This feature first appeared in July 2024 on Londonist: Time Machine, our much-praised history newsletter. To be the first to read new history features like this, sign up for free here.
Imagine opening your curtains in the morning, and the first thing you see is a section of Old London Bridge. That’s the reality for a number of residents on a little-known Richmond housing estate. Here are five unlikely structures hidden on housing estates, and a sixth estate whose secret we unlocked with a packet of Marks and Spencer’s cheese crackers...
Housing estates make up a hefty chunk of London’s built environment. Yet we rarely stray into these spaces, unless we happen to be a resident (or visiting one). That’s a pity, because many have rich histories or unusual architecture, as the wonderful Municipal Dreams substack regularly relates. Some hide true historical gems. We've left out the Barbican, as that's an article in its own right, but here are five less well-known estates with sequestered gems:
1. A bit of Old London Bridge in Richmond
Does this structure look familiar? You might have seen its twin siblings in Victoria Park. Or the one sequestering a statue of Keats in the grounds of Guy’s Hospital. Those three are well-known, but there is a fourth, hiding on a housing estate in East Sheen, Richmond.
All four structures are remnants of Old London Bridge. As you’ll recall, the medieval span was a ramshackle affair, strewn with houses, shops, and a chapel. It looks charming in old paintings, but driving a wagon past all that clutter was a gross botheration. In the 1760s, the buildings were finally torn down to widen the carriageway. To retain some shelter, 14 stone alcoves were built along the bridge. They didn’t last long. The bridge was demolished and rebuilt in the 1820s. Happily, some of the alcoves were saved and moved elsewhere.
The one pictured above can be found round the back of the Courtlands Estate in East Sheen. Two alcoves once stood here, transported over in the 1830s to decorate the grounds of a mansion called Stawell House. Sadly, one of the alcoves was lost when the house was demolished in the 1930s, but the other still lives on for those who would seek it out.
That still leaves nine of the original 14 alcoves unaccounted for. If anyone knows what might have happened to them, I would love to know, in the comments below.
2. A bit of a Wren church in Sydenham
See that pointy pinnacle? It once crowned the church of St Antholin in the Square Mile — one of Christopher Wren’s post-Fire churches, located where today you'll find the hulking Bloomberg building, on Queen Victoria Street.
A violent storm in 1829 badly damaged the spire, so that it had to be taken down. Step forward church warden (and filthy rich printing magnate) Robert Harrild. He rescued the pinnacle and had it transported to his grand home called Round Hill in Sydenham. Meanwhile, the rest of the church was demolished in 1874.
Time moved on. Harrild died. Round Hill was demolished. The Round Hill housing estate grew up in its place. But St Antholin’s spire carried on through it all. It remains there today. Christopher Wren’s most southerly spire is entirely surrounded by 1960s housing, and the occasional mature tree from Harrild’s garden.
3. A Henry Moore in Kennington
This is the Brandon Estate in Kennington. Doctor Who fans might recognise it as the home of Rose and Jackie Tyler.
The estate was designed in the 1950s by Edward Hollamby, who was also the guiding hand behind Deptford’s Pepys Estate. It’s had its ups and downs over the years, but one constant through it all is this Henry Moore sculpture to the north of the development.
Called “Magician’s Sawing-in-Half-Trick Gone Tragically Wrong” , sorry, “Two Piece Reclining Figure No.3,” it was bought by the London County Council in the early 1960s, as part of a programme to introduce works of art into housing developments. The decision to spend money on public art often proves controversial. But when you consider how many generations of Brandonites have treasured its presence, I think it’s money well spent.
4. A Greek temple in Clapham
Clapham’s Notre Dame housing estate looks like many others across south London. Long, beige, mid-rise blocks surround a central lawn; high-density with plenty of communal space. But not many housing estates conceal a full-on neoclassical orangery.
Much as we saw with the East Sheen alcove and the Sydenham spire, the orangery is a relic of a posh house. It was built in 1793 as a garden feature for Robert Thornton, a director of the Bank of England. He used it to grow plants in a sheltered environment, but also as a place to entertain guests.
The house was demolished in the 1940s, and the estate sprang up. Somehow, the orangery survived. It’s now sadly fenced off, but was for many years left open as a curious play space for the estate’s children.
5. Shipshape washing lines in Somers Town
Keep your eyes peeled on Aldenham Street in Somers Town and you might spy this bizarre fleet sailing through the yard of St Nicholas house. The stylite ships crown the posts that once handled the estate’s washing lines, in an era before tumble driers.
These unique finials were designed in the 1930s by Gilbert Bayes, who was also commissioned to make decorative ceramics throughout the estate. They’re only replicas, sadly. The originals have long since gone missing, along with other designs elsewhere on the estate. Ships were chosen because St Nicholas, after whom the block is named, is the patron saint of sailors.
Incidentally, the neighbouring Regent's Park Estate now has a rather impressive art trail.
6. The centre of London in Lambeth
This is the centre of London. Not the official centre from which distances are measured. That’s the statue of Charles I in Charing Cross. Rather, this is the geographical centre of London. If you live in Greet House in the Tanswell Estate, then congratulations… your home is in the precise centre-spot of one of the greatest cities on Earth.
I first attempted to work all this out in 2010 during one of my frequent, much-cherished bouts of insomnia. To find the centre of the city, all one has to do is:
(1) Print out a map of Greater London
(2) Paste it onto the back of a packet of Marks & Spencer crackers (other crackers are available)
(3) Carefully cut out the shape with scissors
(4) Find the spot where the the city will balance on one of your wife’s knitting needles (other spouses and sources of knitting needle are available)
This simple method suggested a location close to Lambeth North tube station. The centre of London, I had deduced, was south of the river.
My dubious methods were, in fact, corroborated a few years later. A chap called Tom Hoban used some proper mapping software to more accurately measure the city’s centre of gravity. He found a spot very close to my own crude measurement. That spot was Greet House, a short walk from Waterloo station.
And that’s how a packet of Marks & Spencer cheese crackers helped to redefine our understanding of this great metropolis.
