Here is The Leather Market Workspace. The Victorian building on the left is the back of the Grade II listed former “London Leather, Hide & Wool Exchange”, 1878, designed by George Elkington and Sons.
The Leather Market, Bermondsey, sketched 7th November 2025 in Sketchbook 16
My idea had been to sketch the front of the Victorian building from Weston Street. But the front was obscured by delivery vans.
We were on the point of abandoning the project, when Toby appeared.
Lynn’s sketch of the same view (c) Lynn Adams, used with permission.
Toby, it turns out, is in charge of a café. He was standing on the pavement next to a huge arch by the Victorian frontage. Come in! he suggested. Lynn and I followed him through the arch. The space opened out into a large yard, with seats. Toby went into his café and we walked around the yard, sizing up the artistic possibilities. Lynn uttered a shriek of delight. She had discovered a point at the edge of the courtyard with an unexpected view of The Shard. And trees. This was her quest. She settled down to sketch while I went to procure coffee from Toby and his team. Then I started sketching too.
“The Leather Market” is one of a collection of co-working spaces managed by Workspace Group plc. We sketched and drank our coffee in the calm yard. Workers passed by and made encouraging comments.
Working on a sketch of The Leather Market. Pen: Lamy Safari fountain pen
We returned our coffee cups to the friendly café, and set off to explore more of Bermondsey. By the time we emerged out through the arch, the delivery vans had gone from the front of the building.
Thank you to Toby and his team from Skinners Café for making us so welcome!
Here’s a map:
Map showing the viewpoint in the sketchThe Leather Market workspaces – page spread, Sketchbook 16
Colours, all Daniel Smith watercolours:
Fired Gold Ochre for the bricks
Burnt Umber and Ultramarine Blue for the grey and blacks
Serpentine Genuine for the greens
Some Transparent Pyrrol Orange and Mars Yellow for the light indoors
all the whites are the paper, fine lines achieved using masking tape and rubber resist.
My pen is a Lamy Safari with EF nib, and De Atramentis Document Black waterproof ink. Paper is Arches Aquarelle 300gsm CP, in a book made by Wyvern Bindery of Hoxton
From the café “Morocco Bound” I sketched the distinctive building across the street. This is 2 Leathermarket Street: In the distance you see The Shard, at London…
From the café “Morocco Bound” I sketched the distinctive building across the street.
This is 2 Leathermarket Street:
2 Leathermarket Street, London SE1 3HN. Sketched 5th September 2025 in Sketchbook 16
In the distance you see The Shard, at London Bridge Station.
This was the leathermaking district up to the beginning of the twentieth century. We have Leathermarket St, Morocco St, and Tanner St. The former “Leather Hide and Wool Exchange” is further up Leathermarket Street, towards Borough, to the west.
The building was listed Grade II in 1972. It is early 19th century, according to the listing.
Here is the area in 1976, in a picture from the London Archives, used with permission:
The windows are all still there as in 1976, with the same window frames, now painted purple. Even the weird little chimneypot on the top of the turret is still there, as it was 50 years ago. In this 1976 picture the placard between the windows says “Ryedene Ltd” but I have been unable to discover if this company was in the leather business. There is no placard now.
“The Department” now occupies this building. Their business, according to their website, is:
combining cutting edge technology with humanising theatrics to create experiences which are technically masterful and purposely human”
To the right of 2 Leathermarket Street is a garage, “R.W. Auto’s” which I have sketched previously:
2 Morocco Street, sketched from “Morocco Bound”, 18th October 2024, 2pm in Sketchbook 15
Thank you to “Morocco Bound” for their hospitality while I sketched these pictures. It’s a calm and welcoming bookshop and café in an interesting location. I’ll be back!
Page spread, Sketchbook 16
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Here is The Perseverance, on the corner of Great Ormond Street and Lamb’s Conduit Street.
The Perseverance, 63 Lamb’s Conduit Street WC1N 3NB, sketched 4th September 2025 in Sketchbook 16
This pub was formerly The Sun, and had a magnificent painting on the corner. There are pictures and history on this detailed post from The London Inheritance. The many comments on the London Inheritance blog post describe happy memories of The Sun and its numerous Real Ale pumps.
The pub is listed Grade II reference 1379274. It was built in the early 18th century and the front was renewed in the 19th century. It was The Sun until the 1990s when the name was changed a few times, becoming the Perseverance around 2005/6.
I sketched it from the “Rymans” stationery shop which is on the opposite corner of the crossroads. People walked past me, deep in conversation, casting shadows in the afternoon sun. But one elderly man stopped, and looked up at me. His back was slightly bent. “Are you alright standing there?” he asked. I said I was, wondering what he meant. “Because,” he continued, “I could go up and get you a stool from my flat. It’s just up there.” He pointed heavenwards, to the windows above the shops. People are so kind. This man was so kind. It’s moments like this which make the sun rise on humanity. I was in fact quite tired, and would have liked to sit down, but my drawing was very nearly finished. I hesitated to send this helpful individual back up his stairs. So I declined his thoughtful offer, as politely as I knew how, and continued my drawing standing upright in the sun.
This drawing took 1 hour and 20 mins on location, plus another hour and a half at my desk later. The colours are:
Mars Yellow (brickwork)
Ultramarine Blue and Burnt Umber (mixed, for the greys and blacks)
Phthalo Blue Turquoise and Ultramarine Blue for the sky and the street, and the street signs
Transparent Pyrrol Orange for the “No Entry” sign and the flowers
Serpentine Genuine Green for the plants
A tiny bit of Permanent Yellow deep for the yellow line on the road, and other small touches
All whites are the paper.
Ink lines are De Atramentis Document black ink in an Extrafine Lamy Safari fountain pen
Paper is Arches Aquarelle 300gsm Cold pressed in a sketchbook made by the Wyvern Bindery in Hoxton.
Here are maps (click to enlarge):
(c) OpenstreetMap Contributors
Here is the sketchbook, size 7″ x 10″.
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My idea that day was to sketch some interesting corner pubs in Bloomsbury.
By the time I had emerged from my flat and was on the street, the bright autumn day had turned stormy. After a few paces, the rain started falling. Everyone dashed for cover. I sheltered in a doorway, together with another woman, two strangers in a refuge, grinning and rolling our eyes. “Well, it is September”. At a pause in the deluge, we both emerged and went our separate ways. I went doggedly towards the West, but no, the rain returned, seemingly even more torrential. I dashed from doorway to doorway, like a fugitive in a spy novel, finding cover where I could. Then I spotted the generous overhang of Smithfield Market and rushed underneath, the rain spattering on the glass above. There was no sign of the deluge ceasing, so I considered, as you do in these strange interim conditions: to go on? to go back? Or to stay where you are?
Why not do the drawing right here? Over the other side of the road is a building occupying an acute angle between roads. It wasn’t in my plan, but by this time I had abandoned my plan. So here is 38 Charterhouse Street, sketched from the shelter of the Smithfield Meat Market canopy.
38 Charterhouse Street, EC1M 6JH sketched 4th September 2025 in Sketchbook 16
I sketched it in pen on location. Part way through the process, a group of workers started to clean the area behind me, using high-pressure water hoses. A fine mist appeared in the air, adding to the general dampness. I finished the drawing later that evening, in my warm dry room.
38 Charterhouse Street, photoDrawing in progress on locationDetail of finished drawingThis was where I was standing to sketch, this area was cleaned with high-pressure water hoses.
Here is a map.
As you see, number 38 stands on a little triangle of land, bounded by Charterhouse Street, Carthusian Street and the tiny alley called Fox and Knot Street.
British History Online offers some history for this triangular plot. In the 1860s the City of London redeveloped the Smithfield Meat Market. At the time it had been mostly an open-air market. The City turned it into the covered market it is today. The surrounding lanes and buildings were also affected, both by the redevelopment and the increased trade.
In 1869–70, with the new market building complete, it was resolved to take the new road along the north side of the market further east into the square itself, carried out in 1873–4. The road was called Charterhouse Street, apparently at the suggestion of the Charterhouse, Whereas in 1860 Charterhouse Lane enjoyed a mix of businesses, in 1876 half of the sixteen surviving houses were occupied by meat and poultry traders. The same trades dominated the new buildings put up, though there were also coffee rooms to rival the two remaining pubs and a large bank at the corner with St John Street. By the time of the Second World War most of the buildings west of the Fox and Anchor at No. 115 were purpose-built cold stores. Only with the decline of Smithfield Market did the grip of the meat trades loosen. Today restaurants and bars have largely supplanted them.
The Fox and Anchor pub and the former cold stores are on the left of my drawing. I’ve drawn the marvellous frontage of the Fox and Anchor here.
British History Online describes the block on the corner, number 38:
The City of London arms on the building today.
The remnant of ground at the angle between the old and new roads was laid out for a small block of buildings and allotted the numbers 38–42 (even) Charterhouse Street, behind which a tiny street, Fox and Knot Street, was cut through in 1871. The name was taken from Fox and Knot Yard, a court obliterated by the new market.
The small triangular block west of Fox and Knot Street […] just within the City boundary, belongs to the land acquired by the Corporation of London in the 1860s for the Smithfield Market development. Set out for building in 1871–2, it remained empty until 1875–6. At the apex a warehouse (No. 38), was then built for Myer and Nathan Salaman, ostrich-feather merchants, to designs by Benjamin Tabberer. […] It is four storeys high, of red brick with regular fenestration; all the ornamentation is concentrated on the narrow corner. For many years there were coffee-rooms here.
So, in 1875 it was an ostrich-feather warehouse, which must have been a great place to visit. The next mention of the building is on the website of Herbert, a present-day supplier of technology to retail businesses. They have a section of their website devoted to their long history. In the early twentieth century they were supplying weighing machines and balances from their offices in West Smithfield and a factory in Edmonton.
Herbert and Son moved out in 1956 and consolidated their operations into their Edmonton site. Since then, the building has been a coffee house, and, more recently, various bars. It is now the “Smithfield Tap”.
This building was the gatehouse to a stately home, “Chesterton”, now demolished. It is made of fragments of that building and others.
Lynch Lodge near Peterborough, Landmark Trust. June 14th 2025 in Sketchbook 16
The building dates from approximately 1807. It was acquired by The Landmark Trust in 1983. The Trust undertook restoration works completed 1983. The architect for this restoration was Philip Jebb and the builders were C Bowman and Sons.
Lynch Lodge is the first picture in my new Sketchbook, Sketchbook 16.
The Lodge is in the midst of countryside which looks as though it is a painting by John Constable.
I had been travelling a long time. Reaching Old Aberdeen I sat on a granite kerbstone and sketched The Old Town House. Behind me was a friendly bookshop, where I had bought a map.
The Old Town House, University of Aberdeen, in Shetland 2025 sketchbook, size A5.
Having sketched, I walked into the picture I had drawn, and towards the trees on the left of the Town House. There I discovered a building being taken over by plants.
There was a plaque on the building, with writing on. You can see it in the background of the photo above. I couldn’t read the plaque at this distance, and neither could my phone.
Some tourists came by, laden with backpacks and cameras. They paused, curious to see what I was drawing. Since their eyes were younger than mine, I asked if they could read the plaque. They couldn’t, and neither could their phones. My next idea was that they could try using the telephoto lens on one of those formidable-looking cameras. With good grace they shrugged off a hefty block of technology, and removed its canvas housing. It had a fine lens.
“Mitchell’s Hospital, endowed by David Mitchell 1801. Reconstructed 1924.”
So now we know.
Mitchell’s Hospital, The Chanonry, Old Aberdeen. Sketch in “Shetland 2025” sketchbook, A5
David Mitchell founded the hospital as an almshouse “from a regard for the inhabitants of the city of Old Aberdeen and its ancient college and a desire in these severe times to provide lodging, maintenance and clothing for a few aged relicks and maiden daughters of decayed gentlemen merchants or trade burgesses of the said city..” [Wikipedia entry quoting the deed of mortification of the Hospital]. It was used as such, housing elderly ladies, up to to around 2016 when the final elderly resident, Iona Mathieson-Ross, had to move out.
A later article says it has been sold, and that the new owners are refurbishing the building as small residential units to be let, possibly as short-term holiday lets. The planning application on Aberdeen Council’s website shows a building looking identical to the existing one, cleaned up and repaired.
From the planning application 241449/LBC Proposed elevations, North and East
It sounds like a dream come true for this neglected building:
“PROPOSED WORKS Roof: Allow for removal of all moss and vegetation Allow for replacement of missing slates in size, thickness and colour to match existing. Check ridge tiling and re-bed any loose tiles. Chimney stacks pointing to be checked and where missing to be repointed…
…Chimney cans to be reset…
Granite Masonry: Pointing to be checked and where missing to be repointed…
Windows: Existing sash & case windows to be checked & where wet rot is evident timber sections to be replaced with same profile in Redwood. Windows to be refurbished to ensure they are fully operational and fitted with draught stripping internally….
External Doors: Existing external doors to be replaced with external quality Redwood 4 panel doors with double glazed obscure glass in upper 2 panels fully weather stripped primed and painted…
The planning application was approved on the 3rd July 2025, a few days after I was standing there doing my sketch. Perhaps when I next visit Aberdeen the improvement work will be in progress. Maybe, if it becomes holiday lets, I can even stay there.
I’m glad it’s being refurbished, but I shall treasure the view of this graceful building gradually being assimilated into the plant world.
Here is a map showing my walk and Mitchell’s Hospital.
I had coffee in Kilau Coffee – recommended!Sketching in Seaton Park, before the rain. St Machar’s Cathedral.
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Walking through Jericho on my way to the station, I glimpsed this church tower, and heard its bells. I wove through the small streets until I found it.
St Barnabus Jericho, OX2 6BG, sketched 26 April 2025 in Sketchbook 15.
This is St Barnabus Jericho. Its website says that it is also known as “Oxford Basilica”. It was built as the daughter church of St Paul’s, which is the Grecian-style building on Walton Street, now no longer a church1.
St Paul’s is not far away, just the other side of The Oxford University Press. It was opened in 1836, and became part of the “Oxford Movement”. The Oxford Movement was campaign within the Church of England, led by influential clergymen and theologians in the 1830s. They challenged the contemporary way of thinking in the Church, saying that services were too plain, and that much of value from the Catholic tradition had been left behind. They sought to re-instate some of the theology, pageantry and ritual from the Catholic tradition, and they put it into their services. They also had a social calling, drawn to help working people and the disadvantaged.2
As you can imagine, this was contentious: popular with some people, and regarded as suspicious and un-English by others. In the 1830s, the movement flourished in this part of Oxford. The services at St Paul’s became so crowded that another church was needed. In addition, Oxford University Press moved into its huge site on Walton Street in 1830, which brought many workers to the area. So an additional church was created, and this was St Barnabus.
“The land for St Barnabas was given by George Ward who was an Oxford ironmonger, and the benefactor for the Church building was the generous Thomas Combe, Printer to the University, along his wife Martha.” [https://www.sbarnabas.org.uk/history]
St Barnabus opened for worship in 1869, and is flourishing to this day. Inside it is awe-inspiring and uplifting, with its highly decorated walls and vast size.
I sketched St Barnabus from outside “The Old Bookbinders” pub, delighted and frustrated in equal measure by the extraordinary detail in that tower. And I was looking at its clock, which informed me of the passing minutes until my train.
I finished the pen-and-ink drawing. Then I walked on, past Worcester College, to the railway station.
Sketchbook spread, St Barnabus Jericho. Sketchbook 15.
Footnotes
St Paul’s: the impressive Grecian temple building on Walton St is no longer a church, but the “St Paul’s” name lives on. I’ve done an earlier sketch which shows St Paul’s Nursery, still very much in operation and part of Somerville College. ↩︎
Oxford Movement: This is my non-specialist summary of a significant and complex theological and social movement. For a proper description see, for example the Wikipedia Article, or this glossary article.↩︎
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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.
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Here is the magnificent London Water and Steam Museum.
London Water and Steam Museum, sketched 15th March 2025, 4pm in sketchbook 15.
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.
A glimpse of part of the 100 inch engine
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.
a glimpse of the 90 inch engine
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. …
Display panel: “The companies’ focus on profits rather than service was a major worry and so the government decided to get involved.…”
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.
Sculptural debris in yardThe steam train in the grounds: returning to the shed at the end of the day.
I added the colour later.
Sketchbook 15Part of the 90 inch pump: analogue film photo, Olympus XA2 using Kentmere Pan 400 b/w film. 15th March 2025
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
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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.
19462025
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 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.
A large car navigates the bollards. St Matthew’s Church is in the background. A van only just fits through.
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.
Jane Sketching 