Darwin Day . 12th of February. Charles Darwin, aged 22, spent 2 months in Devonport waiting for HMS Beagle, a survey vessel, to be ready to sail in 1831. He was travelling as a scientist although at the time he was training to be a vicar.
” It was the most miserable time of my life” he claimed .
Training to be a Vicar may have been the problem as Devonport, awas particularly skilled at entertaining young men with time on their hands, money in their pockets and testosterone drenching everything.
Perhaps he was ” keeping himself nice” for a family member. Somewhat ironically the Darwin’s were not averse to Consanguineous marriage.
He may have regretted finding Devonport dull, having set sail on 10 the December bad weather forced them to anchor at Barn Pool, just a mile or so west of Devonport, for a week with nothing more exciting to do than look at Devils Point.
Yesterday was the end of my week long ‘shift’ running the Instagram account of an Artist Collective in South West England. Drawn to the Valley is a collaborative support network and promotional organisation based in the Tamar Valley, a beautiful and often overlooked part of Devon and Cornwall. The members of the group work in and are inspired by vastly different landscapes and environments. The maritime port of Plymouth forms the distinctive Southern point of the group’s territory. The point where the River Tamar flows into the Hamoaze, Plymouth Sound and then finally flows into the Atlantic . In keeping with the mythic and folkloric emergence of any river the Northern boundary is less definite. Unromantically I would say somewhere in the post code EX 20. Specifically of course the Tamar arises out of the ground at Woolley Moor, Morewenstow.
The area has many significant titles relating to Geography, History and Aesthetics.
UNESCO World Heritage Site
Throughout human history the area has been exploited for minerals. It has a unique archaeologicaly significant mining heritage stretching from the Bronze Age to the present time.
European Special Area of Conservation.
Site of Special Scientific Interest
Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty
The last category is represented by the Tamar Valley AONB. Drawn to the Valley has a particularly close association with this organisation
The Makers and Artists in this group are as diverse as the landscape in which they work.
Social Media is a valuable tool in keeping this diverse group of artists aware of what they are doing as individuals or groups but also and perhaps more significantly it is the group’s everyday shout out to the world.
Social Media has been a ‘thing’ for 27 years. It attracts bad press,deservedly, because like everything it is fallible.
But in benign hands for arts organisations it is invaluable. Persuading individual members of this can be a hard sell in any artistic community. As a group we run workshops and support groups to encourage our 160 + members to launch themselves safely and confidently into the Social Media Pond.
Which rather circuitously but hugely importantly brings me to the title of this blog.
I’ve been associated with the Tamar Valley for a large portion of my adult life and have only just learnt that River Tamar is the correct term for the river and area I’m talking about. Whilst #tamarriver is a completely different place in Tasmania.
This is a lovely historic, Victorian, example of a “bossy” sign. It’s in Great Guildford Street, Southwark, London. I walked past it every day on my way to do Jury Service at Southwark Crown Court, which was a little ironic. No high tech crimes for me to struggle with. Just Ruffians, Pickpockets and Wankers. Exactly the sort of people this sign sets out to deter.
For the last ten years of my working life I was either based in Marylebone or the City of London. On-site, On-call was a requirement of my job. Sometimes depending on the rota I was lucky enough to be on- call with people who would be travelling in from home. That gave me some freedom when there was no actual work to do. Depending on the type of on- call I could be out walking, with the bleep, and as long as I was either 15 or 30 minutes from work everything was hunky dory. In normal hospitals this time would be spent studying, reading, or watching TV but in the centre of two historic locations walking the urban environment was a bigger pull for me. Bankside and Tate Modern was well within the half hour walking time from the City. Bankside became a favourite late night walk. It felt very safe. Historically this was not always the case.
Bankside was as well known as Amsterdam for its red-light district in the 16th and 17th centuries. The area had been historically linked to the sex trade since the development of the Roman city. Slaves of both genders provided a full menu of erotic services to military men and sailors. The area was effectively legalised in the 12th century. The Bishop of Winchester was granted the responsibility for the area.
The Bishops of Winchester made themselves the surprising benefactors of immoral earnings. They granted licences to operate for the brothels and taxed the money earned. They lived well on this income.
Prostitutes here were known as Winchester Geese. Clients travelled to Bankside by boat or horse, a dangerous journey, not only urologically but also because the area was a general dumping area for criminals and chancers who were not welcome in the city. They would happily rob or murder a man whose mind was not fully on his own safety.
Despite the luxurious life that the Bishops court maintained, thanks to the business, the prostitutes were not welcome in consecrated ground when they inevitably died. Winchester Geese were buried, or dumped on unconsecrated ground not so far from their workplace.
During early works in the 1990’s for Crossrail or the Elizabeth Line as it has become known, a graveyard was discovered just off Redcross Way. Crossbones as it is known holds 15,000 skeletons , predominantly women , one third are foetuses or infants and some older children. http://crossbones.org.uk/
The industrial wasteland at Redcross Way has become the focus of remembrance for the outcast dead. Vigils, performances and other acts of observance are regularly created here. The gates of the site are a shrine that has become a place of pilgrimage.It is likely that a permanent Garden of Remembrance will be created here. The property is owned by Transport for London . The first recorded mention was in 1598 and the last body interred in 1853.
Brixton East is a former furniture warehouse in Brixton. It was my favourite venue for art exhibitions. Sadly it is closed now but I’ve got some lovely photographs from previous exhibitions.
Brixton East was a beautifully designed multi use space. The owner had a flat cleverly located to the rear at first floor level.
It was a very trendy place , used for weddings, photoshoots and product launches, after parties for musicians playing at the nearby Brixton Academy.
It was a great location and venue, I loved it for the textures of the building.
In part the beauty of the building brought people in to exhibitions. Stewarding at this venue was always stimulating , the most intriguing people popped in to see the art and have a natter.
While fact checking for this blog I’ve discovered that it has reopened under a new name.
The River Effra plays a big part in my London life. Rising out of the ground near my home in Crystal Palace it has been constrained by engineers and now runs underground nearly all the way to Vauxhall Bridge where it emerges from a culvert to join the Thames.
Effra emerges and looks like a small lake in Belair Park, Dulwich, where Hugo and Lola love to walk. Then she sinks back underground.
I always think of Effra as a woman because Effra is a character name in Ben Arronovitchs series of books The Rivers of London.
Effra, the character, is the daughter of Mama Thames she has a BA in History of Art and is said to be very involved in UK Grime.
Just a little digression there.
Effra gives her name to.all kinds of things .
Effra Parade in Brixton
Effra Parade bus stop on the number 3 bus route.
More digression.
One of the most interesting bus routes in London. During a conversation this weekend someone said I loved riding buses because I’m a socialist. I’m not sure that’s entirely true. I love riding buses because the front seat at the top of a London bus is a joyous calabash of cultures, particularly suited to a nosey person. The front seat on a number 3 is sublime.
Effra Social.A bar and casual dining location with iconic status in Brixton. Previously the Conservative Club.
Effra Farm in the 1790’s roughly where Effra Road is.
The point, however of this blog is the lake in Belair Park where Effra takes in some daylight between underground journeys.
Belair Park has less memorial benches than many London parks but there is one in a very picturesque spot.As usual with memorial benches I’ve used what3words to locate it.Whoever Guy Robinson was his friends and family have chosen a lovely spot to position his bench.It is very close to a picture I took to manipulate into some lacy pictures.The last image is my favourite, it sums up the mystery of an underground river.
This little tin has been in every home I’ve lived. I know it and its content very well and yet I know nothing about the original owner.
This was all my mum had kept of her first fiance.
He was killed in a motor bike accident in the early 1950’s.
She would never talk about him but the nature of his death caused both my parents to be certain that they didn’t want either their only child or their grandchildren to ride motorbikes.
His name was David and he may have lived in or around Braintree in Essex England, but equally he could have been stationed at any East Anglian Air field and be from anywhere.
His surname may have been De’Ath but that could also be wrong.
These are the artifacts from the tin.
Its a sad little collection, on the whole as a family we’ve avoided motorbikes.
It’s been a stormy few days. Lichen laden branches have been blown down onto the newly emerged Snowdrops.
I had some help with the photography. Hugo and Lola love branches and were anxious to move them from the flowers as keenly as I wanted to keep them together.
As usual with memorial benches I’ve used what3words to locate it.
Whoever Guy Robinson was his friends and family have chosen a lovely spot to position his bench.It is very close to a picture I took to manipulate into some lacy pictures.
The last image is my favourite, it sums up the mystery of an underground river.
theoldmortuary.design 