Tag Archives: Oxford Gardens

Car spotting in Oxford and Cambridge (Gardens)

The content of this post arises from the use of an occasional method of mine to stimulate inspiration. Start scanning with one picture you like and keep going until a theme emerges. I don’t know if it always work.

For some reason probably to do with my teenage ideas about what London was like and my deep-seated desire to live there I was very taken with this picture.



Possibly it was because this block of “new flats”, as John Rogers calls them,  in Oxford Gardens struck me as a distinctly 1960s design, light, airy, optimistic and modern in a street dominated by 19th century suburban villas. I have a weakness for these anonymous boxes which can be found all over Europe. It looks a bit like a student hall of residence.

The old style houses have their own charms of course.


The mid-Victorian terrace is another trope of London living in the late 60s and early 70s. Characters in sit-coms and modern dramas lived in them. Pleasant tree lined avenues, a bit windswept, plenty of fallen leaves and a scattering of rough looking British cars.

I know I’ve already implied in the title that there’s going to be some car identification in this post (that was the “theme” which emerged) , but the truth is I’m not that strong on British cars of this era, so I’m going to have to rely on the car aficionados among my readers to do most of the actual spotting. I just know when I see something interesting.



Now that chunky two-tone monster has got to be something good. It looks like it could swallow the Hillman Imp (?) behind it, maintaining a safe distance from the big-eyed creature.

The two cars below look a little exotic.



Is that a Volvo? The sporty one I mean. The one I’m not so sure of, but that grille feature on the side looks familiar somehow. I feel I should know it.

Here’s a Cortina in Cambridge Gardens.



The fairly distinctive rear end of the Mark 1. When I was young you knew that the GB sign meant that the car had been abroad, cruising along continental roads. An Austin Something in the background.

Some of the houses look a little dilapidated, awaiting the coming tide of gentrification.



A Fiat on the right, and between the houses a glimpse of the Westway, or the Western Avenue Extention as it was sometimes referred to at the time. You can see it again here.



Some characteristic graffiti late 60s by the entrance to an access point for builders and other workers .



Above some indistinct graffiti you can see a sign for Laing, the giant construction company which built the Westway. We used some pictures which originated with the company in a few earlier posts. (A typical one) We have many more, and may come back to them again this year.

But back to cars. Here’s a crowd of them, further down the road.



Is that a Triumph in the foreground? A line of parked cars back in 1969/1970/1971  is always interesting, to me at least. In recent times parked vehicles have become an obstruction for the wandering photographer, as I’ve found many times when looking for equivalent scenes to the ones in our photo survey.

There are other sights from the era , such as this low-slung light industrial building, which is still there today.



Or of course the occasional pedestrian.



A different Cortina, with some pedestrians worth zooming in on.



Despite the unlikeliness of one of these people seeing this post, such things have happened, so if one of them is you , or you know who they are, please leave a comment. In any set of photos there are always people you wonder about. That also applies to the cars. In one of my recent posts about Kensal Road, a reader spotted his father’s Studebaker, which I found very pleasing.

Finally, back to where we started. The “new flats”, which are not so new these days but do look more colourful in this century.



And another line of cars for identification.


I’ve jumped about this week so sorry for that and also for giving out identification work and expecting wiser heads to fill in the gaps in my knowledge but as is often the case, the cars stick out for me when looking at pictures from this era. On the subject of cars here is another question. I think I’ve mentioned before that around the late 1970s, somewhere off Dalgarno Gardens (I think) there was a small street which was filled with old Jaguars, which must have been someone’s collection. Does anyone remember this, or are there any photographs? I’m sure I haven’t imagined it.


Obituary Postscript

Having had nothing to report at the end of the last post in the way of the deaths of people I liked, since the last post a fortnight ago  (I gave myself Easter off as I was mostly at home) we have had two deaths in the world of crime fiction.

Philip Kerr was the author of many books but is mainly remembered for the Bernie Gunther series, following a Berlin detective through WW2 and into the Cold war. Although he lived far from the usual haunts of hard boiled detectives, Gunther was a true noir character (although far more ambiguous in his moral code than any Chandler or Hammett hero). If you haven’t read any of the books, I envy you because you now have the chance to read them in chronological order – one of the challenges for Gunter fans was where and when Gunter would start each story. (I see there is some disagreement on this point though, so follow your own instincts) Kerr also wrote three entertaining thrillers in which a football manager solved crimes, surely a first for the genre. His death at what I consider to be a young age is a great loss.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Stephen Bochco, writer, producer and showrunner of many American television crime shows has also passed away. Hill Street Blues was a genuinely innovative show which has influenced a huge number of TV programmes in many genres over the years, and I remember watching each episode avidly in the days before binge-watching. For me and others his masterpiece is NYPD Blue, 12 seasons of police work in one New York precinct in the 1990s, when New York’s mean streets were very mean. It was fascinating to watch the secondary lead character, Detective Andy Sipowicz, become the hero as he made a journey from personal disasters and tragedies to some kind of redemption, contending with his own shortcomings as well as major and minor crimes.

Be careful out there.

Doctor Sleep: fiction in Kensington and Chelsea No.1

This is the first in an occasional series of posts looking at books set in Kensington and Chelsea. But it’s not about Stephen King’s 2013 sequel to the Shining. I don’t know what the authors etiquette for re-using titles is but before Mr King used the title, there was another novel called Doctor Sleep by an American writer called Madison Smartt Bell. He was contemporary with some of those other up and coming American novelists of the 80s and 90s, Brett Easton Ellis, Donna Tartt and Jay McInerney. He wrote a couple of books I liked: Waiting for the end of the world (a title which was also a song by Elvis Costello) and Straight Cut, what you might call an existential thriller set in the world of film editing, which I was very taken with at the time. A few years after in 1991 that he swapped his American settings for London in Doctor Sleep which apart from couple of excursions into Shepherds Bush and docklands is set almost entirely in the Royal Borough. And before William Gibson set the gold standard for Americans writing about London Bell did a pretty convincing job of writing about west London life.


Doctor Sleep is about a few days in the life of a hypnotherapist who suffers from insomnia. His wife leaves him, some former friends come to London and dredge up elements of his former life as a drug addict which he thought he’d left behind and he tries to treat a patient with multiple personality disorder. He wanders around trying all sorts of ways to find sleep, including martial arts and meditating on occult mysteries. And in the background the Notting Hill Carnival is proceeding through the bank holiday weekend, some violent punks are stalking him,  a drug baron mistakes him for someone else, a sinister man from the government uses his services in an interrogation and a young girl has been kidnapped, possibly by a serial killer. Adrian Strother never quite gets to grips with any of this because he is looking for the oblivion of sleep.

Strother lives in North Kensington somewhere in or near Powis Square, seen here in photos from the early 1970s.

Powis Square west side Blake graffitti 1971 KS3442

Powis Gardens west side All Saints Church Hall 1971 KS3531

In the early pages of the book he goes out for some groceries and a live mouse for his pet snake. His journey takes him down Oxford Gardens.

Oxford Gardens North side 40-42 1970 KS399

He sees a couple of patients before he begins to suspect his wife has left him again. As he leaves the house the Carnival is beginning to come to life. He heads south and ends up in Brompton Cemetery.

18 Jun 1989 21 - Copy

“The cemetery itself was in a phase of dissolution, its crypts caving in, headstones tilting crazily some of them overthrown. Now I remembered: the gods, leaving the earth, will go back to heaven…….I was thinking, not for the first time that the broken crypts suggested the dead had found some way of escape and left their houses vacant”

04 Jun 1989 28 - Copy

“The central circle was tall with weeds……at the lintel of the far colonnade there was a flutter of a sparrowhawk landing….the sound of crickets was suddenly loud among the riot of flowering weeds.”

04 Jun 1989 22 a - Copy

He makes his way down the Fulham Road to a martial arts centre somewhere south of the Chelsea Westminster Hospital. There he achieves a moment of unconsciousness when he is kicked in the head during a private bout with his friend Terence. “I found myself whirling through rings and rings of celestial fire.”

The next morning he is back in North Kensington.

Chepstow Villas north side 52-54 1972 KS2370

The Carnival is in full swing.

I felt the shimmer of the sound start a swirling in  my blood….I was drunk with light and sound and sensation…….”

Mahogany Light 2000 - Sue Snyder 03

Mahogany Light 2000 - Sue Snyder 01

Mahogany Light 2000 - Sue Snyder 02

At some point he is aware of being followed. He gets into a fight with a couple of punks. He sees them everywhere for a while .

The dancers parade past him, and the revellers follow with the police maintaining a wary presence at the edges of the crowds. Are some of them looking for him?

1980 Carnival 02

1973 Golborne Road

The punks catch up with him eventually and as he passes through pubs, a police station and a prison  (not to mention afternoon tea at Harrods) the swirling elements of his life go faster. He tries to walk himself into exhaustion, There are hallucinations, a stage performance of hypnosis and he sees his wife again. I won’t reveal the ending but it’s not too much of a spoiler to say it does involve sleep.


Doctor Sleep was turned into a film by the BBC starring Goran Visjnic and Shirley Henderson. It has been variously known as Doctor Sleep, Hypnotic, and Close my eyes. When I wanted to see it again for this post I had to get a German DVD version.


The film seems to abandon almost everything about the story including the Kensington and Chelsea setting (apart from one scene set in Battersea where the World’s End Estate is visible in the background). The insomnia is gone too but the hypnotherapy remains.

And in a way the hermetic philosophy which preoccupies Strother in the book comes to the fore in a plot about the child’s kidnapping, a form of reincarnation and a strand about churches across London forming a pentagram which is reminiscent of Peter Ackroyd’s Hawksmoor and Iain Sinclair’s Lud Heat. Somehow all this is stylistically true to the atmosphere of the book if not to to the aimless quality of its protagonist’s circular journeys.

All of which makes it sound like a bit of a mess, but the result is actually pretty good, for me at least. Mr Bell evidently believed in the film enough to appear in it briefly as a patient of the hypnotherapist.

25 Jun 1989 23 - Copy

There is such a marvelous patience in things that the hope of return cannot be exhausted and that is the end of the story of the shaikh. “

So don’t forget the other Doctor Sleep and its place on the roll call of novels set in Kensington and Chelsea.


You can still buy Doctor Sleep from online and other outlets. I enjoyed it just as much when I read it again for this post. Madison Smartt Bell went on to write a few more novels but I never got around to reading them.

Thanks to Sue Snyder for her carnival photos. Other photos are by John Rogers, Bernard Selwyn or anonymous photographers from the HistoryTalk collection.

I’m currently reading Lionel Davidson’s the Chelsea Murders. Now there’s a forgotten novel. I’m also on the lookout for more books set in Kensington and Chelsea of which there are many. I recently came across some Chelsea scenes in Mike Carey’s The Devil you know. Suggestions are welcome, the more obscure the better.

Incidentally, no disrespect to Stephen King intended here. I’ve read and enjoyed many of his books, but his Doctor Sleep seemed a bit long for me at the moment. I recently read Thomas Pynchon’s Bleeding Edge and Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch in rapid succession so I’m off long books for a while.

Strictly speaking this post should have been my second annual Whitelands College May Queen post (1st here ) but events overtook me and we’ll have to return to the May Queens in a couple of weeks. Next week I hope to return with some previously unseen photos of a familiar place.

But before then I’d just like to mention an event taking place at Leighton House Museum on May 29th, an evening in the spirit of one of Lord Leighton’s own  musical evenings, featuring music by Debussy, Schubert, Arne and Howard Blake. I don’t normally do current events on the blog but my colleagues at Leighton House have provided two images showing the room as it is now and how it was in Leighton’s day which are worth a look:




Copy of studio 1896 -1927

Further details at: http://www.eventbrite.co.uk/o/leighton-house-museum-1156202155

Now go back and find the missing girl.

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