An Insiders Look at London

As the world’s focus turns to London for the Olympics this summer, locals know how to escape the crowds inside the city’s cozy pubs, flower markets and serene galleries.Forget Tony Robinson – if a hoard of Roman coins crops up in the back garden, it’s Philip Attwood you want to call. He is the fabulously titled Keeper of Coins and Medals at the British Museum, and the man on whose desk most glittering new archaeological finds end up. He’s been working at the British Museum for 32 years, and walking through the jaw-dropping atrium, latticed with metal and glass, it’s not difficult to understand why he says he never wants to leave.“Sometimes you have to take a step back and remember whereyou are. I can be on my way to a meeting and suddenly realize I’m next to anexhibit that I spent a year studying at university – like this, the Standard ofUr,” he enthuses, gesturing to a 4,500-yearold mosaic depicting scenes of warin ancient Sumer (modern Iraq). “The power of this object is extraordinary.Think of who else has looked at it in different times, and I’m just walkingpast it for a meeting!”With more than sevenmillion objects in the collection, it’s hard to know where to start, but Philipis as good a guide as you’ll get. His knowledge of small circular things madeout of metal stretches all the way from the Fishpool Hoard of 1,237 gold coinsdating from the War of the Roses (the largest found in the UK and with a facevalue of £400, equal to £300,000 in today’s money), to an intricate gold coincast for Queen Mary I in 1555, which would set you back around £270,000 if itever came up for sale. Being able to spot a forgery is a crucial part of thejob – although most fakes that do crop up are contemporary to the originals,rather than modern-day cheats. Philip’s latest project has been to select the design forthe London Olympic and Paralympic medals. “The pattern of the Paralympic medalis taken from the drapery worn by the statue of Nike, which stood at Olympia inancient Greece. We own a cast of the statue, although it’s currently in ourstore room, which is, weirdly enough, in the London version of Olympia.”Curators develop apossessive, almost familial, relationship with their collections. “Most of usdon’t think about the monetary value of an object, even when it’s worthmillions,” says Philip. “It’s the emotional response that’s important, theconnection with other individuals over time and space. An object’s meaning canchange, but there’s often continuity, too – a basic idea which sustains. It’s areal privilege to have that experience every day.”More unmissable LondonmuseumsPub secretsGeorge Orwell wrote that the ideal pub should have “uncompromisinglyVictoria”’ fittings, be always “quiet enough to talk” and be staffed bybarmaids who “take a personal interest in everyone”. He may not have added thatthe landlady should have bright pink hair, but there can be no doubt that TheSeven Stars (53-54 Carey St, WC2A) would meet with his approval. A snug, squat trio of wood paneled rooms tucked away behindthe Royal Courts of Justice near The Strand, The Seven Stars lays claim tobeing one of London’s oldest pubs, dating back to 1602. Tables are neatlycovered in checkered cloths and walls in old movie posters, pictures of BertoltBrecht and books on literary hoaxes. And in Roxy Beaujolais, a former TV chefturned landlady supreme, it’s blessed with a whirlwind of energy and laughterat its very core. “The secret to a real London pub,” she says, “is clean lavs,good beer, no music, no fruit machines and no bores. It’s a place where peopletell secrets and lies. It’s egalitarian, anyone can come in. Until I say theycan’t.”Roxy is a veteran of the 1980s Soho scene, having worked atRonnie Scott’s Jazz Club in an era when the likes of Francis Bacon and LucianFreud would stumble from pub to drinking den. The Seven Stars is a much quieterproposition: “A mellow place to sit – an elegant home from home,” as Roxy putsit. Its location in a somewhat overlooked area of central London means that itis a pub you have to seek out – and therein lies its appeal. Walk in the doorand you feel like you’ve found something special. “This is a lovely part of London,” says Roxy. “On one sideyou have the thieves and stewpots of Covent Garden, on the other, the ice-coldCorporation of London and the City. This is the land in-between, up to Lincoln’sInn Fields and Bloomsbury, and it’s a terrific area. It’s hidden, and thatmakes it magical.” Regulars include legal clerks from the court, ministers andmusicians from St Paul’s, and the more discerning students from King’s College.“Get them in the first year and you’ve got them for life. I get former studentsbringing their babies in to show me years later.”Places like The Seven Stars justify the mythologysurrounding London pubs – it’s welcoming, eccentric and, despite Roxy comingfrom Australia, very English. “London would be miserable without its pubs. Weprovide a home for the bewildered and a place where people can meet. You couldmeet the man of your dreams in a pub.”More classic London pubsBlooming marketsWalking through Columbia Road FlowerMarket early on a Sunday morning, you can’t help but appreciate the ritualverbal ding-dong of a great London market. “Three bunches for a fiver – cheapenough to give to someone you don’t like,” says one stallholder, chucking a boxof flowers towards a punter waiting with hands outstretched. “So cheap youcould stick them on your mother-in-law’s grave,” cries another. Halfway down this East London street, crammed with colours,scents and stems, is the stall run by 83-year-old George Gladwell, who has beenworking at the market since 1949. “The secret to the banter,” he explains, “ismaking people smile. If you can make people laugh, you’ll do alright.” No matter what the weather, it’s always spring on Sundays atColumbia Road. There’s been a market here since the days when cattle traderswould march their herds down this road from London Fields to Smithfields. Thearrival of the Jewish community in the 19th century saw the trading day shiftto Sundays, which meant that vendors could pick up the leftover flowers fromthe Saturday market at Covent Garden, stack them high and sell them cheap. Behind the stalls, the independent shops and cafés are anintegral part of the market’s magic. There are little art galleries, jewellersand shops selling antiques. Turn off at Ezra Street and there’s a maze of cobbledstreets bursting with the wares of the area’s creative community – wovenbaskets, handmade trinkets and vintage clothes, alongside freshly shuckedoysters and a three-man folk band busking sea shanties. Far from the touristsqueeze of the markets in Borough and Portobello, this little quarter of Londoncomes into bloom every weekend – and the flowers are just the start of it. More unique LondonmarketsThe hidden heath “You don’t just stumble across this place,” says David Humphries, tree officer ofHampstead Heath and a man whoseexcitement at clambering up the nearest trunk puts even the keenestfive-year-old to shame. “It’s a place for locals only, really. You’ll be luckyto see two dog walkers a day here, unlike the rest of the park.” Here on SandyHeath – a serene wooded glen in the western section – there is a preternaturalserenity. It’s difficult to believe that this peace can be found just a coupleof miles from the frantic tumult of the City, nor in a park that attracts sevenmillion visitors a year. “In spring, when it’s in full leaf,” says David, “youcan’t hear anything except the rustle of leaves.”David has worked atthe heath for 26 years, first joining as a 16-year-old apprentice. Despitebeing London born-and-bred, he says that he was never a city type, and wasalways drawn to the rural lifestyle. The remarkable character of HampsteadHeath has allowed David to fulfil his dream. Unlike London’s more sedate Royal parks, the true mark ofthe wild remains in the heath. Trees are allowed to grow in crooked angles orto fall to the floor, and dead stumps slowly rot (they are a vital habitat forinsects and bats) while leaves are left to pile up and decompose. “Some otherparks are more sanitised, like a Victorian pleasure park,” says David. “Everyleaf is cleaned away so people don’t get their shoes dirty. On the heath, we’remore about leaving nature to its own devices.” A short walk from Sandy Heath are the ruins of Pitt’sGarden, which once belonged to the 18thcentury prime minster, William Pitt theElder. A red-brick arch is all that remains, incongruous amid the woodland. Ahuge beech has sprung up beside it, the roots pushing the wall of the arch overto such a crazy angle that David had to insert a support frame to stop itkeeling over – a quick intervention to satisfy both the historians and thenaturalists. Across the road is Hill Garden, perhaps the greatest of allthe heath’s hidden treasures. The huge stately home here has been turned intoluxury flats, but the long, serpentine pergola walkway that winds its way abovethe grounds for a third of a mile is open to the public. Its stone path islined with pillars that in spring are wound with wisteria and roses. “Spring is a time of natural noise. You can actually hearthe sap rising,” says David. “Summer is a time of buzz, the insects andcrickets. And winter is a time of dormancy and silence. That’s my favouritetime of the year, when the heath feels at complete peace.”More ways to see wild LondonTales of the TateImagine that in your hands lies an artwork worth millions of pounds. Oneaccidental kick and you could go down in art history. “It does cross my mindfrom time to time” laughs Kyla McDonald, assistant curator at Tate Modern. “It can be a bit scary,but we have a huge team making sure that each painting or sculpture istransported and stored in exactly the right way.”Since its opening in 2000, Tate Modern’s spectacular TurbineHall exhibits and blockbuster shows have attracted 45 million visitors. Yeteven in a place as popular as this, there remain overlooked spaces. Kylacurates one such space – the Level 2 Gallery. Sitting right next to theThames-side entrance, this area is often missed by visitors marching straightthrough to the Turbine Hall. It’s dedicated to emerging international artists,giving the public a first chance to see the work that may one day hang in thehallowed confines of its permanent collection. “This is a space for young artists to enter into a dialoguewith the established names upstairs,” says Kyla, walking around the currentexhibition – showcasing art from Morocco, Lebanon and Romania – and carefullywatching how the visitors are reacting to the art. Even a small show like thistakes six months to prepare. Upstairs, on the fifth floor, is Kyla’s other favouritespace – the Architecture and Power room. Its position, at the back of a roomfilled with Picassos and other big names, means it is doesn’t get the focusfrom visitors that the art here deserves. Highlights include a model of thePeruvian military headquarters in Lima, topped with a printer spurting out tillreceipts with live Google search results for the word ‘brutalist’. This searchcaptures the past dictatorships of South America and references to architectureitself. “This room and Level 2 represent a shift away from the normal canon ofWestern art,” says Kyla. “It’s about trying to integrate a more global senseinto Tate Modern and allow new voices to be heard.”More cutting edgegalleries Olympian caféThe scrum for Olympic tickets left thousands empty handed, and othersdesperately trying to pretend that they’ve always loved dressage and claypigeon shooting. Yet for those wanting to tap into the Olympic spirit evenwithout a ticket, a visit to a small industrial island in Hackney Wick shouldbe a priority. “When the Games start, it’s going to be insane,” says JessSeaton, co-proprietor of The Counter,a brick and steel diner filled with retro furniture and gleaming iMacs. “Alreadywe can hear the intercom, and the floodlights shine straight in the windows.God knows what it’s going to be like when the crowds get here.”The Counter overlooksthe Lee Valley River, a ribbon of water snaking through the industrialheartlands of East London. Raise your eyes above the bank and you’re greetedwith the sight of possibly the biggest construction site in the world – theOlympic Park. It’s so close that customers are in danger of being hit by astray javelin. “We didn’t plan this,” says Jess. “We’re not Olympicsellouts! Before we opened there was nothing here.” She’s not kidding. From theoutside, Fish Island is little more than a ring of warehouses, shippingcontainers and lorries. “There’s only one road in here,” says Jess. “It’s asecret community. But all of those dull warehouses are packed with creativepeople. Hackney Wick has the highest concentration of art studios in the world.”The Counter’s superlative breakfasts and views have drawn people in from acrossthe city. And now its prime Olympic location has put the area under a globalspotlight. Despite worries that the Games’ proximity would push rentsup and artists out, Jess has been happily surprised that this hasn’t happened.“This will never be a post-Olympics ghost town. We’ll still be here when theattention moves on,” she says. “It’s a very special area and everyone wants tokeep it that way.”More alternativeOlympic views The article 'An insider's look at London' was published in partnership with Lonely Planet Magazine.