that can be observed fairly often around England are always there to reference a famous person – the blue plaque website states “Blue plaques celebrate great figures of the past and the buildings that they inhabited”. I’ve yet to ascertain the policy relating to brown plaques (though the quest has led me to the potentially interesting British History Online website). In this instance, I’m pleased to see Edward Lear mentioned; I am after all a big fan of The Owl and The Pussycat. What pleases me much more is the reference to the archery contests which would otherwise be unimaginable at this bleak and over-trafficked place (the intersection between the Holloway Road and Seven Sisters Road). All of a sudden, the decrepit, soot-stained buildings dissolve to reveal green fields bordered by trees, birdsong and the swish of arrows replace the roar of lorries and a different order supplants the current one, if only for a moment. That, 300 or so years later there was a ‘Bowman’s Lodge’ in this place is all the more pleasing. Looking at Google Maps, it appears that this particular alley is disappointingly called Hercules Place, but then I notice that the next road along, opposite the Odeon cinema is called Bowman’s Place. Lovely!

If only there were more plaques reminding us of the past in this way, but untethered to the famous, floating free of celebrity however well deserved.

Discussion of Abney Park reminded me that I made a piece about the place. I walked around the cemetery and for no clear reason transcribed brief texts from the gravestones onto my hand using a fibre-tip pen. On returning home I scanned my hand, washed the writing away and then rescanned the hand. Using Photoshop and After Effects I created an extremely slow cross-fade (c. 15 mins) between the two images. Abney Hand was the result, a couple of the stills are above, the second is linked to a slightly larger version.

(Above images scavenged from Cindy Incidentally’s website.)

Reading about Brookwood reminded me of my favourite former haunting ground (sorry), Abney Park Cemetery which I explored when I first lived in Stoke Newington, almost 20 years ago. I Googled and lo, discovered this excellentwebsite. Who said websites need to be tasteful? The list of people buried there is fascinating. Well worth a visit though last time I visited two or three years ago I found the number of men on the lookout for action a tad intrusive. I love the big old lion and the overgrown, derelict grandeur of the place. Funnily enough I’ve never visited Highgate cemetery in all the years I’ve lived in London. I believe I prefer the relative anonymity of Abney – though much smaller, for years it seemed boundless.

Gathering of links at Metafilter of pages about Brookwood and the Necropolis railway that served it. Another place to visit one day I think.

I began reading this article intrigued by the mention of a Crossbones graveyard, but later there’s mention of the masonic temple at the top of Lillywhites in Piccadilly Circus. My first job after leaving school was as a porter for Lillywhites and I was shown the temple by a fellow worker which we accessed via a once-grand, rubble-strewn staircase. I recall the walls of the small temple being covered in strange imagery rendered in gold. The article doesn’t mention that below the temple was a beautiful, derelict ballroom with a sprung floor which overlooked the statue of Eros. I still remember going to the window, drawing apart the dusty curtains and looking out over all the bustling activity below. Sadly, the ballroom has since been converted into additional shopspace for the store, its windows are the tall ones directly above the arch in the picture above.

The absence of Michael Ayrton’s minotaur sculpture has been troubling me since my short exchange with Dan on the subject of Postman’s Park. This morning I’ve just found where it went – to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park. And here’s a little of what the park used to look like, though from this view the minotaur’s buttocks would be visible (also to those lunchers seated on the benches around the hummock…):

I discovered Postman’s Park whilst temping nearby. It’s very small, little more than a sliver between other spaces, but it has some grass and is I guess a former graveyard as it abuts a small church. It has unfortunately changed in important details from when I used to sit in it and eat my lunch: The grass hummock in the image used to support a large and rather eery statue of a minotaur bent over as if in pain and fury and the grey-stoned building at the rear of the image was a very large shell – nothing inside it but scaffolding to support the glassless walls Northern Adventure (St Pancras) by Paul Nash communicates its spirit). The grey, lowering skies of the autumnal weather were entirely suited to the surroundings. It felt like my very own Fall Of The House Of Usher. One other important detail: there’s a wall of plaques commemorating various fatal acts of heroism committed in Victorian times – in this panorama they’re just visible under the eaves of the red bricked building. Well worth visiting.