The entrance to the Tram Tunnel on Kingsway, Holborn

Dear Readers, I have crossed the road here at Kingsway many, many times en route to the London Review of Books bookshop on Bury Place (major plug for one of the best bookshops in London), but have never really paid attention to this long tunnel to nowhere. However, in the 1930s this was a major part of London’s extensive tram network, linking the lines north and south of the river Thames and contributing greatly to the ‘joining up’ of the metropolis. Sadly, this all came to an end in 1952, when the powers that be decided that trolley buses, and then motorised buses, were the way to go instead. 

I should declare an interest here: my Dad, though just too young for the trams, was for several years a conductor on the trolley buses, and remembers the trams in Stratford, East London. The anecdote here is that, having spent a considerable sum on a tandem bicycle, Dad (who was steering) managed to get the vehicle stuck in the tramlines, and when the bike fell over, bashing Mum on the head and leaving her stunned in the middle of the oncoming traffic,  he rushed to pick up not my 18 year-old mother, but the tandem. When quizzed as to his priorities, he responded with

“Well, the bike might have got run over”.

I’m not sure my Mum ever one-hundred percent forgave him.

Anyhow, Hidden London (part of the London Transport Museum) organise tours ‘behind the scenes’ at various London Underground stations and other important historical locations, and they are always interesting, plus there’s that certain frisson of being somewhere that you wouldn’t normally be allowed to go. So, off we trot, down a 1 in 10 incline, into the site of the Kingsway Tram station.

The guide tells us that this incline was quite the challenge for a double-decker tram to climb, and on some occasions the tram would instead roll backwards back into the station, much to the delight of any small boys aboard.

The ’tiles’ are not tiles, but specially-coated bricks.

This light, in the centre of the entrance, is the original lamp from when the station opened in 1908. The ones at the top of the incline are copies.

The photo below shows the station (known as a subway, probably because of contemporary developments in New York) when it first opened. To begin with, the trams were single decker (later the station was remodelled to accommodate double-decker trams) and they would have operated alongside horse-drawn transport.

Down we go, into the subway itself. It is very mucky down here, and is largely now used by Camden for storage. It’s also often used as a film set – several of the Batman films had scenes here, one of the episodes of Sherlock (with Benedict Cumberbatch) was filmed in the tunnel, and the film The Escapist was also shot here.

It takes a bit of imagination to recreate the station itself from what’s left. Passengers would have come down two flights of stone stairs, one at either end of a central platform. The trams would have been on either side, and at its peak there were 30 trams an hour passing through the station. You could, at various times, have travelled from Highbury to Waterloo, Hackney to Wandsworth, Leyton to Westminster and Archway to Kennington. The more London-savvy will have spotted that the starting stations were, and in some cases still are, in some of the more deprived parts of London, and the trams were always seen as being working-class transport – they were cheaper than other methods of travel, and although often cramped and grubby they did the job of conveying people from home to work with minimal fuss.

This is what’s left of the platform itself – you can see the stairs down in the middle of the photo. The concrete pillars would have been new and shiny, and to the right you can see the remains of the poster frames that would have held advertisements and maps.

The top of one of the pillars.

This is how the station would have looked in its heyday. I think it would have felt rather exciting to jump onto a tram here. Once the station had been updated to take double-decker trams (it closed in 1929 and reopened for business in 1931) it was hoped that, by doubling the number of passengers the tram system would be more profitable.

Efforts were made to encourage people onto the trams: have a look at this rather stylish poster from the 1930s.

But sadly, it was not to be. It seems all the more sad these days, when we are looking for cleaner modes of transport, that the very extensive tram network no longer exists. Trams can work (there are great examples in Berlin and Vienna for example), but only if there is some way of giving them priority over traffic.

The last tram ran in 1952, and if you have ten minutes to spare, it’s well worth watching this film, though have some hankies ready….

The tunnel itself now ends in a dead end – the part at Kingsway is owned by Camden Council, while the southern end, owned by Westminster Council, was converted to make the underpass which takes traffic to Waterloo Bridge.

Various ideas have been floated about how to use the Kingsway tram subway, but fire regulations have thwarted most of them – the Ford motor company apparently wanted to use it as a central London showroom, and the Royal Opera House wanted to store some of its scenery and props here, but both plans came to nought. It will be interesting to see what happens to this historic space. Surely it deserves better than to be nothing more than a storage depot for heaps of Camden Council paraphenalia?

And on the way out (with my Bugwoman hat firmly back on) I noticed this burgeoning fernery popping out from amongst the brickwork.

There is Maidenhair Spleeenwort and Hart’s Tongue Fern here, plants that I have noticed anywhere else in the vicinity. Are they gradually trying to change the walls into the Hanging Gardens of Fitzrovia? It’s rather nice to see something alive and thriving, though I am rather puzzled as to why they’ve popped up in this gloomy, polluted spot. I’m sure they’ll have their reasons.

Jersey Tiger (Euplagia quadripunctaria)

Dear Readers, Jersey Tiger moths seem to have been popping up almost everywhere in the East Finchley area this week – with their Vulcan Bomber shape and bold black and white wings, they’re a hard moth to ignore. The one below was on my kitchen window and had somehow managed to get itself behind a spider’s web. I don’t usually interfere with nature, but the web looked as if the spider hadn’t repaired it for a few days so I removed it, and the moth flew away into the garden with that startling flash of their red underwings. I suspect that they’re either unpalatable to birds or pretending to be inedible, hence their extraordinary confidence.

Jersey Tigers are still listed as ‘rare’ on the Butterfly Conservation website, but they seem to have increased markedly in numbers where I live in the past few years. Some could possibly be migrants, but I have a gut feeling that they’re established and breeding, not just in Devon and Dorset but right here in London. Climate change has led to warmer winters and so, as the species spends the winter as a tiny caterpillar it probably has a better chance of survival. However, a study in Austria showed that, as hot days increase, these moths (along with several other day-flying species) are increasingly being found in caves, presumably so they can find shelter from the increasing temperatures. Like most animals, Jersey Tigers have a fairly limited range of temperatures at which they can operate, so they may also be moving north because things are hotting up too much in southern Europe.

Jersey Tiger caterpillar (Photo Leyo, CC BY-SA 3.0 CH <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ch/deed.en&gt;, via Wikimedia Commons)

The caterpillars of the Jersey Tiger moth are what’s known as polyphagous, meaning that they eat lots of different plants. However, they seem to have a great fondness for Hemp Agrimony (which my garden is positively awash with at the moment), including stinging nettle, dead-nettles, borage, ground ivy, plantains and brambles. As the caterpillars hatch in September and pupate in May, it’s another reason not to tidy up too much in the winter, tempting though it is. All sorts of creatures are living amongst and inside those tatty plants.

Incidentally, Jersey Tigers look completely different from underneath – they have a kind of rosy glow (much like me after a brisk walk) but  they are also have a pale and fleshy quality which is slightly unnerving (ditto). The wings look a bit like stained glass though, which is very pleasant.

So, I think that the Jersey Tiger is somewhat underreported in London in particular, and I would be very curious to know if any of you lovely Readers in the UK but outside London have spotted any. Incidentally, Butterfly Conservation’s Big Butterfly Count is on from now until 6th August – all you have to do is survey your garden/park/piece of countryside for 15 minutes and report what you see. And one of the insects that they’re asking you to look out for is, indeed, the Jersey Tiger, so hopefully we should get a better idea of what’s happening with the numbers. It will be interesting to see if it is travelling further north and west, or increasing its population. Either way, keep your eyes open for this striking new addition to our fauna.

Horse drawn hearse at Nunhead Cemetery Open Day (Photo by © Peter Trimming and licenced for reuse under cc-by-sa/2.0)

Dear Readers, as I sat on the 263 bus crawling back up towards East Finchley earlier today, I noticed that the reason for our slow process was an absolutely magnificent horse-drawn hearse, heading up towards St Pancras and Islington Cemetery. There were four black horses with plumes and a hearse not dissimilar to the one above – glass sided, and festooned with Arsenal Football Club memorabilia.  I would say that I see one of these hearses on average about once a month heading up towards one of the cemeteries, and I’m always intrigued. There is a certain irony about the fact that the horses and the hearse actually have to be brought close to the site of the funeral by motor vehicle – those horses have a hard enough job getting the heavy hearse from the top of Highgate Hill, and I think this particular funeral actually started from the Church of St Josephs which is just before Waterlow Park.

I am slightly amused by some of the funeral companies advertising their horse-drawn hearses as being more environmentally friendly. Mate, I just saw two enormous vehicles with ‘carriage horses’ and ‘hearse’ on the side speeding up the Great North Road.

Horse drawn hearse from just outside Cambridge © enchantingmiaow and licenced for reuse under cc-by-sa/2.0

Once upon a time, nobody needed to travel to be buried, because the coffin could easily be carried from the church to the graveyard by some strong chaps. However, gradually there was the separation between church and burial site, and so horses were often needed – historically the coffin was carried on a bier, which was basically an open cart. However, horses fell out of favour after the First World War – so many horses had gone to the killing fields of France and Belgium, along with the men who looked after them, and so there was a shift towards motorised transport.

However, people who could afford the expense of a horse-drawn hearse, and a ‘carriage master’ continued to see it as a way of giving someone a stylish send-off (our local funeral directors, Levertons, will do you a hearse and four horses for a mere £1900). (Which is actually a bit less than I imagined).  Four black horses became something of a tradition amongst the East End criminal fraternity, for one thing. And there is something about the clopping of hooves and the black plumes that makes passersby stop and stare. Nobody falls silent, or takes their hat off these days, though – I remember my parents and my grandmother, East Enders all, doing this when a funeral passed as late as the early 1970s. I must admit that I often just stand quietly when I see a cortege.

Very occasionally I see a white hearse drawn by white horses, often with pink plumes. This is nearly always because the deceased is a little girl. I find these occasions particularly poignant.

A white hearse (Photo from https://www.karenbassett.co.uk/horse-drawn-hearse/)

I cannot leave this subject without a few words on the Victorian tradition of the mute. A mute was a paid mourner, often a day-labourer, whose job was to stand outside the house of the deceased and then lead the funeral procession. As this could be a cold, lonely vigil, it was traditional to provide the mute with gin, with the predictable results.

This is exemplified in a quote from the secretary of an English burial society, printed in the illustrated magazine, Leisure Hour, in 1862:

‘The men who stand as mutes at the door are supposed to require most drink. I have seen these men reel about the road, and after the burial, we have been obliged to put these mutes into the interior of the hearse and drive them home, as they were incapable of walking.’ From the website of Austins Funeral Directors here.

Even more in demand was the child mute: you might remember this, from Oliver Twist, when the funeral director Mr Sowerberry considers taking Oliver on as a mute at children’s funerals.

‘There’s an expression of melancholy in his face, my dear, which is very interesting. He would make a delightful mute, my love… I don’t mean a regular mute to attend grown-up people, my dear, but only for children’s practice. It would be very new to have a mute in proportion, my dear.’

In fact, many young ‘mutes’ did their best not to ‘age out’ of their lucrative professions, dressing in children’s clothes and trying to look as juvenile as possible, and who could blame them? Victorian England was a terrible place to be young and poor (or indeed poor at any age), and who could begrudge an adult ‘mute mourner’ his gin? Not me, for sure.

Two professional ‘mute mourners’ (Photo from https://www.reddit.com/r/Damnthatsinteresting/comments/vpv4ar/professional_mute_mourners_an_obligatory/)

Brown-banded Carder bee (Bombus humilis) Photo By Magne Flåten – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=25463396

Dear Readers, I received an interesting email from the Bumblebee Conservation Trust this morning, and it got me to thinking. There are a number of rare bumblebees about at this time of year, but because many of them look similar to commoner species it could be that I’m not noticing them. The bee above, the Brown-banded Carder Bee, is a case in point. It looks very similar to the Common Carder (Bombus pascuorum) that’s all over the garden, but it is even more ginger in colour, and the bands on the abdomen are much darker in colour. Plus, it apparently has a longer head :-). It’s found mostly on the south coast, but can be spotted in London.

Then there’s the Ruderal Bumblebee (Bombus ruderatus) and good luck with telling this one apart from the Garden Bumblebee (Bombus hortorum) unless you are lucky enough to spot the dark or intermediate forms – the dark form is completely black, and the intermediate form looks rather as if a ‘normal’ bumblebee had been dumped into some soot. So, if you see an all-black bumblebee, it’s probably a Ruderal Bumblebee.

Dark form of Ruderal Bumblebee – Photo by S.J. Boulton from https://beekeepersgarden.wordpress.com/2020/04/16/bombus-ruderatus-dark-form/#jp-carousel-9414

And finally, how about this little chap/pess? This is the Red-shanked Carder Bee (Bombus ruderarius), which is described as a ‘rare and declining species’. You might possibly get them muddled up with the Red-tailed Bumblebee, but this latter species is a much bigger insect – carder bumblebees tend to be small and very active, as opposed to the larger bumblebees which often remind me of bomber aeroplanes. They have red ‘tails’ and also red hairs around the pollen baskets on their last set of legs (hence the common name) – you can just about see them in the photo below.

Red-shanked Carder Bee (Bombus ruderarius) Photo by By Ivar Leidus – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=105402836

Anyhow, Readers, it looks like a good time for bee spotting of all kinds. Let me know if you’ve seen anything unusual! I am currently astonished at the sheer number of butterflies on my buddleia, but more about that tomorrow….

A. I think of this as ‘urban chic’ but is the hood a pain in the butt? It could be buttoned or velcro’d down I suppose…

Dear Readers, our lovely Finance Director at work is leaving today, and he has two Bedlington Terriers. You might know that I am a very keen knitter, so I am planning on making the dogs a coat, but, not having a dog myself, I would appreciate the thoughts of any of your dog owners out there on the practicalities. I don’t want other dogs to titter when my FD’s dogs walk past – there’s nothing worse than an embarrassed dog, after all. Plus, it needs to be easy to get on and off, and easy to wash. So, here is the shortlist. What do you think?

B. Fairisle

I love a bit of Fair Isle, and this one looks really easy to get on and off. Plus the stranding at the back of the work would make it super warm, and of course it doesn’t have to be in these colours.

C. Cables

I rather like this as a jumper, but would it be a nightmare to wrestle a dog into? I wonder if you could do it as a cardigan with a zip (but then you’d run the risk of catching fur or something worse in it)

D. College Sweater

This one looks easy to get on and off, but are stripes a bit boring?

Let me know what you think, readers! The consensus in the group was that I should do A (the grey one) but in different, brighter colours for each dog, but I think my FD himself liked the Fair Isle one. All views taken onboard!

Dear Readers, it is always worth having a close look at your flowers at this time of year, in case you are visited by one of these little charmers. This is a leaf-cutter bee, most probably Willughby’s Leafcutter Bee (Megachile willughbiella), and the bright orange underside is because she doesn’t have any pollen baskets on her legs like a bumblebee or honeybee, so instead she has a bright orange ‘pollen brush’ on her tummy.

I was fairly advanced in years before I realised that the UK even had leafcutter bees – I thought of them as tropical creatures, like the leafcutter ants that I’d watched in the Bugs! exhibit at London Zoo, carrying bits of leaf along a rope and using them as the growth medium for the fungi that they actually ate. Leafcutter bees cut perfect half-circles out of the leaves of plants such as roses and, in my case, enchanter’s nightshade, and use them to create cells in which to lay their eggs.

Enchanter’s Nightshade. The Leafcutters have been busy!

I would love to see a leafcutter bee whizzing through the air with a rolled-up leaf held under her belly, but no luck so far. But these insects are commoner than you’d think, though probably not as common as previously (like most things). The Guardian published a Country Diary piece about this very creature in 1916, and it’s well worth a read. See what you think!

Incidentally, if you want to attract this insect, and many other solitary bees, you can’t beat some straightforward, open-flowered plants, like the Inula in the photo below. Hoverflies love them too.

Dear Readers, well here we are, back in East Finchley, and the wind has been something of a feature of the last few days. You might possibly remember that the airport in Austria that we travel home from, Innsbruck, is a Category C airport, which means that the pilot needs special training to land there – the descent involves travelling along the Inns valley, with mountains on either side, regular risks of thunderstorms and strange wind conditions, especially when it’s hot (about 97 degrees at the airport yesterday). Our flight was delayed by about 90 minutes, and on the live tracker we could see it flying over Innsbruck and then circling around to try to find a better approach. Unfortunately for the people waiting for a flight to Frankfurt, their flight couldn’t find a way to land at all – when we left, the passengers were still waiting in Innsbruck while their plane was in Munich. Such are the delights of air travel these days, and the irony that the heatwave in Spain and Portugal was caused by climate change (in part caused by air travel),exacerbated by it being an El Niño year, wasn’t lost on me. I worry about all the people jetting into Greece, Spain and Portugal this summer and being unprepared for what 47/49 degrees Centigrade feels like.

Anyhow, after a bumpy ride, we finally got home, only to see this fallen tree outside the house next door. It’s been windy in the UK (winds up to about 55 m.p.h) which wouldn’t be a problem in winter when the trees are bare. Sadly, at the moment they’re in full leaf, so the leaves act like a parachute, catching the wind and pulling the tree over. The one in the photo is an Amelanchior canadensis – you might remember that it was already at a peculiar angle, which doesn’t help.

The tree last year

It doesn’t ever seem to have been propped up, but then when I looked at the bottom of the tree, it seems to be completely rotten – the portion still in the ground had a mushy texture.

Interestingly, two other street trees blew over in East Finchley yesterday and one of the others was reported to have been rotten at the base as well (it was a much larger, more well-grown tree than the one in the photo). I wonder what’s going on? Are the trees already diseased when the council buys them from the nursery, or is it the conditions that are weakening the trees (drought, air pollution, run-off) that makes them more likely to contract fungal/viral/bacterial diseases? ‘Our’ tree looked fairly healthy except for some crisping of the leaves, but clearly it wasn’t. Was it just the wrong tree in the wrong place? It would be interesting to find out.

And in other news, our cat Willow was so pleased to see us after two weeks that she decided it would be appropriate to sing the song of her people to us every half an hour throughout the night. Readers, I doubt I got more than twenty consecutive minutes at any point. She is completely deaf which doesn’t help with the volume. Hopefully she’ll settle down over the next few nights, otherwise it’s the ear plugs for me. She has also taken to standing in her litter tray with her bum sticking out and creating an attractive water feature all over the floor. Well, she is the cat equivalent of about 91 now, so we will  cut her some slack, but it’s off to the vet with her next week for a check up. I know that if she is getting the cat equivalent of dementia there isn’t much we can do, but let’s see if it’s something else. In the meantime, she is very keen to investigate the fallen tree.  You wouldn’t think she was 91, would you? I hope I’m still as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed if I get to live that long.