For the past three days I have been looking at the pictures in this thread. I have looked at them all now. Though I am red eyed and blurry I enjoyed every one of them. Thank all of you for posting the photos. Probably will be the closest I ever come to being there.
While looking through the pictures I couldn't help thinking about the incredible amount of labor it took to lay all those bricks. When you consider that each brick had to be laid one by one, leveled, and plumbed it boggles my mind.
Were the bricks made in or near London?
Hi Stan. Welcome to Casebook.
Brick-making was a massive industry in Victorian Britain. Here are a couple of brick-making related links for you:
The Victorian London link in my post above has an eye-opening report from the brick-making industry. Women and girls did the very dirty work of grubbing out the wet clay with which bricks were made, and then carried the sacks upon their backs and heads.
They earned 5d. (5 pennies) per TON! And they were considered fortunate to have the work. Imagine carrying 2,000 lbs of raw clay, barefoot and half naked, 150 ft or more, for 5 cents!
And to make it worse, fivepence in Victorian money is only twopence in modern decimal-based coinage.
The other day I was driving down Whitechapel Road when I noticed a fellow human being lying flat on his back, in broad daylight, near the corner with Vallance Road.
Passers-by were stepping round and even over him, with barely a glance.
Perhaps they were put off by the stench of stale alcohol?
I saw his trainers twitching and once or twice his arm moved up as if in supplication.
It made me ponder on the heartlessness of my fellow man, and how times have changed so little over the past 124 years despite our supposed advances in civilisation. Ours is not a very caring society.
For some reason I was reminded of the famous Roman statue Ė the Dying Gaul.
Unfortunately I didnít have a decent camera on me and had to make do with my I Phone as I cracked off a quick snap while caught at the lights. Itís lucky that someone as sensitive as me was there to capture for posterity this poignant moment. Phew.
... but unlike you, snapping away from your car and those other people stepping around that prone figure, Charles Cross was concerned about the woman who was flat out on the pavement, even going as far as initiating contact with a stranger, God forbid.