119a Walton Street, Oxford OX2

This 19th Century building on Walton Street is a nursery school. It contrasts with the huge sweeping curves of the Blavatnick School of Government behind.

St Paul’s Nursery, 119a Walton Street, Oxford OX2 6AH. Sketched 25 April 2025 in sketchbook 15
Map of the sketching location, showing the sight line of the sketch.

The building now houses a co-ed nursery:
“St Paul’s Nursery is a 16-place day nursery that caters for children between the ages of 3 months and 5 years. The Nursery was established as a work place nursery for the staff of Somerville College, but now opens its doors to children whose parents work elsewhere.” [note 1]

The original building of 1848 is described in “The Builder” magazine of that year. [note2]

Here is what it looked like originally:

According to the (fascinating!) article in The Builder, the school was originally only for girls. Inside the building pictured above was a “dwelling house” for the mistress, a room for the vicar “to conduct his parochial business” , and a school room “55 feet long, 20 feet wide, and 18 feet between the apex and the floor”. Because there was no outdoor playground, the architect placed the school-room on the “second floor” and the lower room became the playground. I take it that by “second floor” the author meant what we now call “first floor”. The author of the article, who seems also to be the architect, describes with pride the construction of the roof:

“In the construction not a particle of wood has been used. The roofs are supported on terra-cotta ribs, with transverse sleepers of the same material, and the floors, arched on geometrical principles, are formed by tiles set in cement ; both are of undoubted strength and durability.” [from “The Builder” article, see note 2]

So the structural elements of the roof are terracotta? Really? If anyone has been inside this excellent building, can they tell me if this is still the case? Did the roof and the floors turn out to be durable, as the article says?

“St Paul’s Nursery” is now part of Somerville College. “St Paul’s Church” is the big building like a Greek temple which is on Walton Street on the other side of the Blavatnik building. It was out-of-use as a church by the early 1970s, and became a wine bar called “Freud”. It now looks sadly dilapidated. Some of its history is on this link.

The Blavatnik School of Government started in 2012. It moved into the new building on Walton Street in 2016. The building is by Herzog and De Meuron. The architects’ drawings of it, and some internal and external photos are on this link.

The Blavatnik School of Government mission statement, as written on the door of the building.

I made the sketch from a convenient bench outside the Oxford University Press. The bench was dedicated to
“Paul Cullen 1943-2011
Oxford Pedestrians Association”.

The inscription on the bench was easily read. But there was an inscription on the building I’d been drawing, and I couldn’t read that.

There is a stucco scroll with writing on the gable of the nursery building. Try as I might I could not read it.I assumed my ageing eyes were at fault. So I stopped two young people on the pavement and asked them if they could read it. They took my request seriously, and gave the task their full attention, which was kind of them. However they could not read it either. “Something Something CCC something something” was our joint conclusion. 1848 would be MDCCCXLVIII. Does it say that? If you are walking along Walton Street with a high-powered telescope, or if you have an old photo which shows the building in a less eroded state, then can you tell me what it says?

What does it say? (The iPhone can’t read it either….)

St Pauls Day Nursery and Blavatnik building. Sketchbook 15 page spread.

Note 1: Somerville College Website, Nursery Handbook, on this link:
https://www.some.ox.ac.uk/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/Nursery-Handbook-updated-June-2018.pdf

Note 2: “The Builder” magazine is online. You can find the 1848 volume at this link:

I have transcribed the letter relating to St Paul’s School: (2 pages pdf)

The letter is apparently written by the architect. They say, for example, “we have perhaps rather exceeded the bound of usual practice in ornamental detail” and refers to “our site”. But he or she does not sign their name, simply giving initials: “T.C.”. I have not been able to discover who “T.C.” is.

The Seven Stars, Carey Street, WC2

Here is the famous “Seven Stars” on Carey Street, just to the North of the Royal Courts of Justice in London.

The Seven Stars, Carey Street WC2A 2JB, sketched 21 April 2025, in Sketchbook 15

The pub website is a great read. Here’s a sample:

“This tranquil little pub now faces the back of the Royal Courts of Justice, the esteemed Gothic Revival building opened by Queen Victoria in 1882. Within The Seven Stars’ ancient charm of three narrow rooms that make up its public area, drinking in Queer Street (as Carey Street has often been called because of the bankruptcy courts) is contrarily pleasant. One can linger over gastronomic pub food and real ales behind Irish linen lace curtains that are being twitched by litigants, barristers, reporters, LSE students, church musicians, and West End show brass sections. Then, one might navigate to the lavatories up the comically narrow Elizabethan stairs. There are antique Cabinets of Curiosity in the pub’s front windows, and alongside Spy prints of former judges, there are posters of “Brothers in Law,” “A Pair of Briefs,” and other bygone British legal films.”

The licensee is the marvellously named Roxy Beaujolais.

Again quoting from the pub website:

In February 2006, FancyAPint listed The Seven Stars as one of “London’s Top Ten Pubs.” A 2006 review in On Trade, a pub industry organ, told it like this:

“We are here to be adored, not ignored,” says Roxy imperiously. “We sell fabulous beer with proper, homecooked food; and I expect my customers to appreciate both of those things.” In the current climate of customer satisfaction at all costs, her words may sound nigh on heretical. But this is a woman utterly qualified to call her own shots, and anyway – her combination of buxom presence, top class conversation, beautifully cared for ale, and sumptuous food is such a winning one that few would feel inclined to argue.

Sketching the pub, I enjoyed the landscape of chimneys. The art of the chimney-maker is not enough noticed. They are unsung sculptors. All those legal offices and chambers behind the Seven Stars must have plenty of fireplaces. Hence the chimneys, here present in great numbers and in extraordinary variety.

Chimneys seen from Carey Street.

This sketch took about an hour and a half on location, and I finished the colour at my desk.

Sketch of the The Seven Stars – detail

See this post and this post for sketches of the Royal Courts of Justice.

121 and 123 Tyers Street, Vauxhall, SE11 5HS

This is an interesting terrace, just to the East of Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens.

121 and 123 Tyers Street, SE11 5HS, sketched 17 April 2025 in Sketchbook 15

The terrace house on the left has a terracotta plaque let into the brickwork:

The website “Radical Lambeth” has an article which tells more. The house was restored as a community endeavour, led by a visionary, Ron Tod (sometimes spelled Todd):

“He had some money from a house he had built out of an old airfield shed in Essex, and he thought some of the people he was living with might help with the work. About 200 people – men and women in their twenties and thirties did…”

“Almost all the materials for 121 Tyers Street came from skips, building sites or dumps. The floors are parquet, retrieved in one great haul from a skip….”

Even from the outside, the house is feels beautiful. The windows are all different, and there is intriguing detail, such as the terracotta frieze above the window shown in my picture. This is a house built to a loose design rather than a rigid plan. Much was created by the people there, as they went along, using materials to hand. Sketching it, I was reminded of the work of the 1970s radical architect Christopher Alexander, “A Pattern Language”.

The house in the centre of my picture is 123 Tyers Street. This is much plainer. But it also is intriguing. The lower windows are not directly below the upper windows, but shifted right.

I sketched sitting on the wall opposite.

Sketchbook spread, Sketchbook 15

Walking around Glasgow

On the way to and from Sketch and Sail last week, my journey took me through Glasgow. I spent a few hours walking around that city, sketchbook in hand.

Here is West George Street, looking east, downhill towards St Georges Tron Church.

This was a Sunday. Glasgow was quiet. Until there was the sound of flutes, or perhaps more accurately fifes. And then a procession. I tried to sketch the people as they walked by.

Who were they? What was it about? I had sort of guessed, before I asked the police officer. “The Grand Orange Lodge” he told me. So this was an Orange March, a procession by Protestant fraternal societies. I had heard of them in the news as taking place in Northern Ireland, but I had not heard of them in Glasgow, or anywhere else. They arouse contention in some contexts. This procession seemed low-key and passed through peacefully, gone almost before I had thought through what I was looking at.

I walked on, in the opposite direction, towards the West End of Glasgow.

In Glasgow there are magnificent Victorian buildings, some of them strangely derelict and empty. Here is the roofscape of the former buildings of Glasgow City Council: huge empty buildings around a vast courtyard.

Here is an eight storey building on Hope Street: “The Lion Chambers”, perhaps a former legal practice.

One of the joys of walking in cities is that you pass through invisible membranes, barely detectable boundaries between the derelict areas and the areas that have been reinvigorated, or between the commercial areas and the residential districts. As I walked West I saw a tower on the horizon, with a parapet.

This looked like the type of tower I have sketched in London at St Thomas’ hospital.

But on closer inspection it turned out to be a church. Or rather, it had been a church. Now it is a residential tower called “Trinity”, looking very smart.

I was sketching between rainstorms. By this time I was high up overlooking the city.

A bit further on there is the botanic gardens. The rain stopped and suddenly the place looked like a sunlit utopia, with people of all kinds and all ages out sitting on benches and chatting to each other amongst flowers and cultivated trees. Further on still, I came to a river.

It was time to turn around and head back East. I became comprehensively lost amongst the pedestrian underpasses knotted around the M8 motorway. But an elderly gentleman put me right, turning around and walking with me to the summit of a bridge, from which vantage point he could indicate the correct route with his walking stick.

It’s a city of many cities, is Glasgow. Wealth and dereliction, renovation and decay. There is a sense of waves of renewal, ups and downs. Or perhaps that was just because I was returning from a sea trip, and the pavement was not yet entirely steady under my feet.

London Water and Steam Museum, Brentford, TW8 0EN

Here is the magnificent London Water and Steam Museum.

It’s definitely worth a visit if like me you are fascinated by steam engines. But there’s more. This museum is a whole education in the London drinking water and sewerage system: past and present.

The building I’ve sketched houses the “100 inch pumping engine” and the “90 inch pumping engine”. These are steam pumps over a hundred years old. The inches refer to the diameter of the pump cylinder. Their job was to pump drinking water from the Thames to premises in London. The 90 inch engine started working in 1846 and the 100 inch started in 1871. They both retired in 1943, by which time the 90 inch had been going 97 years. The 100 inch gave a demonstration in 1958, which was the last time it pumped water. The 90 inch was restored to working order by enthusiasts in 1973, and now gives demonstrations in the museum. The 100 inch has yet to be restored.

The tower in my sketch is not a chimney. It is a “standpipe tower”. It holds big vertical pipes and a reservoir to store water and regulate the pressure. The strokes from the steam engines created powerful surges of water. You don’t want those powerful surges going directly into the mains water supply, and as they might damage the pipes and surprise consumers. So the steam engines pumped the water up this tower instead. From there, the water flowed out to consumers smoothly.

Providing running water was a whole big problem in the Victorian era. The machines were gigantic so that they could generate sufficient water pressure to get the water up to the second floor of the new Victorian houses which had bathrooms upstairs. That’s not something we normally think about: but I can see it’s an issue.

Then there was the whole big issue of the purity of the water, and whether it was actually drinkable. There were a number of private water companies at the time, in competition with each other, and vying for business, making claims for their water quality, and returning dividends to their shareholders. This was the late 19th century – 100 or so years ago.

A display panel soberly tells us:

“Despite making huge profits the water companies had not lived up to their promises. The quality of the water was still variable and the amount being pumped sometimes left homes and businesses without water. The companies’ focus on profits rather than service was a major worry and so the government decided to get involved.
In 1904 the government created the Metropolitan Water Board and bought the eight water companies to create a single network covering the whole of London. …

As well as history, I learned about today’s drinking water.

For example: did you know that 10% of London’s drinking water is de-salinated water from the Thames estuary? The “revolutionary new de-salination plant” opened in 2010:

I watched a gripping – and somewhat alarming – video of heroic engineers cautiously making their way down soaking brick-lined pipes in the sewers below London streets. They were down there to inspect and clear blockages. I also saw the “rat” robots that can be sent down the smaller sewers – it’s a tough environment for technology.

As well as all this gripping factual information, there’s much of strange beauty in the machinery. I particularly enjoyed the devices and dials.

Definitely recommended. It’s on the underground. No café: take a picnic to eat at their indoor tables.

It closes at 4pm – I managed to do the sketch from the garden, just before they closed the gates.

I added the colour later.

Sketchbook 15

Information in this post is from placards in the museum or from their website. Inspired by my visit to the museum, I read this excellent book about London’s water supply:

“The Mercenary River” by Nick Higham

1 Wood Close E2

See this interesting building! It’s just a few hundred yards from Brick Lane in East London.

1 Wood Close E2, sketched around midday, 9th March 2025 in sketchbook 15

I’d walked past it a few days previously, when I had been taking a circuitous route through East London on the way back from Hackney Wick. It’s an unusual building for the neighbourhood, most of which is terraces or blocks of post-war flats. This building stood out, on its own, at a street corner. What is it doing there?

Sketch map showing the location of Wood Close: just to the east of Brick Lane.

I went back a few days later for a closer look. On the white band at the front of the building I could decipher some words:
“ERECTED 1826 [something] FIELD AND THOMAS [something] CHURCH WARDENS”

London Picture Archive has a photo of this building from 1946. The words on the front were a little clearer in 1946, so I can read that Thomas’ second name was MARSDEN. The London Picture Archive caption says that “the building began as a watchman’s house in 1754. The watchman was to guard against body snatchers who provided corpses for dissection to local hospitals. ” So that’s what it was doing: it was guarding the graveyard.

The London Picture Archive caption goes on to say that “In 1826 the building was enlarged so that a fire engine could be housed there.” That’s the building we see now, labelled 1826. It doesn’t look big enough for a fire engine.

In the London Picture Archive photo from 1946, the street name affixed to the building says “Wood’s Close” which would indicate it was named after someone called Wood. Today the street name on the building is “Wood Close”

This building is listed Grade II.

This link shows a 1872 map. Here’s an extract. Click the map to go to the National Library of Scotland map which is very detailed. The street is called “Wood Close” on this map. You can see the “Grave Yard (disused)”. The Watch House, circled in red below, is in the corner of the graveyard, which makes sense.

Area around Wood Close: 1872. Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland CC-BY(NLS)

As you see in my sketch, there are now a prodigious number of bollards in front of the house. I counted ten of them, standing like an amused crowd next to the “7′-0” sign . While I was standing there sketching, I saw why. The idea is to restrict the width of St Matthew’s Row so that vehicles have to slow down or stop, and cars can’t sneak round the edges. I watched agog as huge limousines edged between the bollards.

This Watch House, and the nearby Parish Hall are owned by St Matthews Church:

The Church also own the Watch House on Wood Close, which is currently let out to private tenants, and the Parish Hall on Hereford Street, currently let out to State51.

https://www.st-matthews.org.uk/hire-our-spaces/

It’s a house on a corner, with an active life and a history. I was glad to make its acquaintance.

Pelham Mission Hall, Lambeth SE11

This ornate building stands out amongst the plain and functional housing along Lambeth Walk. I walked past it on my way to the Vauxhall Tea House.

Pelham Mission Hall, Lambeth Walk, Lambeth SE11. in Sketchbook 15, 26 Feb 2025
Canopy

Rain threatened, but I started the sketch anyway. I was sheltering underneath a sort of canopy on the opposite side of the road. This canopy had the significant disadvantage that it was perforated with a pattern of decorative holes.

I sketch using a pen which has waterproof ink. The ink is waterproof once it has dried. But if I try sketching when the paper is wet, the ink runs. I continued until the pen protested that it couldn’t make marks under these conditions.

The paper I use is Arches Aquarelle. It is “heavily sized”, which means it throws off the water, at least at first. But after sustained drizzle, it starts to become absorbent.

All these things started to happen. The paper became spongy. The pen spluttered. Rain sneaked through the perforated canopy and dripped down the inside of my coat. Water slid off the leaves into my bag. I tried to wrap the sketchbook up and I crammed it into my backpack. I have a waterproof backpack. It was already wet on the outside. Now it was becoming wet on the inside. I stood in the rain and considered. I breathed using a yoga technique. Yoga breathing techniques are quite effective in the rain. There was a rhythm to the drips.

Then the rhythm slowed. Perhaps I could just do a bit more drawing? Slowly, I extracted and unwrapped my book. I flicked the pen to get the ink to flow again. I made each pen stroke count.

The rain eased enough.

This was as far as I got.

Then I went to the Vauxhall Tea House to warm up.

I finished the drawing of Pelham Mission Hall later at my desk.

Here are the colours I used:


Pelham Mission Hall was completed in 1910.
The text on the big stone slab under the window tells me this.

Foundation stone: This stone was laid by Randall Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury, on July 18th 1910. G.H.S. Walpole D. D. Rector. “To make ready a people for the Lord” Luke 1.17
Waring and Nicholson architects. William Smith and Son Builders.

Buildings often have a foundation stone. Usually they just say who, and when. This one also says why. Its mission, as stated on the stone, was “To make ready a people for the Lord”. This is a line from a verse in St Luke’s gospel in the Christian Bible. The context is this:

And he shall go before him in the spirit and power of Elias, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just; to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.

Luke 1.17. King James version1

This building was created as an urban missionary post. There was a street market along Lambeth Walk at the time, and up to the 1960s. 2 I imagine the missionaries preaching from their outdoor pulpit to the street traders and their customers. It must have been hard for the preacher to make themselves heard.

The Hall is named for Francis G. Pelham 1844-1905, 5th Earl of Chichester, educated Eton and Cambridge, who was rector of Lambeth 1884-1894. 4

The building is now the “Henry Moore Sculpture Studio at Pelham Hall” part of Morley College. The sculptor Henry Moore donated a small sculpture to Morley College in 1977, which was sold at auction and helped to raise money for the lease of Pelham Hall. In return, the College named the sculpture studio after him, as written on the front of the building5.

Pelham Mission Hall, now The Henry Moore Sculpture Studio. The outdoor pulpit is on the left.

A ventilation pipe from the sculpture studio now exhausts through the outdoor pulpit.

While I was in the Vauxhall Tea House, the sun came out. It was calm in there. A few moments of paradise.


  1. I find the King James’ version here a little ambiguous here in the pronouns. Who is the “he”, who is the “him”? A modern translation: ‘John will prepare the people for the Lord to come to them. The Holy Spirit will lead John as he led Elijah. John will do powerful things as Elijah did. He will help fathers to love their children. He will teach people who do not obey God. Then they will know what things are right. And they will do them. Then they will be ready when the Lord comes.’.
    Translation: “The Easy Bible”. Thank you to http://www.biblegateway.com for sorting that out. ↩︎
  2. https://vauxhallhistory.org/lambeth-walk-street-market/ ↩︎
  3. This wonderful photo is from the local history site : http://partletontree.com/LambethWalk.htm ↩︎
  4. The link to Francis G. Pelham is given in the caption to a London Picture Archive photo. See this link: https://www.londonpicturearchive.org.uk/view-item?i=92169&WINID=1742396935298
    ↩︎
  5. The information about the Henry Moore donation is from the Morley College website on this link: https://www.morleygallery.com/sculpture ↩︎

Holland House, Kensington, London W11

On a freezing day in March, I sketched Holland House.

The view from the bench wasn’t quite right, so I moved to the grass. The shadows crept after me across the lawn.

The house was built in 1605-7. It originally had two turrets and was much larger than it is now.

It was damaged by aerial bombardment in 194o.

During the night of 27 September, Holland House was hit by twenty-two incendiary bombs during a ten-hour raid. The house was largely destroyed, with only the east wing, and, miraculously, almost all of the library remaining undamaged.

Historic England archive (<- click this link to see a photo)

My sketch shows the surviving East wing with its turret. In the 1950s the damaged part was demolished, and the remainder converted to a youth hostel and open-air theatre.

On the way back to the tube station I paused at a still pond.

Bedford House, Quaker Street, London E1

This magnificent building is on the corner of Quaker Street and Wheler Street, in east London, near Liverpool Street Station.

Bedford House, Quaker Street. Sketched 12 February 2025 in Sketchbook 15

It is intriguing: grand but dilapidated. Grass grows from the ledges, windows are broken and patched. The front door is blocked with a waste bin. But it has style.

At one time it was bright, new, clean and purposeful. This was the headquarters of a Quaker mission in east London: the Bedford Institute Association. It was built in 1894 replacing a previous building.

The lofty, picturesque, red-brick building, with its gables and tall roof, is constructed and equipped with solidity, and liberality and far-sightedness which distinguish all the admirable buildings erected by the trustees.”

“Sunday at Home” published by the Religious Tract Society, 1895, Volume 42, page 92

This issue of “Sunday at Home” published in 1895, goes on to describe the work which was undertaken in the building, which was less than a year old at the time of writing. Its purpose was to provide hospitality and education for the destitute of the locality.

“The Sunday begins with a well-planned hospitality to the destitute of the district – a free and substantial breakfast to the poor whose poverty is nowhere seen in a more aggravated form than in Spitalfields.

Provision is made for two hundred, who are supplied with tickets of admission by those who well know the district […] The large lower room in which they are received and comfortably seated is built for purpose, and is itself a lesson in cleanly living as well as of hospitality. The needful ventilation of a room crowded by two hundred guests, entirely devoid of any resources for personal cleanliness, is supplied by rapidly revolving steam fans placed over the doorways…

The article contains a picture, drawn from almost exactly the same spot where I was standing:

At that time there were tall chimneys on the front corners of the building, now reduced to stumps, as you see in my picture. Otherwise the building looks unchanged, on the outside at least. Even the cast-iron railings, centre left, are still there. The adjacent buildings on the right, with the ecclesiastical pointed windows, have been replaced by modern buildings, taller and boxier, with rectangular windows.

Although I was able to read in detail about the use of the building in 1895, I have been unable to discover much of its more recent history. In 2011, for a few months, squatters lived there. “The Gentle Author” visited the house during their occupation1 A photographer, Raquel Riesgo, documented her life during the squat. The squatters were evicted on October 28th 2011.

But what happened next? This building was created to serve destitute people in Spitalfields. Does it continue its mission?

If anyone knows what’s happening there now, I’d be really interested. Please comment below or get in touch.


I found “Sunday at Home” thanks to a link in a comment by Deidre Murray on the listing in Historic England.
“Sunday at Home – a family magazine for Sabbath reading v.42” is available on the website of the Hathi Trust on this link:
https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=mdp.39015068375545&seq=108&view=1up
or if that doesn’t work try this link:
https://hdl.handle.net/2027/mdp.39015068375545

The publication is “Public Domain, Google-digitized.

The pages I have referenced start on this link: https://hdl.handle.net/2027/mdp.39015068375545?urlappend=%3Bseq=108%3Bownerid=13510798887051007-112

The name of the author of the article and of the artist who drew the picture are not given.

Click below to read or download the pages relating to the Bedford Institute:


  1. The Gentle Author describes his visit in a blog post: https://spitalfieldslife.com/2011/09/29/at-bedford-house/ Reading the comments on his post, there is a sense of the local mixed opinions surrounding this squat. ↩︎

George and Vulture, Pitfield Street, N1

Pitfield Street is a historic London street going north from Old Street. About half-way along is the George and Vulture pub.

The George and Vulture describes itself as the tallest pub in London. The current building dates from 1870, according to the pub’s website.

The George and Vulture, Pitfield Street. Sketched 29 Jan 2025, in sketchbook 15

The “Pubs History” website lists licenced victuallers from 1827 onwards. Here is a scrap from Robsons Street Directory in 1832.

https://londonwiki.co.uk/streets1832/Haberdashersstreet.shtml

The original address of the pub was 35 Haberdashers Street. Much of the land round here was owned by the Haberdashers Livery company, bequeathed to them by Robert Aske, a merchant (1619-1689). In 1862 the Haberdashers company offered new leases on properties here:

Haberdashers’ Estate, Hoxton.
A free public-house, adjoining the high road, and 66 dwelling-houses.
To be let, by tender, by the worshipful Company of Haberdashers, Governors of Aske’s Charity Estate, Hoxton, on repairing leases, for 21 years, from Midsummer, 1863:—
The free public-house, known as the “George and Vulture,” situate in Haberdashers’ Street, which might be enlarged so as to form a corner house to the main street.
Also 12 houses, Nos. 1 to 12, Haberdashers’ Place, which may be converted into shops, at the option of the lessee.
Also 19 houses, Nos. 1 to 19, on the south side of Aske’s Terrace; and 35 houses, Nos. 1 to 35, on the north and south sides of Haberdashers’ Street, in the parish of St. Leonard, Shoreditch, in the county of Middlesex.
Plans of the property, and specifications of the repairs to be performed, may be seen at the offices of Mr. William Snooke, the surveyor to the governors, No. 6, Duke Street, London Bridge, between the hours of 10 and 4 o’clock.
Tenders, in writing only, are to be sent in to Haberdashers’ Hall, Gresham Street West, on or before Thursday, the 27th day of November 1862.

City of London Livery Companies Commission, ‘Report on the Charities of the Haberdashers’ Company: Appendix’, in City of London Livery Companies Commission. Report; Volume 4(London, 1884), British History Online https://www.british-history.ac.uk/livery-companies-commission/vol4/pp478-486 [accessed 30 January 2025].

One of the properties to be let, as you see, was
“The free public-house, known as the “George and Vulture,” situate in Haberdashers’ Street, which might be enlarged so as to form a corner house to the main street.”

Evidently the lessee enlarged the pub, as the Haberdashers Company suggested, and it does indeed form a corner house to the main street. The address of the pub is now 63 Pitfield Street. Here is the 1877 map which shows the pub as a “corner house”. The road layout on the west of Pitfield Street is largely unchanged. Singleton Street is now called Haberdasher Street.

1972 Ordnance Survey map, from the National Library of Scotland, re-use: CC-BY (NLS)

The area was bombed extensively in the 1939-45 conflict, but the pub survived. Bomb maps show that the area adjoining Aske Street on the other side of Pitfield Street was damaged beyond repair. A plaque on the row of shops just North of the pub describe the re-building.1

“Haberdashers Place was destroyed by enemy action on 11 May 1941 and re-built in 1952 when on first July this stone was laid by the master of the Worshipful Company of Haberdashers S.A. Last-Smith.
Clerk W B(?)revett – Builder W Philips & Son -Architect Terence C Page”
Photo: January 2025

Here is the 1872 map alongside a modern map. You see that the rows of terraced houses on the east of Pitfield Street have gone, and are replaced by low-level residential housing blocks with a different layout.

I sketched the pub on a cold January day. I did the pen and ink on location and then retreated to my desk to do the colour.

Sketchbook 15

I cannot discover why the pub is called the “George and Vulture”. Why “vulture”? There is another pub in London of the same name, in the alleys of the City close to the Jamaica Wine House. That one was established in 1175. There was also a George and Vulture in Tottenham, 490 High Road, N172, from around 1759, now demolished.

The George and Vulture Tottenham in 1950,
image from: https://tottenham-summerhillroad.com/old_pubs_of_tottenham.htm

Can anyone throw any light on the meaning of the name?

  1. The site “urbannarrative” by local architect Steven Smith, comments on this re-building: https://urbannarrative.com/DITCHWATER ↩︎
  2. Website: “Pubology.co.uk”: https://www.pubology.co.uk/pubs/9402.html ↩︎