A Hidden Street Off Piccadilly

Albany's Ropewalk in 1903 - London' s most secret and most fabulous street (Image source)

Algernon:  Your name isn’t Jack at all; it is Ernest.

Jack:          It isn’t Ernest; it’s Jack.

Algernon: You have always told me it was Ernest. I have introduced you to everyone as Ernest. You answer to the name of Ernest. You look as if your name was Ernest. You are the most earnest-looking person I ever saw in my life. It is perfectly absurd your saying that your name isn’t Ernest. It’s on your cards. Here is one of them: (Reading: ) ‘Mr Ernest Worthing, B4, The Albany, W.’

So runs an exchange from Oscar Wilde's classic play, The Importance of Being Earnest. But what is this address, The Albany, of which they speak? Well, it was in Wilde's day, and remains today, just possibly the finest address in London, located right off Piccadilly:

Oh wait, you don't see it marked on the standard street map? That's because it's utterly exclusive. I assure you it exists but you can't always rely on maps: you just need to know it's there. Look again, at this proper old map. It's right there between Sackville Street and Burlington House (or the Royal Academy):

1851 map of London, showing Albany nestled in between Piccadilly, Regent Street and Burlington House

The Albany - or Albany, depending on when you are speaking and how fashionable you are (now, at the beginning of the 21st century, 'Albany', without the definitive article, is de rigeur) - is a series of gentlemen's apartments opening off a private, covered street right in the heart of Mayfair. Albany was created in 1802-03 by the architect Henry Holland, who also built Carlton House, a ridiculously exuberant mansion for the decadent Prince Regent (now sadly demolished). To access the flats (or 'sets', as they are correctly known) of Albany, one passes through what was once Melbourne House, built by the architect Sir William Chambers in 1771-74. Holland also converted this into sets as part of his overall scheme for what is quite possibly the earliest ever example of, let's admit it, bachelor pads - albeit it very, very classy ones.

c.1830 etching of Albany Courtyard by John Shepherd (Image source) 

Last week, my colleagues and I were granted exclusive access to Albany. We got to stroll in a leisurely fashion down the Ropewalk (as the covered street is known), stop in the tranquil gardens and enjoy a drink with one of the residents in his beautifully proportioned, comfortably sized, perfectly maintained set... Is it a little bit obvious to say that I could definitely live there? Oh, and women are allowed to these days, for the record. Although, I have to confess that the traditionalist/misogynist in me does kind of prefer the idea of some of my more stylish male friends living there to me personally doing so... But the other part of me says 'screw tradition - give me a set!'

A fine example of a room in one of the sets (Image source)

As you may well imagine, all sorts of fabulous and famous people have lived at this fabulous and famous address, from poet, Lord Byron, to author, Aldous Huxley, from architect of the British Museum, Robert Smirke, to prime minister, William Gladstone. As a self-confessed Oscar Wilde groupie, however, it is still the fact that Albany appears in Earnest that tickles my fancy most. And so, it was with great pleasure that a very dear friend of mine (the perfect Algy) and myself (a questionable Jack) regaled our gathered workmates with a reading from the play at twilight in the garden of the one and only Albany, concluding with the following confession:

Jack:         When one is placed in the position of guardian one has to adopt a very high moral tone on all subjects. It’s one's duty to do so. And as a high moral tone can hardly be said to conduce very much to either one’s health or one’s happiness if carried to excess, in order to get up to town I have always pretended to have a younger brother of the name of Ernest, who lives in the Albany, and gets into the most dreadful scrapes. 

Our host and the porter were much amused and invited us back for another recital some other time. I do hope that they meant it...

Our stage: one of the gardens at Albany (Image source)

Random Reasons to Love London #7

Last Sunday evening, I succeeded in hiring my first ever Boris bike. For those unfamiliar with them, Boris bikes are London's bike hire scheme, nicknamed after our buffoon of a mayor. But, it was brilliant fun and now I'm somewhat addicted - I just want to get back on a bicycle and hit London's mean streets again. Preferably, though, I would like to get my own because the Boris bikes do have their shortcomings, particularly the gear system which means you have to cycle especially vigorously for not too much gain...

Boris bikes, all ready to take me on adventures (Image source)

But it's such wonderful fun, whizzing around London's streets on a bicycle. My first experience, which took place last weekend with The Cat, happened as we were walking home from the Barbican after martinis on a mild Sunday evening. I've tried to hire before but not had my card accepted. This time, however, it worked. I was just going to go for a slightly scenic, meandering ride home but The Cat was so enthused that he suggested we ride down to the river. And so we did. Down winding, cobbled lanes and across Blackfriars bridge, with London buildings sparkling in the evening light and the Thames flowing under us. Perfectly romantic!

Then I had another chance for a ride yesterday evening, when I was heading down to south London to play boules in Cleaver Square and then out to dinner.

Cleaver Square, with its boules gravel (Image source)

One of our party was riding his bike so I opted to join him on a Boris bike, rather than catching the tube or bus. Down over the river again, to Kennington, via the perilous Elephant & Castle roundabout, at which point he leaned over to me as we were stopped at traffic lights and said, 'If your mother could see what you were doing right now, she would kill me' (... and now my mother is going to read this, so I will make sure to keep this friend anonymous, just in case!). But there is something that appeals to me about cycling through busy streets much more than the prospect of, say, cycling along country lanes. Although I'm sure that would be lovely too.

Finally, we cycled home at the end of the evening after dinner, whizzing back east along the Embankment from Vauxhall. A far nicer way to end an evening than getting on the tube, even if I probably got more sweaty... At least it's satisfying sweat mixed with invigoration and satisfaction, rather than the uncomfortable sweat caused by the unnatural atmosphere of the underground.

Embankment - not quite like this anymore, but just as pretty to ride along at midnight (Image source)

I'm so sad to think that Sydney doesn't have a bike hire system (as far as I'm aware?) because it would be perfect to be able to carry on with my new found love while I'm on holiday. But when I'm back in London, I will start looking into acquiring my own bike, and will continue to take advantage of the Boris bikes in the interim.

The only problem with cycling around London is the risk of getting distracted by all the beautiful buildings you pass, especially dangerous when you're with a fellow architectural historian, as I was last night! Eyes on the road, people!

Laundry Room Pop-Up

If you're out and about in East London this weekend...

Yesterday afternoon for school, I went on a walk around Spitalfields with my class, and we got to stick our heads into the Georgian house where this pop-up shop is appearing.  I didn't want to leave.  It was a beautiful house, beautifully restored and, for this occasion, filled with beautiful, beautiful objects and art which you could walk out with (after handing over some money, of course).

At the moment we walked in, there was a buzz of people as they finished up preparations for the private opening that evening.  The wine glasses were out, there were pretty girls fluttering about making finishing touches, and older architectural historian gentleman-types dressed in tweed were lighting candles in chandeliers.  My heaven, in other words!  (Apart from the lack of pretty young men in tweed, of course.)  I should have jumped into a cupboard and waited to gatecrash the party but instead, I'll just have to head back on the weekend when the shop is open to the public for those two days.

It's well worth a look if you can make it, especially with Christmas around the corner.  Also on in the area over the weekend are the East London Design Show at Shoreditch Town Hall (Saturday and Sunday), Judy's Affordable Vintage Fair at Old Spitalfields Market (Saturday only) and the Vintage Furniture Flea at York Hall in Bethnal Green (Sunday only).  Whew!

Unexpected gems

I snapped this delightful building whilst out on Stoke Newington Church Street on Saturday night.  The Cat and I had stopped to admire the fireworks bursting all around us when I spotted this lovely Georgian building with its old painted signs.  There's just something wonderfully quirky about the fact that they've shortened it to "fount" pens - I wonder if that was a common way of referring to fountain pens back whenever Walker Bros. were active.

Sadly, I didn't capture any fireworks on camera as we were too busy enjoying them.  We had no idea where they were being set off from but they seemed to be coming from all angles and at all distances - in front of us, behind us, way down at the end of the street - filling the air with smoke, colours and excitement.

I much rather that local, spontaneous experience of fireworks over going to scheduled fireworks displays.  Seeing them at a set time for a set period takes away some of the thrill of it.  I love the element of surprise in random firework displays, and the fact that you keep hearing them go off, near and far, all night long.  I used to think I'd gone off fireworks but I realise it's just the jostling crowds and "organised fun" element of them that I don't like.  Rugged up on an autumn evening, on the way to the pub to meet friends, with a loved one beside you and the air full of whizzing and popping and sparkling rain - that's special!

The Bricks of Bloomsbury

Not just mere bricks and mortar...

I noticed a building with a particularly striking array of bricks this afternoon whilst on my lunch-break. I'm studying part-time at the Architectural Association on Bedford Square, so am surrounded by streets of Georgian terraces every Friday when I go in for class. Although uniform in some respects, the more you look at them, the more you realise there are so many subtle differences to the buildings of Bloomsbury.

One of those differences is the materials of the facades. Obviously, some terraces are stuccoed, some are brick, and there are masonry buildings as well, when you get away from the terraces.

But how can you say just "brick" when you get such a variety of colours - within one building, on neighbouring buildings, on later additions and alterations, and in the details around windows and doors.

So I decided to take some photos and make this subject into a post. I thought to myself, "I can maybe get three or four shots, that will be enough to illustrate my point". But once I started, I couldn't stop! I kept seeing so many different colours and arrangements. It was intoxicating and addictive...