Limehouse, London

A question of viewpoint (2)

Several of my readers correctly guessed my location in my previous post. I was indeed at the top of the Limehouse Accumulator Tower in East London. Many of you will know this building, which was constructed in 1869 to supply hydraulic power for equipment the nearby Regent’s Canal Dock (now Limehouse Basin). The role of the tower was to hold a huge weight, which pressed down on a supply of water, keeping it under pressure. The resulting hydraulic power was supplied via a network of pipes to provide power for cranes and lock gates in the basin – and also, apparently, to power lifts in offices and hotels. These hydraulic devices have long gone, but some of the remaining pipes now carry data cables. The octagonal brick tower remains, holding a large tube-shaped container which once, when filled with gravel, provided the weight; the tower also contains stairs, which lead to the view that was the point of my previous post.

Here’s another view from the top of the tower, looking roughly eastwards. To the right-hand side of the picture is the pale white Portland stone steeple of St Anne’s church, Limehouse, one of Nicholas Hawksmoor’s magnificent London churches, which I’ve posted about before.

To the left of the picture is another church, Our Lady Immaculate with St Frederick. This Catholic church is in a dark red brick, forming a strong contrast to pale St Anne’s. It was designed in 1925 by A J Sparrow and perhaps its most surprising detail is the turret bearing a statue (in painted wood) of Christ the Steersman, who looks out towards the River Thames and was no doubt meant to be seen from there, a signal to seamen, who abounded hereabouts. The number of places from which the statue can be now seen is limited by the more recent brightly coloured tower between the two churches. Visible in the distance, on the horizon between this block and the statue of Christ, is the top of another tower, the Balfron Tower, a block of flats of the late-1960s. This is by Ernö Goldfinger and is the elder sibling of the similar Trellick Tower in West London. One can just make out Balfron’s separate service tower, connected to the main building by a series of covered bridges.

All of this rises behind a low backdrop of Georgian and Victorian houses and offices and the variety goes to show how much one can see in London by finding a higher viewpoint – even if all this interesting stuff has now to contend with some (to me) less interesting architecture from the more recent past.

So, as well as heeding the oft-repeated advice to look up – remember occasionally to look down too.

Somewhere in London

A question of viewpoint

I’m don’t normally do new year’s resolutions, but if I did, they might be contrarian ones: get drunk more, read less, look down when you’re in a city. OK. I’m unlikely to act on the first – and in case you’re wondering that’s not because I spend all my time pickled, but because I hardly get drunk at all, and am happy to stay that way. Read less? Well I do sometimes wonder whether if I read fewer books I might retain more from each of them – but there are so many books that on I go, devouring them and enjoying it and hoping something sticks in the mind. 

But looking down… I am always telling people to look up when they’re walking around. Look above the shopfronts, above your head, towards the skyline. You’ll see more – more architecture, more detail, more decoration, more history, more that’s fascinating and surprising – than you will by keeping your eyes fixed on where you’re going. This is undoubtedly good advice and, with practice, one can do it while bumping into people (people who are texting, naturally!) only occasionally. Yet I’m aware that in recommending this viewpoint, I might also be making people miss other things.

I don’t mean (or only partly mean) the joy of coal holes, or the fascination of what’s beyond and beneath the area railings. I mean also, now and then, trying to get up to a higher vantage point to see what this might reveal. Church towers, office blocks, the odd glimpse from the stair window of a department store – all such viewpoints can yield visual treasure. I once spent a fascinating few hours on top of a London Routemaster bus, as part of a group being shown lettering and signs on buildings by the estimable Phil Baines: it set me off on a track I’ve been following ever since. When it’s not signs, my eyes are fixed on cornices, altered windows, all-but-concealed hints of earlier building phases, tile panels, and bits of plasterwork. So get up there, and look down (preferably not when you’re drunk). You never know what you might see.


Happy New Year!
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Photograph: looking down in London on old railway routes, unofficial greening, and controversial slogans. Special kudos and hurrahs to the reader who first correctly identifies where I was standing. Any topophiles or others who know can respond via the comments section.  Clicking on the photograph enlarges it.