The London Nobody Knows

Give us “The Boy I Love”!

# Oh

# The boy I love is up in the gallery

# The boy I love is looking down at me

# There he is can’t you see

# A waving of his handkerchief

# As merry as a robin

# That sings on a tree

# As merry as a robin

# That sings on a tree #

This theatre,

the Old Bedford in Camden Town

used to be the favourite theatre of Marie Lloyd,

the famous music hall singer.

Now, it’s just a mess.

For the last few years, it served as a shelter

for pigeons, and tramps, and vagrants.

It’s not a very good shelter, either,

because there’s a bloody great hole in the roof

and the rain comes pelting in.

Old plaster decoration that used to be up there,

pretty masks and the nymphs and shepherds

and the fancy scroll work is just a lot of rubble on the floor.

When a theatre has served its purpose

and there are no longer any people with inclination

to come to it, by all means, send for the wreckers,

have it knocked down.

But the sad thing about this place

was that it was dead on its feet for so long,

putrefying.

Particularly sad because once upon a time,

it must have contained such a welter of laughter, and life, and joy.

Because on this stage there appeared most of the great

music hall artists of the time.

And most of the not so great music hall artists.

Among whom you may find the name of Belle Elmore,

whose ghost may very well still be flapping around backstage

because she was the wife and eventual victim

of Dr Crippen.

Who, somewhere in Camden Town not too far from this theatre,

done the poor lady in.

There’s another reason

for feeling very tender about this theatre and that is,

that it was one of the favourite haunts of Walter Sickert.

He used to come here night after night

with a sketching pad on his knee

and sketch away,

while Bessie Bellwood and Marie Lloyd

would set the cockneys singing.

All together now.

# The boy I love

# Is up in the gallery

# The boy I love is looking down at me

# There he is, can’t you see

# Waving up his handkerchief

# As merry as a robin

# That sings on a tree #

Camden Town is named after the Earl of Camden

whose family owned the estate in the 18th and 19th centuries.

The area, although it’s changing,

is still recognisable as the world of Sickert.

Here, seedy terraces are coming up in the world

after years of neglect.

Like Rome, London has its catacombs.

These, beneath the Camden Freight Terminal,

were once used for the movement of dray horses

across the yards.

The yard is more or less as it was

when the railway people used the horses

to carry packages and parcels across London.

There were about 300 horses

and a blacksmith and a saddler had workshops here.

Within easy reach of the stables at the railway sheds.

Trains passed quite close by, just as they still do today.

This is the Roundhouse.

A giant turntable for railway engines

which was built at a time when engine drivers still wore top hats.

Actually, it was partially designed by George Stephenson himself,

the Father of the Railway

and the inventor of the famous engine, the Rocket.

Having once given steam engine its initial shove,

he was obliged to apply his creative genius

to inventing all the other gadgets

that went with railway traffic.

All these bits and pieces meant something, once upon a time.

They are what you might call the crumbling images of a past

but we’d be foolish to mourn them too readily.

That was the romantic age of railways.

The Age of Steam.

And, to my way of thinking, they finally put an end to that

with the ritual tearing down of Euston station

a couple of years back.

But you can still pick up some of the old atmosphere

in some of the London termini.

For instance, Broad Street

has a working model of a Victorian railway engine,

which can be activated by a penny in the slot.

The street markets still have a certain Victorian boisterousness.

They are London’s free entertainers.

One of the best of them is here in Church Street, Edgware Road.

A nice, quiet street you might say,

but you should see it on Saturday morning.

Here, give me a plum packet.

Have a feel. Here you are, have a feel.

Don’t forget to give ’em back. That’s how we got hold of ’em.

Now, I said just now that I wouldn’t do it again

but I apologise if you paid more.

I’ve’ve got to clear stock

and let’s be quite truthful, people.

We haven’t come down here

for the bloody benefit of our health.

What can you lose, ladies?

It’s a fantastic bargain, it really is.

Look, Sheffield-made chutney, one price and one price only.

Yours or I’ll clear ’em out the way.

# I’m going to leave you, baby I’m going to leave you, baby #

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pale of water,

poor old Jill forgot her pill

and come down with a daughter.

All registered on the day. Over there two and three.

Rhubarb, governor!

You’ll give me two pound for it, won’t you?

No? I’ll make you say yes, I will, I’ll make you say yes.

I’m going to charge you 30 shillings,

is that all right?

It’s got four compartments,

four compartments.

One of the compartments has got a zip.

Always nicks the last of the butter.

Now, come and see, to wash it through,

wash it in Momo, Oxo, Bisto, Polo, any ‘O’ you like.

If you’d like it off of me, there they are.

Come and see.

If you can make use of them they can cover up

all your rude bits when you get out of the bath.

But if you’d like them off of me, there they are.

There’s a pair in blue for dirty buggers.

there’s a pair, they’re in ice blue.

Got a pair here in pink.

What colour would you choose for a pair?

Billy Gramme, help me out, put money in their purses

and take the moth balls out.

Hallelujah.

15 bob a time.

You’ll pay 35 bob in the shop, a pound in …

This is Romano House.

On the side of Romano’s Restaurant,

which in its time must have been one of most swinging.

There used to be a tank of goldfish in the window

and the story is that one of the Bohemians

once relieved himself in the tank,

which must have pleased the inhabitants.

Which reminds me of another story,

of the gold fish a former attendant

kept in one of these tanks in the Holborn gents.

A fish that went down in the world

when the water level dropped.

These fish don’t live here, of course,

we just popped them in by way of illustration.

This public convenience dates back to 1897.

It’s one of the few in which the original fittings are preserved.

It’s an outstanding survival of Victorian London,

it’s quite clear that a Victorian loo

is quite a work of art.

Here, one might say,

one finds the only true democracy

because all men are equal

in the eyes of a lavatory attendant.

This lavatory in Star Yard

is also typically Victorian.

As are the fine gas lamps in many parts of London.

# Underneath, the gas light’s glitter

# Stands a little fragile girl

# Heedless of the night winds bitter

# As they round about her whirl #

There’s one in Carting Lane, which is quite unique.

This is Carting Lane, it’s in The Savoy,

a name which is synonymous with Gilbert and Sullivan operas

and the D’Oyly Carte Company which performed them.

Here’s the lamp.

What makes this so special is that it says,

“Sewer Ventilating Lamp.”

The heat of the lamp at the top draws up the vapours

through this … hollow stem.

We don’t want to lose this,

it’s not only beautiful but unique.

As unique, almost, as this gentleman,

who is among the last of the old-fashioned lamplighters.

# There are many

# Sad and weary