To sum it all up……

mathematics-1044091__340.jpgEver since childhood I have been fascinated by the  idea of creating buildings,  but architecture always required a knowledge of maths,  a skill which for some reason has always escaped me.

At ten I received extra maths tuition to ensure my  passing the  11+ exam to enter grammar school. Cousin Ben, taciturn, serious and reproving, was press ganged into the role of tutor.   I  visited him weekly for my hourly lesson which I dreaded.

Sadly all that this extracurricular activity achieved was to instil in me a lifelong dislike of anything to do with numbers.

Despite my truculence, Ben somehow engineered my entry to grammar school where I was introduced to the complex world of ‘metry’s’ such as geometry and trigonometry plus algebra, fractions, decimals, square roots and cubes. All of which were and still remain a complete mystery.


Miss Hartill, our maths teacher, was to say the least ‘unusual’.  During lessons, she would suddenly put her hand to her ear exclaiming ‘listen girls!’ whereupon we rushed to the window to revel in the sight of a thrush, blackbird or magpie.  But to give her credit, I may have been a total disaster at figures, but  I became unusually adept at recognising birdlife.

I left school at 16 clutching nine ‘0’ levels including a failure in maths, having achieved 11%, presumably because I wrote my name and address correctly at the top of page one. This meant that the range of career opportunities open to me was limited, certainly no science or architecture.

This did not really register as a hardship, largely because  in those days we young ladies were not encouraged to go to university.  Our destiny was to become secretaries or hairdressers, find a husband and settle down. But my year at the Manchester College of Commerce was not wasted, for, when I eventually went to Durham University aged 31, I was one of the few undergraduates able to type as quickly as someone could speak – invaluable for taking notes and writing assignments.

My choice of subject was decided according to the length of the departmental queues on enrolment day.   Law was very long, so I opted for the shortest queue which happened to be Sociology, enabling me to get home to my children by 3.30pm. Thus are our significant life choices determined.

After year one, I had to select whether to continue with Psychology or Sociology.  I  chose the former, until realising that maths was essential for understanding statistical method.  A long suffering mathematician friend offered to teach me the basics of ‘long division’ but after four weeks he gave up in despair, declaring that I was a lost cause.

This inability has dogged me all my life. As Director of a Citizens Advice Bureau my heart sank when clients arrived  with debt counselling problems or tax issues.   Any mail I received such as bills or bank statements,  was immediately consigned to the waste bin.

Imagine my joy therefore  when, very recently, I learned of a condition called DYSCALCULIA.   It sounds like an exotic flowering plant, but is in fact a disability suffered by the  6% of the population who have difficulty in comprehending arithmetic.

The sad thing is that this never existed when I was young – not one single person in my school was ever diagnosed with Dyscalculia, Dyslexia,  Dyspraxia, ADHD, Autism or any of the conditions that today seem almost mandatory.  They had simply not yet been invented. Instead we were classed as ‘slow learners’, ‘late developers’ or just plain ‘thick’.

But somehow my love for architecture flourished.  In 1985 I organised an  exhibition from Israel called “Build Ye Cities’ at the Royal Institute of British Architects.   A week of lectures was  followed by tours to six UK universities where visiting architects, included luminaries such as Moshe Safdie, Michael Levin and  Arie Rahamimoff, spoke about Israeli Architecture in the 30’s, Planning in Jerusalem, Solar Energy Architecture and Kibbutz Design. I was hooked.

Today, now that I accept that I might be Dys-whatever, I welcome the challenge.   Six years ago I mastered the art of sudoku and am now  totally obsessed and up to ‘Super Fiendish’ level.    Yes, I know it is logic and not maths, but it is still numbers as far as I am concerned and is something that gives me an enormous sense of achievement.

pythagoras-1271942__340.jpgMaths dates back 3,000 year or more but it was Pythagoras (with his theorem) who stimulated centuries of discussion among physicists and philosophers, and later Galileo who, in the 16th century, declared that the universe is a ‘grand book’ written in the language of mathematics.

I nod sagely, but to be honest, remain mystified.  Some of my scientific friends try to explain that maths is everywhere, including art and nature, so some time ago  I gingerly ventured into the world of ‘The Fibonacci Spiral’  – nature’s numbering system that determines the positions of leaves on stalks and the arrangement of seeds on sunflowers – all organised in a precise mathematical way. It was an eye opener.

Therefore recently I decided  to try  and extend my knowledge by visiting  the new maths pavilion at London Science Museum designed by the late architect, Zaha Hadid. She wrote “when I was growing up in Iraq we played with math problems as we would play with pen and paper to draw – it was like sketching.”

On entering the pavilion the first sight you encounter is a magnificent ceiling sculpture swirling around a 1929 Handley Page aeroplane- built using ground breaking aerodynamic research to produce a safe aircraft. Hadid’s sculpture represents the mathematical equations that describe its airflow – it is a an unforgettable sight. 

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Beneath it cases display some of the seminal inventions that have transformed our lives.  

1666 calculator.jpg A 1666 calculator which Samuel Pepys described as “Pretty but not very useful”, and  another  huge calculator built the year I was born, brought home to me how much can change in a lifetime.  Calculators have become smaller and smaller until now you add up using your iPhone.  The same goes for the progress of computers since pioneer Charles Babbage originated the concept of computing way back in 1791

Calculator 1939.jpgcalculator born same year as me!

Next the Astrolabe – not just a new word to use in  scrabble, but an instrument used in astronomy to measure altitudes and aid navigation.  Their use goes back to Classical Greece – it was said that “if you hold an astrolabe you have the universe in your hands.

astrolabe.jpg  An astrolabe, 17c.

Something more prosaic to hold in your hands is a pint of beer and the museum displays standard measures for this purpose. It is quite touching in these days of decimalisation to know  that a  UK regulation was passed specifying that draught beer and cider may be sold by the imperial pint in perpetuity. Yippee!  how reassuring it is  to know that some of our great British traditions remain untouched.

.PINT measure.jpg  British beer measures 

There is also a World War 11 German  Enigma machine – famously decoded by Alan Turing and his team at Bletchley Park.  You can also learn of Euclid’s contribution to geometry (2000 years ago) and see JWTurner’s sketches from his Royal Academy lectures on perspective.   (see below)All this and much more.Turner sketch.jpg

So where does this leave me? My visit was a revelation and for the first time I began to feel disappointed that all my life I had chosen to dismiss maths as irrelevant.  Only now am I beginning to comprehend its fundamental role  in underpinning so much that we take for granted both in nature and science.   Perhaps had I known this earlier, I might  have exceeded my 11% mark. This we shall never know.


The Urban Village of Nachlaot

One of the most fascinating areas in Jerusalem is Nachlaot close to Mahane Yehuda Market.   Its winding lanes and alleyways reveal a variety of architecture, hidden courtyards, artists’ studios and a proliferation of synagogues.

The original residents arrived in the late 1870’s to escape the overcrowded  and unhealthy living conditions in the Old City. The first community built was there was Mishkenot Yisrael.  Sir Moses Montefiore, the British Jewish philanthropist, established  the first community outside the Old City  walls at  Mishkenot Sha’ananim. He then created two Nachlaot communities, Mazkeret Moshe, for  Ashkenazim followed by  Ohel Moshe  for Sephardim in 1882. Three others  were also named in his honour. In 1900 Jews from Syria arrived and 1925  the Yemenites established Nachalat Achim. Nachlaot ultimately comprised 23 groups including Kurds, Greeks, Persians, Italians, Armenians, North Africans plus Ashkenazim from various countries.

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Dedication to Sir Moses Montefiore at the entrance of  Ohel Moshe.

Walking through the narrow cobbled streets one can readily bring to life the rich tapestry of cultures living together harmoniously from the photographs and texts mounted on the house walls telling of the families that once lived there.

Daniel Senior’s family were expelled from Spain in 1492, fled to Turkey and eventually came to Jerusalem. He lived in the Old City, running a vegetable shop in partnership with an Arab. As one of the first to move to Ohel Moshe, then surrounded by fields, he was regarded as the Mukhtar (Head of the Village).   His home comprised one room, on top of which he built a second and then a third – the ground floor eventually becoming a store. 

Rabbi Binyamin Halevy’s family fled from Spain to Livorno Italy where they remained for 240 years, coming to Jerusalem in 1732. Halevy’s descendants became scholars, rabbis and community leaders.  One was Chief Rabbi.  It was he who supervised the re-building of a water and sewage system for Nachlaot damaged by earthquake. He made a huge contribution to Jewish life  and was an ardent Zionist. Another was an emissary who, in 1882, travelled to India to investigate the Black Jews of Cochin whose history dates back to the 12th century.  He returned declaring that they should be allowed to convert to Judaism although it took until 1950 for the majority of them to reach Israel. Halevy’s descendants are ninth generations Israelis.

Others commemorated in the plaques are  Rabbi Shalom Hadaya,  who chose to live there because “They speak Ladino, which I do not understand, so I will not be able to hear slander” (Lashon hara), and Avraham Cohen – the Dairyman for Nachlaot – whose family have now lived in Israel for ten generations.Navon familyG_9419.JPG

Photo and text of Navon’s family.

The first Sephardi Israeli president, Yitzchak Navon, was born in Ohel Moshe in 1921, descended from Spanish Jews who settled in Turkey after fleeing Spain. They moved to Jerusalem in 1670.   As well as being a diplomat and academic, Navon was an accomplished author and reminiscences of his childhood in Ohel Moshe  provided the inspiration for his play Bustan Sephardi ( Sephardi Orchard) in 1970.

Written in Ladino, (a Spanish based language spoken by Sephardi Jews) it is the longest running play to appear at Habima Theatre where it ran for 28 years.  It celebrates, through stories and songs, the vibrant life of Ohel Moshe in the 1930’s.

At one time there were 300 synagogues in Nachlaot, probably the largest number to be built anywhere in the world in such close proximity. Some were simply a room to accommodate the 10 men required for communal prayers. Today there remain around 100  offering a choice of  prayer services to suit all tastes.

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Interior of Ades Synagogue     

Jews from Aleppo built the Ades synagogue, renowned for its unique liturgical style and baquashot (pleas) – a cycle of Cabalistic poetry sung at 3am Shabbat mornings during the winter months. Apparently it plays to full houses and for one brief moment I considered going to the service, but common sense prevailed, added to the fact that I have never been known to rise before 9am.   Instead I visited the synagogue at a respectable hour, found the door open and  was permitted to enter and take photographs.  The interior is exquisite – the Ark  occupies the entire eastern wall and is made of carved walnut inlaid with mother of pearl.  It was brought from Damascus over 100 years ago.  A mural adorns another wall, created by one of founders of the the Bezalel Art School.

ADes aron kodesh..jpg  Ark of the Ades Synagogue

The Or Zarua synagogue (1926),  in Spanish North African style, is now a historic preservation site, and nearby is the Chessed Ve Rachamim ( Kindness and Mercy) Sephardi synagogue, with its richly decorated interior and depictions of the Twelve Tribes and the Eshet Chayil (Woman of Valour) poem on  its frontage.  The building is eclectic, resembling something from Grimm’s fairy tales, but it was still surprising to discover that it had once been a pub. Not something that one normally expects to find in Jerusalem, akin to the fish and chip shop that I discovered in Mahane Yehuda.

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Front of Chessed ve Rachamim Synagogue

90 years ago a local butcher, Isaac Emosa, persuaded the pub owner to vacate the premises immediately  with an offer of £10 sterling.   One of Emosa’s descendants, Cantor Mori Emosa leads the services today – it is said that his  ‘utterly precise cantillation’ is operatic aria.(quote:Jacob Solomon)

After WW1 6,000 people lived in Nachlaot. New immigrants arrived in the 1920’s but many preferred the newer neighbourhoods and Nachlaot became home to those who rented properties – the area became neglected.  Following the establishment of the State of Israel (1948), more arrived, including Jews who had been thrown out of the Jewish Quarter of the Old City by the Jordanians and Jews fleeing from North African countries.

After the reunification of the City in 1967,  the population increased rapidly but then fell to 4,000 by 1988 as it had  become a slum. Fortunately in 1991 the area was selected for renovation with grants available from the municipality.  This created a new lifeline for Nachlaot and today it is a melting pot of artists, musicians, new age hipsters and health gurus who mix seamlessly with traditional religious  communities.

Exploring and researching Nachlaot demonstrated just how fortunate it was that those early visionaries followed their dream, crossing continents,  often trekking across mountains and deserts to reach their promised land. One cannot imagine their trials and tribulations en route, but they arrived, and in doing so contributed significantly to the development of the country.

It was also invigorating to meet some of the impressive young people who are today dedicating their lives to regenerating a love of Zion in the hearts of their contemporaries.

They aim to restore some of the values and joy in Judaism that for many has  been lost. I spoke with David Abitbol for whom the  Abrahamic  tradition of hospitality to strangers is ‘a cultural imperative’.  He and his wife Ayo invite visitors to their home each Shabbat where up to 20 or so people are hosted by this warm, energetic and intelligent couple.  The bonus is that they are both excellent cooks who spends much of their time exploring the world of food with the emphasis on nutrition and health. David is an avowed ‘foodie’ who set up a website called ‘Jewlicious’.

Ayo (studying for her Masters in natural resource management), recently hosted a chocolate making workshop and gives yoga lessons (not at the same time) and the couple help to organise music and cultural events.

Music however  is not new to Nachlaot – well known performers Ehud and Yossi Banaiand Aaron and Yonatan Razel, lived there. On my last visit whilst walking down a peaceful lane I heard fascinating sounds emanating from a building – this turned out to be ‘Ethnic Musical’ a studio specialising in  promoting Central Asian music from countries such as Persia, Armenia,Turkey and Azerbaijan. They sell a beautiful range of locally made ouds

2017-01-11 16.06.28.jpg ( see above) and I also learned about the Kamanche, the Persian Tar and the eight stringed Tanbur (instrument of lovers) – all new to me. I also met some musical devotees who,  when asked why they chose to play these instruments, responded – “the instrument chose me”. Several of the customers are descendants of the original Kurdish Jews for whom this music would have been familiar.   It was moving  to see how the owners of Ethnic Musical  are revitalising traditional music from the original dwellers of Nachlaot and simultaneously enriching the lives of the vibrant  young community that now lives and works there.

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Water, water everywhere and quite a lot to drink….

I was born and bred in Manchester, a place where more often than not it rained. This climate had certain advantages. Without it the cotton trade would never have begun, damp weather being essential for cotton spinning. ‘Dark Satanic Mills’ appeared all over Lancashire and Liverpool was nearby to facilitate the import of raw cotton from the States and to export Lancashire’s textiles world wide. A second successful industry created by the weather, not unexpectedly, was the manufacture of raincoats and umbrellas.

It was something of a shock to my system therefore, when, in 1976, the UK was subjected to a heatwave and drought that lasted for months. The earth became rock hard, reservoirs and rivers dried up, trees perished, grass was no more to be seen and forest fires could not be extinguished because of lack of water. 15 consecutive days in June and July exceeded 30C and five days exceeded 35C.


Water standpipes, one for every 20 households, were erected in many parts of the country where residents queued patiently to fill their buckets, recreating a national spirit not experienced since the Blitz. 20 million people were subjected to a hosepipe ban forbidding the watering of gardens or cars. Those with dirty cars were seen as patriots, but heaven help anyone who secretly contravened the rules and crept out at night to water their flower beds. Vigilante groups were constantly on watch.

Unknown.pngA Minister for Drought was appointed who urged everyone to “Bath With A Friend” provided only five inches of water was used. He also consulted aboriginal rainmakers who instructed him how to perform a rain dance on behalf of the nation. This evidently worked, as in late August there were massive thunderstorms followed by endless rain throughout September and            October.

Around this time I made my first visit to Israel. I travelled to a land that was sixty percent desert. I recall how responsible Israelis were about conserving water. Army reservists were ordered to save it and I was regularly admonished by friends not to wash dishes or brush my teeth under a running tap. To this day Israel’s continuing concern about water is evident by the daily press reporting on the current level of the Sea of Galilee.

Israel’s expertise in water management goes back to the 1930’s and to one person in particular, Simcha Blass. As one of the founders of Mekorot, Israel’s national water company, it was he who planned the first modern aqueduct in the Jordan Valley and the first water pipeline to the Negev in 1946. The pipes installed were previously used by the London Fire Brigade during the Blitz and were bought by Blass after WW2.

Israel’s nascent economy was founded upon agriculture. This produced considerable economic growth, but ironically this success, in tandem with a tenfold population increase, placed a massive strain on the country’s water resources. Traditional methods of irrigation involved flooding of fields, but the downside was that much of it evaporated. Some reached the aquifers but as use of pesticides increased, toxic waste entered the food chain through the water.

Blass’s major contribution was undoubtedly the early work he did on drip irrigation which proved to be one of the most outstanding inventions to emerge from Israel. His early experiments led to a highly sophisticated system, patented in the early 1960’s when, In co-operation with Kibbutz Hatzerim, the Netafim Irrigation Company was established. Using this system, minute amounts of water are dripped onto each plant. Crop yields increase, food prices drop and the aquifers are unpolluted. The system is so finely tuned that sensors can identify a plant’s water stress and accurately regulate the levels of water it requires. Today Israel’s desert is the only one in the world that is shrinking and Ben Gurion’s dream to see ‘the desert bloom’ has become a reality.

However, in 2006 Israel faced its worst drought for 900 years and by 2010 the Sea of Galilee, upon which Israel relied for fresh water, dropped almost to the ‘black line’ at which point salt infiltration would have permanently harmed the lake. Israeli hydrologists and agronomists took measures to dig deeper wells, repaired leaks as they occurred and developed ways of reusing sewage for crops. Today 85.6% of sewage is recycled.

But the area in which they made massive strides was desalination. This was originally an expensive option until the Sorek Plant – the largest reverse-osmosis desalination plant in the world – made huge advances in both design and materials – in particular in membrane technology.

Sorek have established further plants in Israel with more to follow. 55 percent of the country’s domestic water now comes from desalination at a cost of 58 US cents per thousand litres. According to an Massachusetts Institute of Technology academic, the Sorek Plant is the cheapest in the world.

Israel is now in a position to assist other countries facing water problems. The implications for its economy are evident. Israeli produced desalination plants have been constructed in California, and their hydrologists have proven that, in spite of climate change, it is possible to harness Mother Nature to transform a country from one suffering from drought to one with more fresh water than it needs.

In 2018, a ‘Water Knows No Boundaries’ conference will take place where scientists from Egypt, Turkey, Jordan, Israel, the West Bank and Gaza will share experiences. Hopefully this will create a bridge where joint ventures can bring peoples together working for the common good.

Writing this reminded me of how central a role water is in so many cultures. Some years ago I went to Varanasi in India and watched the devoted burying their dead and bathing in the river Ganges.


Bathing at the River Ganges, Varanasi

I also visited the river Jordan where Christians braved the cold to be baptised. On both occasions their devotion was palpable and a truly significant experience. The same is true of other cultures – Baha’i, Buddhism, Hinduism,Islam, Shinto,Sikhism, Rastafari and Zoroastrianism.


Scented Holy Water from the River Jordan.

In Judaism, washing goes back to the Torah, the intention being to recreate a state of ritual purity. Hands must be washed before meals and also after visiting a graveyard. The Mikveh – a bath containing living water – from river, spring or sea – is where women are cleansed after their monthly periods. Converts to Judaism use it as part of their conversion procedure and it is also used for washing newly acquired utensils. The ceremony of ‘Tashlich’ is another occasion when at New Year observant Jews symbolically cast off their sins into flowing water.

Living in Jerusalem we are accustomed to seeing religious observance in many guises.
However, one event that I found deeply moving was watching a group of ultra-religious schoolboys rushing fully clothed into the fountains at the Teddy Kollek Park. For twenty minutes they ran in and out, splashing and squealing with delight and having a rare old time, watched over by their benign teachers. It was heartwarming to see that, despite the strictures that religion can sometimes place on people, there is still room to permit a show of exuberance as demonstrated on that cold March day. My main concern was how the children, now soaked to the skin, would manage to get back home without catching pneumonia. Perhaps an indication of my abiding concern as a Jewish mother!













The other side of Chelsea…..

London is, of course, steeped in history and a key role in that history has been played over the centuries by its large number of trade Guilds ( associations). The first guild to receive a Royal Charter were Weavers in 1155.

In the 14th century more trades received Charters and by 1515 forty eight ‘Worshipful Societies’ had been established. These ‘Guilds’, each with its own Coat of Arms and distinctive regalia (livery) became known as Livery Companies with their own Headquarters in the City of London. The London Guildhall was the most prestigious. Construction began in 1211 and took 30 years to complete. Miraculously, it survived the Great Fire of London and the Blitz (WW2) with only partial damage. It is the only secular stone building from before 1666 still standing in the City.

These Guilds played a pivotal role – approving membership, maintaining professional standards and establishing strict rules of conduct. Anyone frequenting taverns to excess or attending wrestling matches could be refused admission. In the early 14th century no one could set up shop, join a trade, take on apprentices or vote unless they belonged to a livery company.

Their list of 120 occupations makes fascinating reading – such as Playing Card Makers, Fan Makers and Carmen that I could recognise, but others were unknown to me, such as Loriners (horse’s stirrups, bridles), Girdlers (girdles and belts) and Horners (horn drinking vessels). Interestingly this traditional practice of establishing Livery Companies continues until today,  recent additions being Hackney Carriage Drivers, International Bankers, Management Consultants and Airline Pilots. I trust they were all closely vetted regarding their propensity to drink or attend wrestling matches.


view of the Chelsea Physic Garden

It was my discovery of a unique place in London – the Chelsea Physic Garden – that sparked my interest in Guilds, for  this Garden was founded by the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries (pharmacists) in 1673 to train apprentices in identifying medicinal plants. Its first benefactor, Hans Sloane, provided land at a rent of £5 a year in perpetuity, on condition that 50 species of new plants were submitted to the Royal Society annually.

The location of the garden by the Thames was crucial, for this was the Age of Exploration when adventurers travelled the world seeking anything new in the botanical field, returning with their finds and mooring their vessels alongside the garden. One of the most famous explorers was Captain James Cook who, in his ship The Endeavour, discovered Australia. During a three year odyssey, accompanied by leading botanist Joseph Banks (adviser to King George III) he returned with over 3,000 plant specimens of which 1,000 were previously unknown.

My own somewhat tenuous link with Captain Cook is that he was born in the Yorkshire village of Marton. A monument dedicated to him is close to Roseberry Topping. I had a perfect view of this local ‘mountain’ from my Middlesbrough home. I walked up there often, including one occasion when I careered down its snow covered slopes on a toboggan to encourage my unborn first child to make his appearance! He chose to wait another six days.

On my visits to the Chelsea Physic Garden I was fortunate in meeting two wonderful guides, Anne and Michele, who brought the place alive with their unending enthusiasm and extensive knowledge. They explained how it had developed as an important centre of learning for apothecaries, maintaining its medicinal plant collection until today.

The Garden of Medicinal Plants contains hundreds of plants from all over the world. The Madagascar Periwinkle is now recognised as something of a miracle for its treatment of childhood leukaemia – increasing life expectancy from 5% to 95%.

Another plant – the Chaste Berry, was traditionally sprinkled on the food of Monks  to  suppress their sexual desire.  Pliny the Elder wrote about it in 77AD as did Chaucer in the Middle Ages. However subsequent researchers claimed it to be both anaphrodisiac and aphrodisiac. Somewhat confusing, but no more than today’s tabloids telling us how certain foods and medicines are good for us one day and then  bad the next.


The large leaved castor oil plant

The Garden of Poisonous Plants contains a Castor Oil Plant – dramatic in both appearance and usage. It grows to almost 10 feet with huge leaves. Castor oil has many medicinal uses, best known as a laxative, but it was also an effective lubricant for aircraft engines in WWII. It does however have a ‘black’ side as the source of ricin, one of the world’s deadliest poisons.In 1978  it gained notoriety when a Bulgarian dissident was assassinated by a poison tipped umbrella on London’s Waterloo Bridge.

Flourishing in the Garden of Edible Plants is the Carolina Reaper – reputedly the hottest pepper in the world and now grown in Bedfordshire.. The Scoville Scale for assessing peppers’ heat, had to be re-calibrated to test it as it measures 2,200,000 units compared to cayenne at 50,000 units. Customers are advised to wear gloves when handling them. In my view it should carry a health warning as chilli of any strength is absolutely top of my ‘no eat list’. I personally question its inclusion in the ‘edible’ section!

Here you will also find  the largest outdoor fruiting olive tree in Britain and the most northerly grapefruit tree in the world. In 1945 a local lady wanted a house plant and placed a grapefruit pip in a pot. It grew and grew until eventually she had to extricate it from her home and offered it to the Garden.  It settled in happily, but took 50 years before it would bear fruit. Today it blooms abundantly, so much so that its grapefruits are made into marmalade each year. A niece of the lady who planted the seed visits the garden regularly to check on its welfare.

Two other trees that cannot be missed are a pair of huge Gingko Biloba, (Maidenhair), one male one female. This variety of tree dates back 270 million years. They adapt well to urban settings, being resistant to both pollution and pests, and are frequently used to provide shade in cities. Miraculously four gingko trees survived the 1945 atomic bomb at Hiroshima, despite being only 1 – 2 kilometres away from the blast. They flourish to this day which perhaps explains their capacity for survival since the Ice Age. There are those who believe that Gingko Biloba is effective for memory enhancement. A good friend of mine started taking this herb and continued for a year, at which time he said that he must buy some more, but had forgotten its name. To this day I cannot but be astonished that he never once questioned its efficacy.IMG_8284.JPGpart of the ‘Tea’ garden growing many varieties

The Garden was also important in developing trade – cotton being sent to the southern States of the US, tea seedlings were shipped from China to India and the rubber industry was developed in Malaysia. Britain can be justifiably proud of its involvement, however King James I’s attempt to break down the French monopoly of silk manufacture was not so successful. He imported 10,000 mulberry trees from Europe, ordering every English landowner to plant them. However he made one fundamental mistake in purchasing black mulberries instead of white ones – the latter being the preferred food of silkworms. His project failed.


White and black mulberries.

There are more than 5000 species of plants in the Chelsea Physic Garden. I cannot even begin to scratch the surface of the richness and stories that you will find there. Suffice to say, go and see for yourselves – it is an utterly enchanting place where I unearth (not literally!) something new every time I visit.

Designs On London



591_N2732_large.jpg  The Olympic Flame 2012 (Edmund Sumner)

For those of you who watched the London Olympics  opening ceremony in 2012 there is little chance you will have forgotten the lighting of the Olympic cauldron. One member of each of the 204 competing countries entered the arena carrying a copper torch which, when when lit  and combined with the others, formed a massive flame symbolising peace and the unity of the Games.  This unforgettable  event was created by British design  studio Heatherwick studio, of which Thomas Heatherwick is founder and design director.

He has an interesting background.  His grandfather, Miles Tomalin, was a communist and musician who volunteered to fight the fascists in the Spanish Civil War. His Jewish grandmother, Elisabeth Tomalin, fled from Nazi Germany and worked with emigre architect Ernö Goldfinger in London, subsequently setting up and directing Marks and Spencer’s textile design studio.

His parents were also creative. Stefany Tomalin, his mother, was a jeweller and painter and his father, Hugh, the son of a servant at  Windsor Castle, played the piano, was a member of the Royal Marines band and a boxer.  He was also pivotal in developing the Heatherwick Studio.

In 2013 I heard Thomas speak at Jewish Book Week. The designer, Sir Terence Conran, calls him the ‘Leonardo Da Vinci of our Times’ and, after hearing Heatherwick’s presentation, I understood why.  My curiosity was aroused  and I determined to visit as many of his creations in London as possible.

bleigessen Bliegessen sculpture at the Wellcome Trust

I went first to the Wellcome Trust  biomedical charity which commissioned Heatherwick to produce a sculpture  for  the eight storey atrium of their London headquarters.  This spectacular  30 metre high artwork can be viewed at 2pm on the last Friday of each month.   I duly attended and was completely taken aback,  particularly after learning of the complex process that resulted in 142,000 glass spheres suspended on 27,000 high tensile steel wires – comprising 15 tonnes of glass and just under a million metres of wire.  My rule of thumb when viewing art is whether it has the ‘wow’ factor – this piece undoubtedly does!

img_7971-copyThe latest Routemaster bus.

Moving from the aesthetic to the practical, I next ventured onto the new Routemaster bus. In 2010 Heatherwick studio joined a team to design a new bus for London – the first since 1968 when the old Routemaster ceased production. This new version entered service in 2012 but differs from the original being 3 metres longer and having  three doors and  two staircases.

IMG_7973 copy.jpg   Interior of the new Routemaster

Initially the  new bus had fixed windows which proved to be a problem in hot weather – but travellers’ concerns were addressed and in future all buses will have opening windows.

At the back of the bus is an open platform, similar to those I remember hanging off as schoolgirl.  Today, ‘customer assistants’  (no more conductors!)  stand at the back to stop people hopping on and off at will, which spoils all the fun –  although I concede that it probably improves passenger safety.  I learned all of this from John and Liden at the Hampstead terminus.  They were not only happy to tell me proudly about their buses but also agreed to photograph me sitting in the driver’s seat. No doubt they assumed I was just another Hampstead eccentric.

My next stop, travelling by bus, of course, was to Paternoster Square next to St Paul’s Cathedral.  This area had been the centre of the publishing trade before its total destruction during the  WW2 Blitz.  Amazingly, St Paul’s itself remained unscathed.  Since the end of the war the area has been redeveloped, one scheme being championed by Prince Charles, and today the area is thriving.   The London Stock Exchange is a major tenant and the place is alive with cafes, bars and shops. In fine weather city workers can play outdoor table tennis or relax in deck chairs during their lunch break, watching old movies on an open air screen.

The developers commissioned some impressive sculptures, including ‘Bronze Paternoster’ –  Shepherd with his Sheep, by Dame Elizabeth Frink.  Nearby stands a 23m high corinthian Portland stone column, boasting a covered flaming copper urn topped in gold leaf which is lit at night. Unexpectedly, this column also has a practical use, serving as a ventilation shaft for an underground service area.  Another part of the Square houses a subterranean electricity station requiring the construction of air vents for  its cooling system.  Heatherwick Studio were commissioned to  find a harmonious solution – functional yet aesthetic.

vents-1-copy-2    Paternoster Vents

They produced a breathtaking 11m high construction comprising stainless steel isosceles triangles. It is hard to believe, but  this impressive sculpture was inspired by a  design created by folding paper, so before you visit the Square, you absolutely must look at the u tube video of the paper folding process! It is fascinating to learn how great designs originate.

iguys-1jpg-copy   Guy’s Hospital new frontage

I then continued south of the Thames to Guy’s Hospital to see another example of Heatherwick’s original approach. Previously, this was a derelict area, made worse by an unsightly and decaying old boiler house. Heatherwick again wrought his magic, wrapping  the building in a specially designed cladding system of woven stainless steel.

However, of all Heatherwick’s work, my favourite has to be  the Rolling Bridge at Paddington Basin, where his studio designed a bridge spanning an inlet of the Grand Union Canal to allow access for pedestrians.  At noon every Friday the bridge rolls up until it stands, like a hamster’s wheel, on one side of the canal. The process takes minutes, following which it unwinds and returns to its use as a footbridge.  It was built on the Sussex coast, floated up the Canal and attached to its hydraulic lifting system on site.

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The Rolling Bridge, beginning to roll up.

img_7944-copy   The Rolling Bridge, rolled up.   

A surprise treat for me was to discover that at 12.15, only 100 yards away, another bridge, the ‘Fan’, this one designed by Knight Architects,  transforms and opens up like a ‘fan’ across the water. Then, just as elegantly, it reverses back to its original position. Another magnificent feat of design and engineering.

IMG_7920 copy.jpgThe end of the ‘Fan Bridge’ before moving.

IMG_7957 copy.jpg   The Fan Bridge, opened up.

I introduced myself to Sameer and Narayan who control the bridges.   Sameer held a small insignificant key in his hand  to start the hydraulics. Knowing my propensity for losing keys, I asked  what would happen if he lost it. Pragmatically, he replied that its value was £10,000 for which he would be held liable. He then showed me a pair of larger keys, valued at £65,000 –  for which he is also responsible –  definitely not a job for me!  Watching these bridges operating was mesmerising, beautiful and moving. Some youngsters standing with me were equally enthralled, reliably informing me that it was ‘totally cool’.

IMG_7950 copy.jpg £65,000 worth of keys!

For those of you wanting something different in London, I recommend following this trail. It is free of charge, and provides an different and cheaper  alternative to visiting Oxford Street.  Heatherwick’s work is quite exceptional. Many of his pieces have won major awards and he has received Honorary Doctorates from four universities, is an Honorary Fellow of the Royal Institute of British Architects and in 2013 was awarded a CBE for his services to the design industry.

I look forward to hearing of his future projects – one in particular being the construction of a Garden Bridge over the River Thames between Temple and the South Bank – the brainchild of actress Joanna Lumley. The initial designs show it to be a magnificent and unique addition to the London scene. With a bit of luck, as well as help with the funding, this bridge may open in 2019.

However  yesterday questions were raised in Parliament from one M.P. urging Heatherwick to consider the bridge as a sanctuary for mammals, in particular hedgehogs – an endangered species. He requests that access points (which are currently lifts and stairs and definitely not hedgehog friendly), should be modified so that our spiky friends can get on to the bridge and enjoy its benefits. The organisers say they will be happy to discuss this and also where saucers of food should be placed for them. It is comforting to know that our government is paying attention to such significant matters in these days of Brexit. Let us hope that they will extend these privileges to other endangered species and will not establish quotas for the numbers of them who can use this facility.

1.816_Garden-Bridge-view-D_CREDIT_Arup.jpgPhoto:  Heatherwick Studio

Quick To The Cut….


Hospitals are generally places that most people choose not to frequent. I have been lucky, for apart from occasional day visits for medical checks, the only time I was hospitalised was when, aged nine, my tonsils were removed. It was a very common operation in those days – the slightest sore throat and out they came. I remained in hospital for a week, being forced to eat runny soft boiled eggs which I have never been able to stomach since without a wave of revulsion. The best thing was that they gave me ice cream regularly, supposedly to soothe the throat.

My three sons were born at home, not hospital. I had to provide the midwife with a range of essential items for the births, including ‘a pair of your husband’s socks’. I asked why his and not mine? but was never told the reason. The births were quick and efficient, being fitted in between other domestic activities.

Writing this story has made me realise just how far medicine has advanced since then. The most significant change in the UK, after World War 11, was the establishment of the National Health Service. In the field of baby care, tests became available for defects such as spina bifida and Down’s syndrome and treatments were developed for children with heart disease. In addition the contraceptive pill was launched in 1950 and the first ‘test tube’ baby was born in 1978 with IVF transforming the lives of many couples who otherwise might have remained childless.

Penicillin was used widely during WW2, then came drugs to combat TB, steroids to relieve pain and inflammation and DNA was discovered in 1962 leading to an understanding of diseases caused by defective genes. Christian Barnard’s first heart transplant in 1967 was followed by the transplant of other organs, and today the replacement of hips and knees is commonplace. I have one friend who has had three hip replacements – I am not sure where they attached the third. Many procedures are now less invasive, being carried out by micro or keyhole surgery and the range of treatments for cancer improves each year. Basically conditions that would have killed in 1950 are now mostly treatable.

This massive leap in medical technology  since the 50’s was brought into sharp focus for me when I discovered that that the oldest operating theatre in Europe is located in a roof space above St Thomas’ Church, close to London Bridge. It opened in 1822 providing treatment for poor females – wealthier patients could opt for a surgeon to visit them at home, where the operation would usually be carried out on the kitchen table.


The Smallest Operation Theatre in Europe

The operations performed were mostly amputations and were seen as a last resort.  Patients were tied to beds as there were no anaesthetics, only opium or alcohol to numb the pain. Speed was of the essence. One respected surgeon reportedly removed a leg in two and a half minutes flat, but in his haste also cut off the patient’s testicles. Perhaps an example of carrying professional enthusiasm too far.

This operating theatre is now a small museum. To reach it you climb a narrow, steep spiral staircase to the roof area of the church. The theatre is light and airy with standing room for about 100. The operating table is in the centre, with a box of sawdust underneath to catch the blood. When the theatre was constructed a double floor has to be installed to stop blood from the operations leaking down and staining the ceiling of the church. It might have been something of a religious experience for  worshippers to see this in the middle of a service.

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The Herb Garret  (part of it above) adjoins the theatre and was originally used by apothecaries to store medicinal herbs. The room is crammed with medical artefacts and written reports of cases.

The term ‘operating theatre’ referred to a tiered amphitheatre where students and other spectators would watch the surgeons  who covered their frock coats with aprons to protect them from bloodstains. A report at the time stated how such clothing became “stiff and stinking with pus and blood”.  The sign of a good surgeon was judged by the amount of blood and stains on his clothing that he did not wash off. They operated bare handed with instruments that were re-used on other patients without sterilization. A doctor was far more likely to wash his hands after an operation than before.  There was little understanding of the causes of infection and no antiseptics until the 1860’s when  Joseph Lister,  following the research of Louis Pasteur, confirmed that germs caused disease. He became known as the ‘father of antiseptic surgery’ and helped to reduce the 50% death rate after operations.IMG_7911.JPG

I found the museum utterly fascinating, but was left with a profound feeling of gratitude that I was born in the next century. As mentioned earlier, my medical history is scant. However in my 20’s I went to the local hospital to have a wart removed from my thumb. I thought it would take five minutes to dab on salicylic acid and burn it off. Instead, I was taken to a ward and told to remove my clothes. I was given a hospital gown, placed on a bed and covered with a sheet in which there was a small hole through which the thumb in question protruded. Five doctors surrounded the bed muttering in low tones. The senior doctor addressed me “You realise, my dear, that if we perform  this procedure it will leave a hole in your finger – so how will you manage to type?” I replied, “No problem at all – I will call my secretary and he will type for me”. Remember this was the 1960’s.

Thirty years ago we bought a home in Jerusalem and I decided to go through the  ‘aliyah’ (immigration) formalities  in order to ship our furniture from England  without import duty. At the Jewish Agency in London I was informed that I must have a medical. I had that morning undergone my annual check-up but that, apparently, was not acceptable. I told the Agency doctor that I was  doing this solely in order to get my furniture to Israel tax free. But he insisted on examining me, then told me to get dressed. Facing me across his imposing desk, he said   “I am very glad to tell you, Ruth, that your furniture is well enough to travel”.

One final addendum to this tale. There are only two operations mentioned in the Bible – castration and circumcision, which brings to mind  the story of  Arthur, who went to his doctor and insisted that he wanted a castration. The doctor tried to dissuade him but the patient was adamant. The operation took place. The following day Arthur awoke to see a man in the next bed. “What are you here for?” he enquired..”I had a circumcision” said the man, to which Arthur replied “Oh damn! – that’s the word I meant!”









A Taste of the High Life

 Not far from our home in Jerusalem, for seven years  we watched the construction of an elegant new hotel – the Waldorf Astoria. According to  their General Manager “It has been the longest restoration project in Israel’s history”.  I hesitate to correct him, but King Solomon set the record by taking twenty years to build the First Temple in Jerusalem. Later, so the Bible says, the Second Temple was rebuilt in only three years  – they evidently had a good team of contractors. With regard to the eventual rebuilding of a Third Temple, there are those who say it will descend from heaven ready made, like a delivery from Amazon or Ikea but with no D.I.Y assembly necessary.  It seems the hotel Manager is only partially accurate in his claim.

The hotel stands on the site where once stood the Palace Hotel, built in 1929 by the notorious Grand Mufti of Jerusalem. Most sources refer to him as ‘the notorious’, probably because of his choice of friend Adolph Hitler – with whom he shared a wish to destroy all the Jews.  The Mufti craved a magnificent edifice where he could entertain distinguished Arab rulers and British officials.  He pressed to have it completed before the new King David Hotel being built further up the street, however his ‘Palace’ operated for a mere six years before it closed because of stiff competition from its more stately neighbour.

palace hotel old.jpg                                                           The Palace Hotel Jerusalem 1929

The story of Waldorf Astoria begins with John Jacob Astor a German immigrant to the USA (1763-1848) – the founding father of one of the world’s great commercial dynasties and reputedly the first multi millionaire in the United States. His great grandson William Waldorf Astor was born in 1848 the year that John Jacob died. It was William who built the first Waldorf Hotel in  New York in 1893, apparently to spite his cousin, John Jacob Astor IV, who then erected a seventeen storey Astoria Hotel adjacent to the Waldorf.  John Jacob sadly met an untimely end when he drowned in the Titanic disaster, 1912.

Following family tradition William became the wealthiest man in the world – partially by choosing his parents well but also through his business acumen – yet he was not happy living in New York being constantly fearful that his children would be kidnapped. So in 1891 he moved with his family to London.  His ambition was to reinvent himself and become a member of the highest echelons of British society.  He lived, as one might expect, in the most expensive mansion in Carlton House Terrace and then bought Cliveden – a magnificent stately home near Windsor, from the Duke of Westminster.  However William needed an Estate Office – no working from home for him, so he bought a plot of land near the Middle Temple facing the Thames and in  1895 began constructing his headquarters that would become No 2 Temple Place. He gave his architect, John Loughborough Pearson, free rein to create ‘the perfect building irrespective of cost’.

cherub 1 sm.jpg                                                                Bronze cherub holding phone

Pearson was well respected with a reputation as one of the great Gothic revivalists. The building, of mock Tudor design, was constructed in Portland stone. On each side of the entrance stand pillar lamps adorned with androgynous bronze cherubs. One clutches a filament electric light bulb, the second holds a telephone to his ear and down below a smaller cherub is talking into a speaker.  These figures paid homage to the great 19thcentury American inventors Thomas Edison and Alexander Graham Bell, giving Astor’s visitors the feeling that they were entering a very ‘modern’ establishment indeed.

This feeling evaporates once  you  reach the entrance hall as the striking floor, made from a mix of rare marble in colours of reds, greens, blues and golds is more reminiscent of ancient Rome. An elegant mahogany staircase rises up to three levels, illuminated from above by a glittering stained glass skylight.

Astor was a well-travelled connoisseur of the arts with a particular passion for books.  Reflecting this, many of the interior panelled walls are decorated with carvings from history and literature.  The Three Musketeers  Athos, Porthos and Aramis stand proudly up the staircase. Characters from Shakespeare, Robin Hood and  Ivanhoe together with historical personae such as Cardinal Wolsey, Columbus, Marco Polo and Captain Cook compete for space with Dante and Galileo.figure in hallway.jpg

The Great Room has carved and gilded portraits around the walls. Astor, whose eyesight was poor, requested gilding so that he could see them better. These historical and fictional personalities are arranged in no particular order resulting in curious juxtapositions.  The main door also displays gilded carvings but this time of romantic heroines from King Arthur’s Tales.  It seems Astor had a penchant for damsels in distress as in other parts of the house we find Juliet, Desdemona, Cordelia amongst others. Queen, Ann Boleyn, also has a place and it is possibly his admiration for her that prompted him to add Hever Castle, once her home.  to his property portfolio.                                              

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                                                     Carvings on the door to the Main Hall.

For me the outstanding features of the main hall are the stained glass windows at either end of the room, one depicting a sunrise and the other a sunset, based on rural scenes, some narrative, others descriptive.   One could easily spend hours examining the details of these exquisite panels.

Reports say that Astor was a brusque, monosyllabic man with no sense of humour. He vowed never to return to the USA declaring it ‘unfit for a gentleman to live in’. Temple Place became his refuge, where he could retreat from the world and feel safe, particularly following the death of his wife, aged only 36.   In Temple Place he was physically as well as emotionally secure, for in the great room was a lever, which when pressed would lock every door in the house instantly. He also built three strong-rooms for important documents, money and other glass window 2 temple  sml.jpg                                                                stained glass sunrise window

Today the building is open to the public only once or twice a year.   It has a palpable sense of history and is well worth a visit.   However If it  is closed, do not despair, for one may instead travel to Cliveden, now a luxury five star hotel, for afternoon tea (£75 p.p.)

Cliveden had an ‘unapologetic history of debauchery’. I well remember in 1960 the huge scandal that took place there involving John Profumo, the  then Tory Defence Minister and a 19 year old prostitute, Christine Keeler. ( who was also having an affair with a Russian spy). Profumo had to resign.  Another key player in this scandal was Mandy Rice Davies, who married an Israeli, moved to Israel and  converted to Judaism. She later returned to London where she described her life as ‘one slow descent into respectability’.

In 2014 the Cliveden offered a one off extra special spread costing £550 per couple, including standard English cream tea, cognac preserve, beluga caviar and the finest Da Hong Pau Tea, harvested, as I am sure you know, from 1000 year old plants. You could also partake of Kopi Luwak coffee at £50 per cup. This coffee is made from part digested coffee cherries eaten and then defecated by the Asian civet cat.  The excrement is collected and made into coffee.  I choose not to know how the workers gather it but trust they are permitted to wear plastic gloves.

I doubt whether this special afternoon tea included waldorf salad created in 1896 at the New York Waldorf Astoria by maitre d. Oscar Tschirsky.  It is unthinkable to consider what a dismal world we would now live in without his celery and apple creation, or his praiseworthy efforts to popularise Thousand Island Dressing.

Benjamin Franklin once said “If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are dead, either write something worth reading or do something worth writing about”.

I wonder how William Waldorf Astor would feel today if he knew that most people associate ‘Waldorf’ with his eponymous salad, rather than for any of his more illustrious achievements.