A visit to Bletchley Park

The tea room in the visitors centre. I thought this was a good visual metaphor for the grids and patterns that the code breakers were looking for

A comfortable 45 minute train ride from London Euston saw us delivered to Bletchley railway station in bright sunshine followed by a short walk to the entrance to the visitors centre at Bletchley Park. What a contrast this must have been to how members of staff used to arrive at work during WWII when Station X (as it was known) was completely secret.

Now Bletchley Park has its own website but it very nearly didn't survive plans in the early 1990s to be demolished and replaced with a housing estate, petrol station and supermarket. Thanks to the dedication of some well-connected enthusiasts and veterans who had worked there the site has been preserved and allows us, the visitors, to get a glimpse of what it was like slogging away on eight hour shifts breaking the Enigma codes that the German Army and Air force were sending day and night.

In hut 11 the display gives you some idea of the constant noise the WRNS (Women's Royal Naval Service) had to endure not to mention the discomfort of standing up for their whole shift. In huts 3 and 6 where the top secret code breaking took place you can see packets of cigarettes at every desk so the staff must have been working in a fug of fag smoke all day long not to mention worrying about getting the job done which reminds me of working in publishing in the early 1980s.

The results achieved at Bletchley Park due to the perseverance of scholars like Gordon Welchman a fellow at Sydney Sussex College, Cambridge who led the Enigma decryption team and mathematicians including Alan Turing, are credited with shortening WWII by two years which is remarkable. Once the war was over Bletchley Park was shut and all the staff returned to their civilians lives having been instructed never to mention to anyone what they did during the war.

Obviously a visit to this previously secret site feels a bit artificial. Civilians would never have been given access to stroll around the offices, loll about in the canteen or lounge around the gardens any more than we would be able to at MI6 or MI5 now but it does give the visitor some idea how complex the business of preserving a nation's security is which is not something I've ever given much thought to.

Quick pencil sketch of the mansion

Forty Hall & Estate, Enfield

Clare Twomey 'Everyman's Dream' in the Great Hall

Yesterday afternoon I was sitting in a small room on the first floor of Forty Hall listening to Sir Nicholas Rainton, Lord Mayor of London, explain why he had chosen Enfield in particular to build his house. He explained that as a Puritan he would be surrounded by like-minded people and that it was as far out of London as you could ride without having to change horse.

I obviously wasn't eavesdropping on a real conversation, since Sir Nicholas Rainton died in 1646, but instead I was enjoying listening to a recording made by actors designed to bring the house and grounds to life. Forty Hall is Grade 1 listed and 'is a fine architectural example of the change in style from medieval to modern.' The house and estate are now owned by Enfield Council which must be quite a responsibility since in the past it has been owned and occupied by a number of influential families.

The people who care for this impressive pile appear to have successfully navigated the tricky task of preserving its many layers of history while allowing it to live in the present. The tour around the house is easy to follow but there are surprises which greet you en route. If my mobile phone had been smart enough I could have listened in to servants as they went about their duties which would have been fun. You are encouraged to pick things up and open closed doors. One of these eventually leads you to Sir Nicholas' bedchamber which is surprisingly austere and there you can learn about the bequests he made in his Will.

Clare Twomey 'Everyman's Dream'

Within this setting there is currently an exhibition called Legacy: Two works about Hope and Memory. It is to commemorate the centenary of the outbreak of World War I and while it isn't specifically about war it is about 'personal loss, legacy, testimony and commemoration'. Clare Twomey's Everman's Dream is on display on the ground floor in the Great Hall and in the Parlour. Clare Twomey works in ceramics and her installation consists of many identical bowls and on inside each one is a simple line of text in gold leaf of how an individual would like to be remembered. An air of peace and quiet permeates the house and this is especially noticeable where Clare Twomey's work is on display and it is this silence that allows you to hear the hopes of all these people who are present in these bowls.

Upstairs on the first floor is Julian Stair's Reliquary for a Common Man. Julian Stair made a recording of a relative of his who, I think, was his great-uncle who reminisced about his youth and how he was drawn to either Communism or Socialism. You could listen to this gentleman talking while watching old colour cine footage of him as a younger man relaxing on holiday and then turn around and see still photos of him through his life. Julian Stair is also a potter and had made a container that included some of his relatives ashes in the fabric of the pot as well as containing the ashes which I found a bit disturbing (assuming I understood the work correctly).

From this floor you can look out on the lawn and you can see inscribed into the turf the words in large letters LEST WE FORGET which I imagine is another reference to World War I and the view takes you to an avenue of trees that leads the eye to the site of Henry VIII's Elsyng Palace, but that is another story.

The exhibition is on until Sunday 2 November.

Public art 4: Charity by Van Spangen and Powell, Mile End

Charity by Van Spangen and Powell

This is a sketch I've drawn of a sculpture that is currently on display outside Hackney Museum which is inside Hackney Library. Well, I assumed it was on display but it turns out that it has been placed here for want of a permanent setting.

The notice on the wall describes it like this: 'Charity' by Van Spangen and Powell, Mile End. This sculpture dates from around 1800 and once stood on St Leonard's Parochial Schools in Kingsland Road, Shoreditch before being moved to St Leonard's Children's Home (orphanage) in Hornchurch, Essex.

I've just checked the distance from Shoreditch to Hornchurch on Google maps and it's about 17 miles. I assume the state of the roads would have been fairly bad back in the 19th century and it would probably have been carried by horse and cart so I am surprised it has remained intact although I understand it comes apart for transportation. After the children's home closed in the 1980s the sculpture ended up in the gardens of the V&A's Museum of Childhood down the road in Bethnal Green and then was moved again when the museum underwent refurbishment.

It's not unusual to see small sculptures adorning the outside of schools in London. For example Greycoat Hospital School in Westminster has figures of a boy and a girl dressed in clothing contempary to the date the school was founded set in niches in the front wall of the school. Raines Foundation School in Bethnal Green used to have similar figures on display outside their building.

This sculpture is different in that it is telling a story of Charity who is portrayed as a mythical goddess offering support to a boy and a girl. I find it fascinating that the children's clothing is so detailed including showing the girl's bonnet and the way the fabric of her dress falls and the buttons and buttonholes in the boy's waistcoat and their shoes look like something we might wear today.

This sculpture was produced by a Dutchman called Van Spangen who set up an artificial stone factory in Bow in 1800. He used 'cast stone' to produce his work which seems to be a version of fine concrete and is a material that has been in use since the 12th century. This sculpture was very likely made in clay and then cast to look like stone. Van Spangen's firm was broken up in 1828 and the moulds were then sold to a sculptor called Felix Austin. This sculpture was probably just one of many knocked out in that 30 year period and not regarded as anything particularly unusual or special but I've yet to see another one quite like it.