Heritage Saturday

A couple of weeks ago now, to London for one of their heritage open days. Bit of a swizz in the sense that the listings are cluttered up with lots of places which are often open otherwise - but, that said, there was plenty that was not. Far more than one was apt to get round in a couple of days, never mind the half day that we had allotted.

A cold day, windy and wet by turns, made worse by my forgetting to take a scarf, despite having thought about it the night before. Maybe another time I should put it on the dining room table, along with outdoor spectacles, telephone etc, when I first think about it. Assuming that is that we don't want to dine between whenever that is and the off.

Pleased at Raynes Park to be reminded by the steel yard there that we still do metal bashing in London, albeit in a small way. See reference 1 for a ten year old notice of decline in these matters.

From Waterloo, the 172 bus to Unilever House, the large white building with pillars, visible top left from the south side of Blackfriars Bridge and described at reference 2. Another swizz, in two senses. First, the building might be art deco outside, but the inside has been stripped out and replaced by a modern office building, with its many floors arranged around a large light well, aka atrium. There were lots of notices about photography being forbidden, but the security guard I asked managed to suggest that he would not care if I did take pictures if I was reasonably discrete about, without actually saying as much. I decided to hold to my law & rule abiding image and desist, despite the activities of some of the others.

The atrium quite handsome and impressive in the way of such things, rather marred by some very ugly suspended art - with it seeming that the people in charge of corporate headquarters buildings are just as much suckers for ugly art and worse as town councillors. See, for example, reference 3.

There was also a very handsome model of the new building, handy for helping one make sense of what one could see from the bottom of the light well, the only part of the building that was open. A model which, judging by the £40,000 or so spent on a model of Nonsuch Palace a few years ago, must have cost a great deal. See reference 4.

Refreshment required at this point, so we made our way to the café in the basement of the International Headquarters of the Salvation Army, the place on the steps leading up to St. Paul's from the vibrating bridge - as it happens, another bit of ugly, suspended art.

On the way taking in the rather florid London offices of the Scientology Movement, last noticed at reference 5.

Scientology Corporation

We did not stop, although the chaps on the door were very welcoming and quite happy for me to take pictures, unlike those at Unilever House.

Salvation art, with fire extinguisher

Tea and Danish with the Salvation Army. The chap with the food thermometer was still there, poking around in the cold display, so perhaps management rather than public health inspector (see reference 6). Café busier than usual, with the team including a band practising in one of the conference rooms adjoining. We asked at the desk about praying facilities for staff, to learn that the rank and file used one of the ground floor conference rooms, lightly adjusted for the purpose, while the General had a private chapel. While I was impressed by the aura which came over the lady I was asking when she said the word 'General'.

Back up the steps to the Tourist Office by St. Paul's, staffed, needless to say, by two smart young ladies from abroad. A bit of a wait, as some tourists were doing complicated stuff, but I was rewarded with the free book of the heritage days, much easier to use than flogging through the listings on my telephone.

We had intended that the next stop would be the hall of the Chartered Accountants, perhaps up to the standard of the Scientologists. But we got waylaid by the London headquarters of ING, described at reference 7. The lady volunteer on the door was not impressed when I got ING, which was Dutch, muddled up with the ABN, also Dutch, the takeover of which was responsible in some large part for the downfall of RBS. Upstairs, we learned that ING was the lot which bought up the wreckage of Barings when they went bust, including the fine collection of modern (and other) art which had been amassed by the directors.

The bit of the building which was open was the customer suite, up on the seventh floor. A suite of very swish conference rooms, complete with the odd balcony and roof garden and with said fine collection of modern art. Another lady volunteer was completely thrown when I asked how big a customer you would have to be to be allowed to smoke on the roof garden. She did know that smoking was completely forbidden to staff, anywhere on the premises, but she had clearly not thought about big customers before. I associate to an anecdote, some years old now, about a Greek shipping magnate calling for an appropriately large ashtray in the offices of one of his London lawyers. There, the ashtray was forthcoming in short order.

ING art from Barings

A sample of the ING art is snapped above. The general standard was quite high, mainly from the first two thirds of the 20th century, with this sample looking to be from the time when my wood engraving uncle was most active, say some time between 1930 and 1950. I detect similarities in style and treatment, difference in media notwithstanding.

As well as the art we had a selection of interesting exhibits from the Baring Archive of reference 8 - a website which does not seem to include the pictures on these walls.

ING art from Poland

And then, at reference 7, we have the art from ING proper, generally more up to date than the stuff collected by the Baring Brothers.

The general standard of trusty was quite high too, mainly, I think, young people volunteering from the back office, plus a sprinkling of partners - that is, the civil partnership sort rather than the managing partner sort. And given that the back office people were so smart and friendly, what on earth would the front office people have been like?

We got a bit lost on exit, with my excuse being the confusion caused by all the work on Crossrail, but we eventually made it to a proper, brown wood establishment called the 'Lord Aberconway', A Nicolson's house near Liverpool Street station. Staff a bit left over from their Friday nights out, but we managed to get some food and drink, in my case a sausage sandwich. Not bad, but the sausages were full of herby flavours more suited to a veggie than to yours truly. I like my sausages to taste of meat. I also like my sandwiches not to be toasted and, despite a certain flurry around the till, they did manage that.

Brown wood

Note the headless punter, bottom right.

I close with a few snaps from being a bit lost.

Austin Friars

When I was much younger, near fifty years ago, I used to pretend to be a carpenter and at that time working the fancy brown wood, mostly tropical, in the City banks was near the top of that profession. On two Saturdays I was tried out at the discrete bank which occupied the building snapped above in Austin Friars. With my performance only being redeemed by one of my colleagues being an even bigger chancer than I was.

VIPs

I was amused by this bracketing of cyclists with VIPs at this back door. We did not trouble to find out how grand the front door was.

Hostas

The rather healthy looking hostas we came across in a planter somewhere near Liverpool Street. In much better condition than the ones across the road from us, here in Epsom. Or, indeed, in Holne last week. Maybe the City can afford the odd watering can.

Reference 1: https://pumpkinstrokemarrow.blogspot.com/search?q=death+anachronism.

Reference 2: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unilever_House.

Reference 3: http://psmv2.blogspot.com/2012/12/messages.html. We have not visited Ilfracombe since.

Reference 4: https://pumpkinstrokemarrow.blogspot.com/search?q=nonsuch+palace+model.

Reference 5: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2018/08/the-land-of-thetans.html.

Reference 6: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2018/08/jumping-wheeler.html.

Reference 7: https://www.ing.com/Home.htm.

Reference 8: https://www.baringarchive.org.uk/.