After years of dispute and deliberation Joseph Bazalgette (Chief Engineer of the Metropolitan Board of Works) was given a little short of carte blanche to reform London’s piecemeal drainage system, the clincher being the much documented ‘Great Stink‘ of 1858. Bazalgtte’s intercepting sewers constituted the lion’s share of the new main drainage works, with further improvements following their completion. On the north side of the Thames three west – east running sewers would receive content from London’s ancient valley lines, carrying the ill-scented flow out of the City to be discharged to the sea on the river’s ebb tide. The middle sewer of the three original interceptors runs for nine and a half miles, its dimensions for the first mile of this are a modest 4′ 6″ x 3′ and it’s along this stretch that the tale of our junction begins.

Pic. 1 – Ok. Somebody had better start explaining and fast!

Constructed c.1861 the first three quarters of a mile of the Middle Level Sewer No.1(MLS1) were run across farmland, though this was land being hastily encroached upon as middle-class suburbia steadily claimed ground. At the three quarter mile marker, where the tunnel first hit the streets, is where our junction begins. Beneath affluent avenues, lined with stucco fronted town houses, three distinct phases of work have formed a subterranean crossroads of intersecting arcs and impossible angles.

Fig. 1 – Phase one: Middle level sewer no.1 at Noting Hill, measuring 4′ 6″ x 3′ for the first mile of its course

Over the next forty years or so the city continued to grow and the area through which the first section of the MLS1 passed had become heavily urbanised, somewhat beyond forecasts. The increase in local sewer connections and paved surfaces had resulted in unacceptable instances of flooding during sustained or heavy rainfall. In 1904 the London County Council’s solution, under Chief Engineer Maurice Fitzmaurice, was the construction of a one and a quarter mile storm relief sewer, the North Kensington Relief(NKR). The new relief sewer would be the same dimensions for its entire length, a 5′ circular pipe, with a blue brick invert. At its upstream end overflow from the MLS1 would enter the relief via a small weir and tumbling bay. The overflow was conveyed south east to join the significantly larger Counters Creek Sewer at Holland Park Av.

Fig. 2 – Phase Two: The addition of Maurice Fitzmaurice’s North Kensington Relief Sewer.

Pic. 2 – The overflow point, from Middle Level to North Kensington Relief.

Pic. 3 – Looking roughly north up the NWSRS, with the NKR on the right.

Pic.2 above looks up the York stone steps of the tumbling bay, at the top of which the MLS1 is contained by a low dam board weir. The final phase of works in 1924 propelled what was an interesting drain junction to another level, it also propelled a whole host of filth beneath the streets of Notting Hill and Kensington. Three quarters of a mile north east of our junction, in Maida Vale, residents were more than a little perturbed by the frequent re-surfacing of an old Thames tributary, one of London’s infamous buried rivers. The river Westbourne, hereabouts channelled underground forming a major trunk sewer, was suffering similarly to the MLS1 twenty years previous. Massive urban development was threatening to rupture this main artery and send a pulsing river of feculence into homes and businesses. The London County Council’s solution? A three mile sub-city, brick beastie of a storm relief sewer, the North Western Storm Relief Sewer(NWSRS).

The course of NWSRS cuts directly across the NKR at three points, the first and most notable of these being right alongside the overflow point from the MLS1, as can be seen in Fig.3 below. This first junction of the two reliefs is of greater interest than the other two simply because of its associated features that are lacking elsewhere. The junction incorporates an access point, a distinct stepped increase in tunnel dimension, a tumbling bay that drops the NWSRS to a greater depth and oak dam boards on the intersected NKR. The most obvious difference between the NWSRS and the NKR is it’s size, varying between 7′ 6″ at its commencement to 9′ 6″ at its outfall. Its role was in fact to fulfil the function of the NKR as well as its primary relief function, leaving the older relief tunnel to act as an additional buffer during exceptional circumstances.

Fig. 3 – Phase Three: The NWSRS dissects the Kensington Relief Sewer.

Immediately downstream of this crossroads the NWSRS drops down a tumbling bay of twenty steps as it continues its journey south to its submerged outfall at the Thames. Fig.4 & 5 below show the locations of the photographs and hopefully help to clarify the relation between phases of work.

Fig. 4 – Photo markers and crossing point detail.

Fig. 5 – Photo markers and section E – E.

Below are the remaining images associated with the markers on Fig.4 & 5 which further illustrate the relationship between the various phases of work.

Pic. 4 – Oak dam boards and arcs.

Pic. 5 – Looking north at the crossing.

Pic. 6 – A parting shot. Please excuse the angle, I need a wider lens.

“What must my job be?!”

“I hope I get paid a lot for doing that!”

“Where is that anyway?”

Some of the more sensible questions I have often posed that my 13/14 year old self might have asked had I somehow had the opportunity to view third person video snippets (sans sound) of my current draining excursions, some twenty years prior. The scenes I imagine would prompt the most questions tend to be instances of entering/exiting manholes, particularly in obscure surrounds that my teenage counterpart wouldn’t be familiar with. I found myself running through these same imaginings just recently.

With both feet placed firmly on the same ladder rung, knees bent and my back jammed against the opposite wall, I was in position under a corroded manhole cover which looked as if it hadn’t moved for decades. Straightening up a little, a trial push delivered some movement and I shouted down to confirm that this would be our exit. I knew the approximate location at which we’d be re-joining London’s aboveground populous and we were credibly attired so there was no significant concern. A concerted effort to open the cover dislodged a cascade of ferrous metal pieces, many of which found their way down the back of my shirt and on to my clammy back, where they took up residence. Passing the point at which the cover needed any further assistance it dropped backwards on its hinges and I proceeded to climb the last few rungs of the ladder.

Hopping out of the shaft and on to the grass in a bustling public park, we were surrounded by picnicking families and sunbathing couples, while a whole host of sports and games went on about us; it’s usual to expect a few heads to turn when a filthy, sweaty workman unexpectedly appears from a manhole cover that nobody had even noticed previously. While I stood atop the open cover Metawaffle swiftly ascended the ladder into the glorious early evening sun. The presence of two filthy, sweaty workmen had now increased the head count of curious onlookers. A deft foot to the cover saw it slam shut, momentarily turning a further few heads, and we walked casually into the multitudes, quietly discussing our past few hours of underground adventuring.

For those who still looked on, as we disappeared from sight, our unexpected exit most likely raised questions comparable to those of my future gazing teen self, as we all viewed the semblance of a life to which we immediately attributed our own context.

When a fellow underground aficionado first ventured into a London sewer his planned journey began in St. John’s Wood, in an unremarkable section of the King’s Scholars’ Pond Sewer (K.S.P.S.). Unremarkable as it was the 5.5ft x 3.5ft egg shaped sewer bombarded John with curious new sights, sounds and smells. He later remarked “There is a fatal fascination about sewers, and whenever an entrance is opened, a crowd is sure to gather . .” (Hollingshead, John. Underground London. 1862).

Pic. 1 – The junction as seen in 2010, looking downstream to the inspection gallery.

The same section of tunnel where John Hollingshead began his virgin sewer expedition in 1860 has seen considerable alteration over the past 150 years; in 2010 there’s certainly more to remark upon, and more so to bombard the senses. This short text goes some way to unravelling a complex and compact sewer junction. The K.S.P.S. runs for approx. five miles in a south-easterly direction from Hampstead to the Thames. Located within the most northerly portion of this five mile run, the section we’re looking at did not receive any attention during the groundbreaking overhaul of London’s Main Drainage, under Joseph Bazalgette, Chief Engineer of the Metropolitan Board of Works. For an eighty five year period, from it’s construction c.1825 (Fig.1) to the construction of the London County Council’s Middle Level Sewer No.2 (Fig.2) in 1910, it remained unaltered. The timing of Hollingshead’s visit did in fact mean he travelled the entire route of the K.S.P.S. prior to any of Bazalgette’s major alteration works.

Fig. 1 – The original sewer tunnel pre alterations.

Fig. 2 – 1910 interceptor works creating the first phase of the junction.

The connection to the MID LVL SWR No.2 was the first stage of works forming the basis of the junction as it appears today. This first junction was a relatively simple set up where dam boards were installed in the K.S.P.S. tunnel immediately downstream of a new connection which diverted the sewage flow into a circular brick pipe measuring 5.6ft in diameter. The diversion pipe dropped the flow down a series of steps (Tumbling bay) to the intercepting sewer passing beneath the K.S.P.S., as seen in Fig.2.

Fig. 3 – 1940s Penstock works.

Fig. 4 – 1980s works, being the last to date.

A further thirty years passed with no works in the immediate vicinity of the junction, then in 1940 a penstock chamber was built on the downstream side of the dam boards. This allowed the K.S.P.S. tunnel to be entirely sealed off no matter what the volume of flow, diverting all its content into the intercepting sewer. The new penstock could be operated from street level via a manual gear mechanism. Also at this time a new local sewer was connected to the K.S.P.S. at the same juncture, see Fig.3 above.

Fig. 5 – Plan detail of the junction as it exists today, with markers for photo positions.

The final phase of works that created the junction as it exists today seems to have removed almost as much as it added, and oddly appears to have been something of a step backwards in some ways. c.1980 an inspection gallery, at about 10ft above the junction invert, was installed. The extension upwards, to the new gallery, of the original dam board chase(s) allowed boards to be manually inserted from above to completely seal off either the K.S.P.S. or the diverting pipe to the MID LVL SWR No.2 (see Fig.5 above). The 1940s penstock was then removed in favour of this seemingly more arduous option.

Pic. 2 – Looking upstream. Note dam board chase in foreground.

With its various phases of work this junction chamber is certainly an interesting place to photograph and was an unexpected and pleasant surprise on our first journey through this section of tunnel. No doubt Mr. Hollingshead was with us in spirit.

This was only the second occasion that myself and st00p had entered one of London’s combined trunk sewers, and it was the first occasion for our Australian compadre Siologen. So there we were, stood within the confines of London’s most notorious sewer, the Fleet, all feeling decidedly underwhelmed. Sure it was a huge brick tunnel and we’d lucked out to hit the main pipe just after an intercepting weir (which meant very little flow, other than that spewing from our access route) but this couldn’t be the ‘River’ Fleet? This place bore absolutely no likeness to the glorious sparkling waterway of our imaginings. Alas, we’d been more than a little naive. By now the whole ordeal had been comparable in disappointment to my chagrin at Kellogg’s decision to withdraw Cinnamon Pop Tarts from the UK breakfast market. Any how, even in our disgruntled states we weren’t so deflated as to pass up the chance to explore our immediate surrounds. A quick flash of the torches downstream revealed infinite tunnel, while immediately upstream was the afore mentioned intercepting weir.

Taking a look at the weir, there was no doubt that venturing upstream of this point was not an option. The flow beyond it was ferocious; a swirling, bubbling, choppy poop soup of unknown depth and unfathomable raging force. Battling our collective misery I had mustered the enthusiasm to take my camera from its bag when st00p got my attention by way of a sharp dig in the ribs. I swiftly pulled my gaze from the bag and on to him, to see his squinting face recoil at the blinding light from my headtorch. Diverting the torch light I looked back to see st00p had already moved away from me and was furiously gesturing upstream, but saying nothing at all. “Wh . . .?“, I had barely spoken half a word when I too was struck silent at the sight that had prompted st00p’s bruise inducing intercostal poke. Way off up the tunnel, being washed by the tumultuous waters, was an almost ninety degree bend, now visible where before there had been nothing but darkness. The light from what appeared to be several super luminous sources was bouncing off the walls, almost dissipating the heavy vaporous air as the beams danced erratically side to side, occasionally catching the crests of the unforgiving flow.

Someone was coming our way! Whoever it was hadn’t yet rounded the corner, we glanced at each other and scrambled for the broadband ducting, clumsily we dragged ourselves back up into the side pipe with ten times the haste by which we’d descended. Turning off our lights we crouched, with hearts thumping, and waited for whoever it was to make the corner. I took a sneaky glance back up the main tunnel. The glare of the approaching lights made it impossible to see anything beyond them, but they were round the corner and heading our way! We’d never encountered sewer workers before, I couldn’t imagine that it could have been anyone else. For one thing how the hell were they traversing the flow beyond the weir, other than with the aid of specialised equipment? Perhaps some sort of mechanised transport? All sorts of fanciful notions ran through my head. And those lights, super bright white (light), cutting endless beams through the darkness, superior to anything we were packing. Mere seconds had passed as my thoughts raced when came a sharp hissing whisper in my ear, as urgent as a whisper can be, the unmistakable antipodean tones of Siologen, “JD! JD! Who is it? What did you see?“.

“I couldn’t see anything past the lights“, I whispered back into the darkness, “but we need to get out of sight. They’re still coming this way.” Feeling the walls, we headed back thirty yards or so to a bend, I’ve never been quite so happy that I remembered the latex gloves! A quick flash of the torch confirmed that we weren’t in the line of fire of a projectile sewer and we settled in to silently wait for the workers to pass. Our new location was out of view of the main tunnel but offered the option of a glance around the bend should we need it. We were confident that our voices couldn’t be heard over the noise of the outfalling branch sewer, so while I watched the dimly glistening brickwork get ever brighter, st00p and Siologen thrashed out the pros and cons of various plans of action. For a moment there was calm, as if within the course of only fifty seconds a routine had been established, distracting us from our circumstances. However, as quickly as the calm had settled it was broken by the sound of muffled voices. Our hearts almost stopped and we fell silent, realising that if we could hear them then perhaps they had heard us? Their conversation was indistinguishable above the crashing water, but at times it almost sounded like congratulatory whooping and cheering. Whatever the case, these were definitely the voices of a number of men, and men who seemed very well at ease with their surroundings.

“Must be Thames Water.” I whispered, hoping someone’s ear was in the vicinity. For as much as I dared not give us away, I had to take a look. Now, there’s not really an effective method of peering out from a corner. Sure you can do it very slowly to avoid drawing attention with any sudden movement, but essentially you’re sticking your head out there to be seen. With this in mind I thought ‘what the hey’ and popped my head out, and it was at this point that Pascal decided to call in our previous good fortune at having avoided faces full of bowl fresh feculence. I find it best suits the scene that followed to recollect it in super slow motion, accompanied by Bach’s Air on a G string. My head emerges from the bend just as one of the workers turned in perfect synchronicity and shone his light up the branch sewer and on to my pasty white face which, much like st00p’s only minutes earlier, recoiled with eyes squinting from temporary blindness. Of course the entire incident played out within a fraction of a second and no sooner had my head been stuck out there like a lighthouse lamp than I was back out of sight, crouched with the other two. The damage was done though, probability had its pound of flesh; I absolutely must have been seen! We each held our breath, frozen to the spot, waiting for the sound of splashing footsteps heading our way, not wanting to start our frantic stooping race to the exit until there was no doubt that we had been detected.

We waited, chests tightening for fear that our combined exhalation would be sufficient a sound to draw attention to us, but the footsteps never came. Not only that, but the little ambient light there had been from the workers torches had all but vanished, and we could barely hear the mumbles of their boisterous conversation. They were leaving!? Stupefied we all looked out from our hiding spot, they really were leaving! This was ridiculous, I felt certain that I’d been seen, yet there they were leaving. We shuffled gingerly back to the main tunnel and spied out, downstream. Previously their lights had hindered me from getting any sight of them, but now the opposite was the case as we watched three silhouetted workers heading off, looking decidedly Close Encounters-esq.

Common sense would have had us count ourselves more than fortunate at this juncture and propose that we depart the scene, bemused, but somehow undiscovered. Common sense however seemed to be about as present as the sparkling waters of the buried river Fleet and thus we decided to wait it out, to see the workers out of sight. We didn’t have to wait long. Still in view, they had halted mid tunnel and we watched as one by one they stepped out of sight, not at all as we’d expected. We’d been holding our tongues for nigh on ten minutes now and this further unforeseen event broke the self imposed hush. “Where’d they go?” Siologen asked in a low voice, “They must have gone up a side tunnel, or a manhole.” replied st00p. We knew though that there were no manholes giving access into this section of tunnel, we’d checked thoroughly, so they must have set off up a side tunnel. If the days events had been bordering on ridiculous they rapidly descended in to lunacy as st00p, impetuous as he is, decided he had to see where they had headed.

Before either of us could argue against the idea, st00p was in the main tunnel, torch on, heading downstream. One thing’s for sure, playing C-3PO to st00p’s R2 is never dull; we weren’t about to let him run in to workers alone and for all our efforts to remain undetected we clambered down and joined him, marching down the tunnel, expecting the worst. I recalled, as we walked, the fact that these workers had somehow traversed the impassable water beyond the weir. They hadn’t appeared to have any equipment beyond that which was about their person, so how had they managed such a task? I am Jack’s utter sense of bewilderment! We walked on.

Walking along, your mind tends to wander. I often get a sense of being out of time; that which governs life aboveground is rendered obsolete in an environment where it is neither night nor day. It’s not so much that you lose track of time as it is a sensation of losing it entirely; consequently as we neared upon the side pipe, much sooner than anticipated, we weren’t at all surprised. Closer inspection of the workers’ exit point revealed that it wasn’t a side pipe at all, rather an access passageway. We’d been so certain that there wasn’t any manhole access into this stretch of tunnel, we’d checked aboveground, how could we have missed that? Yet another incident that highlighted their knowledge over ours.

The passageway’s junction with the main tunnel formed an arc from crown to invert. Edged with blue bricks, it was washed with a soft sulfurous glow, casting an oblong window of similarly orangey light on to the opposite tunnel wall. We were again close enough to hear the mumbles of conversation, closer even as we could almost pick out words now. Having turned out or lights we paused, a little apprehensive; bathed in the tangerine glow we each looked to the other, acknowledging the fact that we were no doubt about to get busted. In all but the same steps as we had watched taken minutes earlier, we too stepped into the passageway, just in time to see the last of the workers deftly climbing the ten foot ladder up to an open manhole. A wide grin crept across my face, the guy was on the ladder with his back to us, street light was flooding down, as he climbed up to join his colleagues, completely unaware of our presence behind him. Voyeurism is not on my list of favoured pastimes, but it was an oddly satisfying encounter.

The cold night air was being drawn into the passageway via the open manhole and we stood goose bumped and galvanised just feet from discovery. The cover also allowed the noise of life aboveground to reach our ears, mostly traffic, which amalgamated with the sounds of crashing water and made it more difficult still to hear any conversation. Considering the trip we’d had, we wagered there was really no way on, or under, earth that Lady Luck was about to see us get apprehended and so we took a few steps closer to the manhole in the hope of a little audible clarity. For the first time we were now close enough to properly hear, but, as if subconsciously aware of our eavesdropping, noone was talking. BANG! From nowhere a hefty looking industrial wader kicked the open cover, as a pair of disposable gloves were thrown back down the shaft. We took care to stay from view, and observed as each kick to the unyielding cover only inched it closed. Every blow unleashed a great creaking yelp, as if kicking a cowering dog, as metal grated on metal. And with every blow our permatan glow was diminished a little more. There we were, stood within the confines of London’s most notorious sewer, the Fleet, grinning inanely, all feeling decidedly overwhelmed. The last vestiges of street light were about to be banished from the passageway when there came a shout from above, a voice with an unmistakable antipodean tone “JD!! You shoulda made ‘im close the farkin’ cover, he never closes ‘em, lazy barrstard.”

PHWUMP!!

Darkness.

Pic. 1 – Megatron, River sheaf, Sheffield.

Pic. 2 – Flushed Away, Overflow chamber, Macclesfield.

While I haven’t been back as often as I would have liked, I have made several pilgrimages to the culverts of my youth. This post isn’t an exposé of what the north has to offer; it’s merely a selection of images from some of those various trips. I’m keen to not make a habit of publishing great loads of images with little or no context, but I’m not entirely opposed to populating the odd post or two with a bunch of silhouette peppered pictures when I haven’t the time or inclination to spend slaving over a keyboard. These images span a period of six years or so, from 2004 – present, and represent a small portion of the great bounty of the north.

Pic. 3 – Crystal Phallus, Hockley Brook, Birmingham.

Pic. 4 – Gorton Falls, Gorton Brook, Manchester.

Pic. 5 – The Processor, Moston Brook, Manchester.

Pic. 6 – Bunker Drain, Warrington.

Pic. 7 – Pay Dirt, Manchester.

Pic. 8 – Kinder Surprise, Ford Green Brook, Stoke.

Pic. 9 – STD, Plumpton Clough Brook, Chadderton.

Pic. 10 – Redbarn, Wince Brook, Chadderton.

Pic. 11 – Lock Stock, Relief Sewer, Manchester.

Pic. 12 – Sirenity, Bilston Brook, Wolverhampton.

Pic. 13 – The Works, River Irk, Manchester.

Urbanunderworld.co.uk was among the first, if not the first, UK website with a majority proportion of its content dedicated to drain exploration. Having been online since 2002 under the urbanunderworld domain, and for a year or so previous to that on free hosting, the site had not been much updated since the end of 2006 and went offline at the end of 2008. Over the lifetime of the domain the exploring duo of Drainrat & Oggy furnished urbanunderworld with its wondrous content, and the importance of their contribution to an activity we enjoy so much should not to be forgotten! Not least for the fact that they continue to explore underground, but do so in a more private manner.

Pic. 1 – urbanunderworld.co.uk version 1.0.

Pic. 2 – urbanunderworld.co.uk version 2.0.

Drainrat & Oggy would agree that their greatest legacy is the discovery, exploration and documentation of the gargantuan storm drain which they dubbed ‘Bunker’. A mighty concrete beast, bristling with features and of spectacular scale, Bunker set the standard for modern UK storm drainage and has yet to be surpassed. Noted among the worlds finest drains by the much travelled Siologen, it is something of a rite of passage for UK drainers. In recent years Bunker’s increased internet exposure has also meant it has become popular outside of draining circles, with explorers of the more shotgun and bed-post persuasion. As well as Bunker the duo also uncovered and rightfully named other major drains across the country, drains which maintain their position as staple constituents on the list of must see UK sites. First in to Birmingham they brought us Moonwalker, Baptizer and Mistaken Identity. Breaking virgin ground again in Leeds, they uncovered Masticator and cyclops, and in Bristol their persistence paid off when they finally cracked the mighty Dreadnought. Closer to home in Manchester Oggy temporarily overcame his sewerphobia venturing into SSSI.

Drainrat was the driving force behind urbanunderworld, being from an engineering background, draining mixed his passion for underground spaces and large scale engineering with the edge of excitement and adventure that he also pursued in other activities outside of draining. He was also responsible for publishing their stories and findings online. The urbanunderworld website had two incarnations during its lifetime. In 2003 a Google search for ‘UK drain exploring’ returned few relevant results, atop the list, version1.0 of urbanunderworld provided burgeoning drain explorers with the confirmation that they were not alone in their peculiar pursuit. At that time the adult phase of my drain exploring life had seen few drains of great merit and I recall taking the photographic tour through Bunker, which featured on urbanunderworld, with eyes transfixed and mouth agape. Inspired by the website I set to work creating an interweb home from where to share our own drain adventures. Version 2.0 of urbanunderworld was a cosmetic make-over, while the ever expanding content remained as clear and accessible as always.

The other half of the urbanunderworld duo, Oggy, was a quietly confident and unassuming explorer who knew exactly what he did and did not like! What he did not like was sewage, sewers and anything pertaining to poop, he was always vehement in his aversion to such things. Always rocking the brightest of blue coats Oggy was the Dr.Watson to Drainrat’s Sherlock Holmes, a thoroughly pleasant guy and a great pleasure to explore with.

Pic. 3 – Drainrat (right) & Oggy (left) – Urban Underworld.

The departure of such a significant website deserves a tip of the hat in recognition for its role in forming UK drain exploration as we know it. Sure, drain exploration in the UK did not start with urbanunderworld, and it will not end with it, but it certainly would have been quite different without it. When I realised that the site was offline several thoughts came to mind, beyond the initial that sucks, firstly a eulogy was clearly required. I’d like to have been able to archive the site in some form, as Simon Cornwell has done with one of the earliest UK UE websites here. Unfortunately I have neither the time or resources and so for as long as some information is available we’ll have to make do with those pages indexed on the web archive here. For now the domain is being re-directed to this tribute page, so at least those seeking drains or following links to urbanunderworld will reach some relevant content. Should Drainrat decide one day that he’d like to take up the urbanunderworld mantle once more, then I’ll most gladly pass control of the domain back to where it rightly should be. Drainrat & Oggy, we salute you!

- noun
• the exploration of underground man-made drainage systems.

This text is not a three step guide to better draining. It is not a fast track to drain exploring knowledge, whilst by-passing drain exploring experience. It is most certainly not a text that will equip you to explore drains. So. Now we’ve firmly established what this is not, what exactly is it? What it is, is some common sense information, served with some hard facts in order to properly portray the very real dangers of exploring drains. If you’re even slightly contemplating exploring drains and you also value your life then please take the time to thoroughly read Predator’s Approach Doc. The .doc is written with Australian drains in mind, though much of the info is transferable, and although it is quite some years old now it is still the most comprehensive resource of it’s kind available online.

When it comes to drain exploring there’s one factor that is frequently overlooked, 99% of drains are active/operational environments. In a system that is largely automated and still functioning to fulfil its purpose, the presence of unauthorised visitors is not something that is equated into operational procedures. In short there are many potentially life threatening dangers in drains that are entirely beyond the control of any clandestine tourist and entirely outside an explorers ability to reasonably calculate for, consequently complacency is never an option!

In way of a little education to highlight some of the risks involved let’s very briefly break UK draining down into its rudimentary groupings. There are roughly three degrees of separation when it comes to explorable drains:

1. The Culvert / Underground Watercourse.

Where a formerly aboveground watercourse has been channelled underground through a conduit, most often in order to make use of the newly created land above. Quite often surface water drainage from the newly created land will be connected to the culvert, giving it a secondary function of draining surface water run-off, but primarily it exists to convey the watercourse underground. By its nature a culvert will feature an infall (upstream) and outfall (downstream) structure, depending upon its length it may also feature manhole access shafts along its underground course. It is not uncommon for Combined Sewers(see below) in close proximity to a culvert to have an overflow within the culvert, conveniently out of the gaze of the general public. To avoid the sewer becoming surcharged these Combined Sewer Overflows(CSO) are situated to allow an amount of flow from the sewer to discharge into the culverted watercourse during times of excessive rainfall. CSOs usually discharge via a screened overflow to prevent solid waste from entering the natural watercourse. Culverts are often mistakenly considered to be at the more recreational end of the draining spectrum. The risks in culverts are as plentiful as in any other underground drainage system and they should be approached with the exact same caution.

Pic. 1 – Baptiser culvert, Hockley Brook, Birmingham.

2. The Storm Drain / Storm Storage Tank / Storm Storage Tunnel.

Of course the name proclaims the function of these three common methods used to deal with sudden increases in water volumes due to excessive rainfall. The name should also sound alarm bells to anyone considering exploring such a facility, these places exists solely to channel or store huge volumes of water! These three variations on storm flow management are not exclusive of one another. The term ‘storm flow’ for the purpose of this text covers overflow from combined sewer systems and the surface water run-off of separate systems.

= Storm Drains =

Storm drains come in two basic flavours and both exist solely to deal with excessive flow during high rainfall conditions, thus during dry-weather conditions they will have little to no content.

Flavour number one is the Storm Relief Sewer, aka Storm Reliefs and Storm Sewers. In conjunction with a Combined Sewer System(see below) the Storm Relief Sewer provides extra capacity during storm conditions. A Storm Relief Sewer deals with its content by one, or all three, of the following: conveying the flow to a storage tank/tunnel(see below) from where it will be later pumped back into the system; channelling its flow back into the combined system at a point where it has a greater capacity; having an overflow outfall (CSO) on a local watercourse. It’s not uncommon for a Storm Relief Sewer to employ all three methods in that order of precedence.

Flavour number two is the Storm Water Drain, sometimes confusingly referred to as just Storm Drains and Storm Sewers, these are essentially a system of underground pipes whose collective function is to take only storm water run-off enabling it to be discharged directly into local watercourses with no adverse effect. Storm Relief Sewers and Storm Water Drains are usually contained systems, only being accessible via manholes or other similar access portals. Of course Storm Water Drains may feature an outfall structure but most are secured to restrict access for safety reasons, effectively creating a contained system. With a set up of this nature there can be an increased risk of air quality issues due to reduced airflow/ventilation. This can be further compounded in some Storm Drains by the presence of decaying organic matter in standing water deposited during the last storm event. There is a school of thought that suggests a contained system presents an increased risk of drowning in the event of a storm surge event, being as there is no outfall to we washed to. In reality the increased risk is minimal as the chances of being washed any distance in an open system without sustaining major injury or loosing your life before you reach the outfall is slim.

Pic. 2 – Bunker storm drain, Warrington.

= Storm Storage Tanks =

Storm storage tanks are most often used on a Combined Sewer System(see below) to provide increased capacity during higher than average rainfall conditions, to prevent sewage overflows into local watercourses, which would normally be a last resort. They come in all manner of shapes, sizes and configurations both vertical and horizontal. They may exist along the line of a Storm Relief Sewer, but could equally be an isolated storage tank or series of tanks joined to the Combined Sewer System via an overflow weir. Once the combined sewer levels have receded post-rainfall the storage tank(s) content is pumped back into the system at a regulated rate.

= Storm Storage Tunnels =

Storm storage tunnels are the natural progression from storage tanks where an even greater storage capacity is required and storage tanks of the equivalent capacity would not be financially viable or would be unachievable. As with storage tanks they may be connected to a Storm Relief Sewer or may be connected directly to the Combined Sewer System via an overflow.

Pic. 3 – C.O.T.S. storm storage tunnel, Brighton.

3. The Combined Sewer.

Considered by many to be a much more inhospitable exploration environment, largely due to the increased risks stemming from the greater levels of bacterial contamination and the presence of decaying organic matter resulting in increased potential for air quality issues. The Combined Sewer System is exactly as its name suggests, a drainage system built to deal with a combined flow comprised of:

Surface Water Run-off: street level rainwater drainage.
Foul Water(Brown/Black Water): waste-water with a high concentration of biological (faecal matter and urine) or chemical contamination, both domestic and industrial.
Grey Water: waste-water with a low concentration of biological or chemical contamination, generated from processes such as washing up and bathing.

Combined Sewers, like Storm Drains, are contained systems that generally do not have an infall or outfall. Small conduits feed from households, businesses and street drains into increasingly larger pipes conveying the flow to a treatment works where the contaminants are removed rendering the resulting liquids and solids suitable for discharge to the environment or re-use.

Pic. 4 – The Fleet Sewer, London.

The risks of drain exploration are many and are often entirely outside of an individuals control. Many people who explore drains do so with the assistance of specialised safety equipment, from Gas Monitors and Emergency Breathing Apparatus to Intrinsically safe lighting. Sticking on a pair of Wellington boots, grabbing a torch and heading into a drain for the first time is a recipe for disaster.

The decision to explore drains lies firmly with each individual and with that decision comes the responsibility for yourself and your actions, you have taken the decision and you are responsible!

Pic.1 – The upstream weir, beyond which was previously unexplored.

I’ve always been curious about the upstream reaches of the Fleet Sewer and what they might hold. The northern course of the river was covered over sporadically, sections at a time, across a span of approx one hundred years between 1770 – 1870 and has never been entirely renewed. Before us was the prospect of a piecemeal melting pot of construction, garnished with the added flavours of various major works; works ranging from connection to the new middle level #2 intercepting sewer c.1909, to diversion and modification of the sewer during the channel tunnel rail link project of 2004. Of course these and other projects would have replaced earlier construction, but they hopefully would have added more than they took away.

On the first of two trips to the untravelled upstream reaches we traversed all but the last 170yds of the two and a half mile section. On this trip we had in mind that we’d just explore in the first instance, coming back to take photographs on other occasions. Post upstream trip number one, having assessed the extent of what was there, we decided to break it into thirds and make return trips to each of these sections for photographic purposes. Part I of III was to the mid section, that passes roughly beneath St.Pancras and King’s Cross stations.

On a particularly unremarkable street, a little way north-east of St.Pancras station, we donned our default sewer operative regalia. Setting up shop around a pre-determined manhole cover we slipped off the street, out of the crisp night air and into something altogether more miasmic. As the cover thudded shut above, perched on the ladder of the manhole shaft, I flicked the switch on my head torch. Its light cut a wide beam through the aqueous vapour that hung heavy in the air, vapour that quickly took advantage of the cold lenses of my glasses to return to its former state. Stepping off the ladder the familiar sweet fetid fragrance of a thousand toilets, washing machines, bath tubs and kitchen sinks filled my nostrils in way of a firm nasal handshake, ” Welcome back“.

Pic.2 – Our upstream start point, note the condensation a la 1970s soft focus.

The above image is looking northward, the sewer’s flow is sent in an easterly direction down into the Mid Level #2 Interceptor. This connection would have been constructed between 1906 – 1911, the section of sewer itself was one of the later upstream stretches to be built (c.1850) diverting the river’s flow off its meandering course 80yds to the east of the present sewer.

Having pre-planned our exit point and suitably fortified it in preparation for our emergence, the route before us was set and our goal was simply to get some photographs. My goal was slightly more particular, being to get some photographs and break the photographic drought that had blighted my drain trips over the past three months or so. I wasn’t encouraged by the first picture I took (above) as my lens packs more glass than the downstream broadband ducting and was presenting ample surface area for much condensing. I wiped the lens and rushed to take a picture before the haze returned, I can conclude that my camera LCD screen lies. While not being a remarkable picture it is just fine as far as I care, but the LCD preview suggested otherwise and squinting in its deceptive glare with the sounds of swirling and crashing water reverberating in my ears the drought threatened to continue.

We set off downstream. At this point immediately post intercepting weir the water flow in the sewer was fairly minimal, just a couple of centimetres deep and perhaps twenty centimetres or so in width. The lack of water should have made for less effort on the walking front, in this case however the invert of the brick pipe was so slippery that walking/sliding had to be undertaken at a slow and steady pace. A downside to the lack of liquid content was the constant reminders that this was no longer the sparkling river of wells from days gone by. Along the edge of the flow, small families of swollen sanitary mice gathered around hulking lumps of fissured faecal debris, their blood stained bodies bathed in the vile yellow-brown run-off while their twisted cotton tails flailed in the water which threatened to pluck them off the sidelines. As we passed by, the wash from our movement sent many such a gathering into the water and away down the tunnel ahead of us. Of course we’re always well aware of the content of the sewers through which we travel, but the usual ninety five percent water to solids ratio keeps it from your mind, less the occasional floater and the unavoidable toilet paper on your tripod legs. Soon enough ignorance was restored as side pipes and branch sewers gushed worth and we sloshed merrily onwards through the widening pea green river.

Pic.3 – Looking northwards in the 1850s tunnel, back to where we had come from.

Whilst taking the above picture I had to rebuff the unsolicited advances of Otter Zero, he attentively watched me setting up the mini-flouro lights until the moment got the better of him and he blurted out “Do you want me to get my big one out?“. A response was required to make clear that this was not acceptable drain conduct and any graduate of the school of Mayall and Edmondson would have replied likewise “What? . . . here in the sewers?” Said I. Following a little eye rolling and much grinning on my part, having got our picture we packed up the bags and continued on our way.

Immediately it was noted that the pipe had changed, the somewhat less refined looking masonry that now encircled us was fifty years senior to the section we had started out in. Contrary to layman assumption Bazalgette did not mastermind an entire new drainage system for the Metropolis, rather he worked with what was already in place. Approx two thirds of the Fleet Sewer’s underground length existed previous to the implementation of Bazalgette’s improved scheme for London’s drainage and much of this pre-established infrastructure was retained and modified to tie in with the new system. Visionary though Bazalgette was, he was not ‘the man who built the first London sewer‘ as I read attributed to him in an article recently. He was in fact not the first person to propose an intercepting sewer system for London, but I digress.

Our next significant photo stop was a couple of spots along the diversion works of 2004, undertaken during the St.Pancras channel tunnel rail link project. I hadn’t been aware of the diversion until our collective torch light hit on a concrete box section up ahead. Whilst not lengthy it had a couple of features worth noting and was a welcome relief under foot as the floor surface was rather less lubricated. For most of its length it’s a 7ft rcp with a couple of sharp bends formed of box section. On one bend was a curious side pipe that turned out to be a manhole access passageway, but a rather oddly formed one being a sort of squashed oval turned on its head.

The other notable feature on the course of the diversion is a new weir chamber. Any overflow from the chamber is sent down a short section of 5ft rcp from where it drops 20ft into a plunge pool, continuing into another stretch of rcp and eventually into the victorian Fleet Storm Relief Sewer.

Pic.4 – 2004 overflow weir chamber, connecting with the Fleet storm relief.

In Nicholas Barton’s The Lost Rivers Of London he states that the Fleet Sewer incorporates the bridge, of erroneous Boadicea legend, that spanned the River Fleet at Battlebridge. I was pretty keen to confirm or deny this. Having spent so long underground on our first trip we slightly lost track of where we were in relation to aboveground landmarks. I had initially thought that a curious feature we came across might be remnants of the Battle Bridge. The feature in question was a series of four arched apertures along one side of the tunnel, with dressed stone sills, where the openings had been later bricked up with rather less finesse than the surrounding workmanship. Unfortunately the spot was not only too far upstream to be associated with the bridge but the construction was inconsistent with records of the bridge and not contemporary with the period of its construction. Fail!

The Other likely candidate was a wide arched section of sewer, wider than the surrounding construction and showing signs of having been built into the tunnel. It has since been brought to light that this section, although in the correct approx location, can also be ruled out as a Battle Bridge candidate, although it is a bridge of sorts. This heavily braced section of the Fleet Sewer was modified during construction of a public foot subway, as part of the King’s Cross station works in 1891. The original invert was left in place and fitted out with a wider upper section of cast iron, bolted through stone sills. Along this stretch of the Fleet sewer it provides the organic filler for a cut and cover sandwich, as on both sides it is flanked by tunnels of similar dimension, one carrying water mains, the other gas and telecoms.

Pic.5 – The braced subway section, mid ground.

Pic.6 – Cross section of the subway bracing work.

Walking on in single file as the repeating patterns of bricks and mortar cycle across your retinas, while your ears abound with watery acoustic anomalies, it’s not uncommon to experience the odd momentary lapse of focus. Should any such lapse of focus coincide with submerged debris then the result may be a scene of comedy flailing arms scrambling for purchase, eventually plunging hands first into poop soup up to the elbow to stabilise yourself, yes I got wet. The Fleet Sewer was really out to give someone a proper soaking that night, and having tasted the arms of Doe it seemed that only I would suffice. A while later I was saved from the path of a full on baptism of mire by the chance actions of the Otter.

Pic.7 – The Otter hole, the side pipe up which he scurried.

If there’s one thing the Otter doesn’t much seem to cherish it’s venturing up small pipes, to define small in the world of the Otter, bending his neck past a forty five degree angle seems to qualify. Consequently, when I looked over my shoulder just in time to catch a glimpse of his velvety tail vanishing up a barely four foot rcp, I was surprised. We followed to see what might have caught his eye or indeed his nose. The air in the side pipe was notably fresher and cooler, the little water that there was seemed to be run-off or at the least it was much less unsavoury than elsewhere. We didn’t hang around long, the rcp junctioned with other similar sized pipes and a flash of the torch revealed that they in turn junctioned with others, that junctioned with others and so on and so forth. It was a maze of stoopage and I think it was me who suggested that we get back to the relative comfort of the main tunnel. I was still a little perplexed at the Otters sudden side pipe scurry, but ready to push on to our next major point of interest. Heading up the group I had advanced all of a couple of feet when a horrendous sound blasted up the tunnel and almost caused all three of us to directly contribute to the sewers content. With dilated pupils and thumping hearts came the realisation that timing had briefly absconded from its comedic bedfellow and nestled up with an Otter. Twenty foot ahead of me a three foot pipe, entering the main tunnel at around head height, had erupted and was projecting a wall of foaming grey-green water across the width of the tunnel. The force of it would have not only knocked me off my feet but pinned me down while it pelted all manner of nastiness at me. Had we not deviated very briefly I’d have been right about in front of the pipe as it let rip, Otterly delivered.

Pic.8 – One of three points where the main line passes beneath rail tunnels.

Following the sudden torrent of water a hell of a stink had been kicked up, I was poised for the piercing tones of the gas detector to ring out, but they never did. The water’s surface now looked like a brew that even the hardiest of cup wielding girl duos might refuse to partake of, a bubbling, oil slicked, swirling sebaceous smeg fest which for a little while kept pace with us and threatened to taint the rest of the journey with the ‘smell of arse‘, as the Otter put it. I guess there’s no valid grounds for complaining about the smell whilst exploring sanitary sewers?

The final feature to be committed to pixels was one that gave us some answers and gave the Fleet another opportunity to better acquaint itself with me. The bricked up arches we had witnessed upstream would have served as an overflow in to the Fleet Storm Relief Sewer, built in 1875. We know now because of the unmolested instance located downstream. It’s a set up that I haven’t quite seen the like of before, often overflows of this era are rather obvious affairs and seemingly over engineered. This set up is very elegant in its simplicity, four arched apertures in the main tunnel lead through to an inclined spillway which leads down to a dropshaft on the storm relief sewer. We set about getting some photographs. I still wasn’t confident that I’d captured much of merit, but I was happy enough that I’d got some images to illustrate a text. In way of providing a stage for the next set of events here’s a picture of the spillway.

Pic.9 – Looking to the dropshaft, from a mid way point on the overflow spillway.

Standing on the spillway I decided that I’d taken all the pictures I wanted for the evening and I packed up my gear while the Otter, stood alongside me, continued to take photographs. It was an interesting space and I was quite happy just gazing at the sea of yellow bricks. Teh Architect was in the main sewer tunnel doing a sterling job of assisting Otter in the lighting department and being as this was only his second time in a drain, let alone a sewer, I was occasionally checking in with him. Moments previous to packing up my stuff, Otter had given us a scare when he thought somebody was opening the cover that drops into the overflow chamber. As it turned out it was a family of rats busily clattering about, but it made for a prolonged moment of tense silence. Off the back of that, gear packed up, knowing we were all but done for the night, I indulged my thoughts of post-draining Monster Munch and blue Powerade which awaited me at the car.

Pic.10 – From the main tunnel, looking north, the overflow arches to the spillway.

Whilst my mouth was still salivating from the thought of Flamin’ Hot flavours there came the sound that no drainer ever wants to hear. Starting as a low rumble I dismissed it as another of many trains we’d been hearing throughout the evening. My attention was drawn back however as not only had the sound persisted, but it had definitely increased in volume. I turned and looked to Otter who by now had also realised that something was amiss and was looking over to me with a similarly concerned expression. We both looked up to Teh Architect who was still in the main tunnel, his face bore a look of confusion more than concern, which he later explained was because he wasn’t really sure what was occurring. A sound that had taken a while to build had now got alarmingly loud, “Get your arse down here now” we both shouted up to him. We weren’t about to hang around to see what was heading our way. Otter stuffed his gear in his bag while I rushed to see that Teh Architect had got down ok. In his rush to get to us, and with my head being one step ahead of my body, I managed to get a sweeping great face full of the Fleet as his wader swung onto the ladder, Fleet Sewer 2 – Jondoe 0. The cover was right by us and we were all but on the ladder when the thunderous sounds of water very suddenly died to a low rumble, we hesitated. Popping a cover in close quarters to Kings Cross station wasn’t part of our plan for the evening and was something best avoided. Of course the same could be said for drowning in a tsunami of sewage. Tentatively we peered back into the chamber, the flow in the main tunnel hadn’t altered and the rumbling had lessened still. Walking over to the dropshaft we peered down to see that the storm relief sewer at the bottom, which had previously been dry, was now flowing with a reasonable amount of water. So it hadn’t been in the main tunnel as we’d feared, that didn’t make me any less uneasy though; above ground it was a clear dry night and I wasn’t happy with the situation.

Pic.11 – The twists and turns of our exit route, downstream of the overflow spillway.

It was time to leave. Our preferred exit manhole was a short distance from the chamber so we hurriedly jumped back in the main tunnel and pushed on until the awkwardly located ladder rungs came in to view. Of course the evening wouldn’t have been complete without a Fleet hat-trick, which saw me nearly bathing in anything but chalybeate waters, Fleet Sewer 3 – Jondoe 0. A glance up into the cover’s access recess to see the dim glow of the cyalume stick we had placed earlier that evening confirmed the location. I jumped on the rungs and got up under the cover, which proved a little stubborn to open. We emerged to a surprised looking local shop keeper who had presumed our manhole surround was placed outside his shop by a passing drunk (possibly Otter) and was in the process of removing it until he noticed the cover opening. We regaled him with tales of the poop tsunami and then shuffled off into the now even crisper night air.

Pic.12 – If I could give you one piece of advice it would be this, beware of the ceiling penis.

More than a week later the aqueous vapours of the Fleet still hang heavy in the air, at least in my car they do as I’ve yet to empty the boot of my sodden gear and as the sun’s early rays hit, my car’s interior begins to propagate a sewerfresh atmosphere for the drive to work.

The junction of Pakenham Street and Cubitt Street in St.Pancras is an unremarkable spot. If you were not familiar with the location and were to be instantaneously transported there, you would no doubt be at a loss to your whereabouts, beyond perhaps a guess at the region of the country. It could be any number of suburbs, in any number of UK cities, despite being just one and and half miles by road from the absolute tourist centre of the nation. Of course the instantaneous transporting idea is blown out of the water by street signs and a plethora of local authority dustbins dotted about the place, but you see what I’m getting at; in ice cream terms this street is definitely vanilla. Fig.1 below shows a simple map of the present junction, with markers to indicate the locations of Pic.1 and 2.

Fig.1 – The modern street junction.

Pic.1 – The junction looking south easterly.

The most gushing partisan of London’s tourist board would struggle to drive much traffic to this locality. Today the only thing luring visiting parties to the neighbourhood is a pair of monstrous modern hotels that overlook the scene. Two hundred and fifty years previous however, c.1760, both tourists and locals alike wouldn’t have needed any cajoling to make swift passage to the spot. This commonplace street junction stands thirty yards from what was the main entrance to one of the most popular leisure sites of Georgian London. For its eighty five years as a place of public resort ‘Bagnigge Wells Spa/Tea Gardens’ was the primary draw in a region of other comparable attractions. The spot caught my attention by virtue of being another significant landmark along the course of the River Fleet, later to become the Fleet Sewer, which at different times flowed both alongside and through the gardens of the Bagnigge Wells site.

Prior to its entire route being referenced as the River Fleet there was many a moniker attributed to the watercourse as it meandered from one district to the next. In this locale Stow (A survey of London, 1598) acknowledges the title of The River of Wells, from a charter of William the Conqueror, in 1068; for a time it was also known as the “River Bagnigge”(1). Preceding any development of the site, various names and descriptions of the plot and its general vicinity give an indication of its nature; this “watery or oozy district”(2), formerly known as “Bagnigge Wash, used to be frequently overflowed, when the Fleet Sewer was swollen by heavy rains”(3). Also known as “Bagnigge Marsh”(4) it was referenced in an early grant of land as “a parcel of the waste”(5) of the Manor.

In 1665 when this first recorded land transaction took place it seems reasonable to describe the spot as a quaggy, undeveloped strip of land which formed part of the river’s flood plain, covering approx one acre in a rural setting at the periphery of the City. Pic.2 below gives an impression of how it may have appeared looking north from the point marked on the Fig.1 (thanks to Jon Combe for use of his River Arun picture). The Fleet there through was about twelve feet in width and would have been relatively unpolluted in comparison to its lower reaches. During the time of the first tenants, “George Touffie and his Wife Grace”(6), two properties were built on the site. Presumably at least one of these would have been erected by instruction of Mr Touffie, while the other was perhaps undertaken by a leaseholder to Mr Touffie. Of the two properties, one was known as Bagnigge House, built c.1680, and was to later form part of the Bagnigge Wells resort. The fate of both river and resort were intertwined from the moment the first dwellings were inhabited.

Pic.2 – A representation of the Fleet’s flood plain at Bagnigge Wells c.1660.

The uncertainty alluded to above, as to which of the two properties was Bagnigge House, is only conjecture on my part. Popular opinion cites the more northerly of the two (see fig.2 below) to be Bagnigge House, but I would argue otherwise. Contemporary etchings and other 18th and early 19th century portrayals of the Bagnigge Wells site clearly show the southern property forming a significant part of the resort; the northern property when shown is outside the bounds of the gardens. Logic would suggest that by the build date of Bagnigge House, fifteen years posterior to the original exchange of land, Mr Touffie would have already established his household, making Bagnigge House the second property to be built. Assuming the southern property to be Bagnigge House, if you consider the site previous to its construction, with only the northern house upon it (fig.3) its position fronting the road roughly in the centre of the plot perhaps supports the argument a little. Further support for the southern property is found in the fact that the wells which were to bring the site to public attention are documented as being located within the grounds of Bagnigge House. Given an accurate geographic location for the wells from various sources, such as the ‘Experimental enquiry’ of John Bevis M.D., and transferring this to 18th century maps e.g. John Rocque’s 1746 map of London, Westminster & Southwark, the wells are found to be very much within the bounds of the southern property. In addition a short descriptive text in Volume 1 of ‘London, past and Present’ (Wheatley 1891) cites Bagnigge House as being “a mansion adjoining the Wells on the south”(7), and again considering the position of the wells and wells site, this supports the case for the southern property.

Fig. 2 – The plot c.1680 featuring both properties.

Fig. 3 – The plot featuring the earliest property.

Between 1680 and 1757 little of consequence is heard of concerning Bagnigge House or the ground which it occupies, being one third of Mr. Touffie’s one acre site. It is known from records that it was transferred in 1701 to a Mr William Clarkson, and of course over the passage of seventy seven years the City without had continued to extend in all directions, encroaching upon its rural surrounds. In 1757 when the house and land once more changed hands, passing to Mr Thomas Hughes, the locality was dotted with some small collections of newer properties, but remained very much a rural setting. The City’s northern boundary closest thereto was 0.3 miles as the crow flies; on foot, taking the shortest route via road and pathway, it was a ten minute walk of approx half a mile. Mr.Hughes, then occupying Bagnigge House, sought advise from an associate concerning waters drawn from wells in the garden, as they seemed to be ineffectual in nurturing his flowers. Considering this enquiry is noted to have been in the same year that Mr.Hughes took on the property, 1757, it seems likely that the wells were already existent on the site. John Bevis M.D., to whom Mr.Hughes’ enquiry was directed, confirms this in the text of his ‘Experimental enquiry’ in which he states that “a late proprietor, upon taking possession of the estate, found two wells thereon, both steaned in a workmanlike manner; but when, or for what purpose, they were sunk, he is entirely ignorant.”(8).

Dr.Bevis’ initial results confirmed his suspicions, that the waters were sourced from mineral springs; consequently Mr.Hughes abandoned his flora in favour of enterprise. A re-modelling of the gardens saw them opened to the public as a spa in 1759 under the name of ‘Bagnigge Wells’, or ‘The Royal Bagnigge Wells’ as an advertisement of 1775 heralds them. The royal connection alluded to by this name most likely concerns the spurious and widely disqualified belief that Bagnigge House was once the residence of Eleanor Gwynn, mistress of King Charles II. The waters at Bagnigge Wells were dispensed by pump for drinking, in view of their purported medicinal properties, sanctioned by the authority of Dr.Bevis’ study. As the resort grew in popularity Mr.Hughes was swift to capitalise, with the addition of entertainment, serving hot buttered loaves, cakes, tea and a variety of stronger brews. These changes soon saw Bagnigge Wells became known more so as a Tea Garden than a legitimate venture for effecting any health benefits to its patrons, although those of infirmity did frequent the resort on weekday mornings to take the waters. Within some short years, in 1762, Mr.Hughes leased the gardens to Mr John Davis who continued to expand upon its amenities. In particular Mr.Davis more than tripled the size of the gardens when he leased land on the western bank of the Fleet/Bagnigge River. These new gardens were laid out in a more formal manner while the original gardens remained rather more rustic. Fig.4 below represents the area c.1800, with the original garden’s perimeter in red and the extended boundary marked in blue shows the addition of the newly leased portion of the brick field of Daniel Harrison. With the river now running through the middle of the resort it was necessary to install bridges to unite the two parts, these wooden bridges themselves added further attraction and points of interest.

Fig. 4 – Bagnigge Wells resort c.1800 with formal gardens west of the river.

In those early days the river played no small part in beautifying the whole scene. Lush vegetation adorned its banks, dappled sunlight broke through the canopy of overhanging willows and sparkled on the water, wrens and dunnocks flitted in and out of their green hiding spots, while the sounds of flowing waters tickled the ears of the brew quaffing grandiose. The river also facilitated another particularly avant-garde arrangement, that sent rather different sounds echoing through the gardens. At the northern end of the eastern gardens a water-wheel was in place in the flow of the Fleet, “as this water wheel turned, connecting rods driven by a crank, pumped air using bellows, and drove the barrel assembly”(9) of an organ which would play on weekday afternoons. Through all this development, the domed and columned pump house, the clipped-hedge lined walkways, leaden statues, fish ponds, fountains, the castellated grotto, the tea boxes; despite all this, the old nature of the district had only been veiled and the resort was still at the mercy of the Fleet. In 1768 a particularly heavy rainfall overflowed the reservoirs of Hampstead, whose waters were filled from the sources of the Fleet, the low-lying gardens of Bagnigge Wells were inundated and left under four feet of water. Similar extreme flood incident occurred in 1809 and 1846 and no doubt on a smaller scale flooding was a frequent occurrence. For as long as the the river was unmanaged and untamed, it would be an ever present threat to livelihoods and residents along its course.

For the entire life of the resort the river was a designated public sewer. Though our present day interpretation may consider this unthinkable, until 1815 it was illegal to connect household sanitary waste to a public sewer, rather each house had a cesspit or other waste store which would supposedly be emptied periodically. So an open sewer at that time wouldn’t be quite what we might imagine, being primarily a land drainage channel, although the laws regarding household waste were often flaunted.

Following the death of Mr. Davis in 1793 the resort came under the management of various lessees for comparatively short periods of time. By the close of the eighteenth century and into the first decade of the nineteenth Bagnigge Wells had somewhat fallen from favour with the people of fashion. This likely wasn’t helped by the reputation of Bagnigge Wells Road thereabouts, which had since the early days of the gardens been a notorious hotspot for thieves and robbers, known to frequent a local pub by the name of the Fox at Bay. As the fashionable elite began to frequent the gardens less and less its patronage shifted, to encompass those seeking less salubrious pleasures. Reflecting its shifting customer base the southern extremity of Bagnigge House had seen the addition of a new building for exclusive use as a public house, though still affiliated with the gardens. What had once been some few houses dotted about the district had developed into regimented streets, and the newly built Middlesex House of Correction occupied a vast site just five hundred feet south of the gardens, where previously had stood a mountainous rubbish heap. All this development was bringing the City’s northern boundary ever closer and on all other sides green fields were being built upon and Bagnigge Wells’ rural setting was much reduced, to more of a rural pocket amidst brick and stucco terraces. As a result of the increase in the population and the frequent disregard for the law concerning use of public sewers, an inevitable increase in the pollution level of the River Fleet through the gardens was seen. In 1813 the lease of the premises changed hands again, and this would mark the beginning of the end for Bagnigge Wells.

The northern extent of the original land plot, granted to Mr. Touffie in 1665, that had never formed part of the wells site was by 1813 an established terrace of ordered housing, named Pearl Crescent. Between Pearl Crescent and Bagnigge Wells’ eastern gardens was sited a brewery, which would appear to have been part converted from Mr. Touffie’s original property. The houses of Pearl Crescent adjoined the pathway along Bagnigge Wells Road at their front, and the western boundaries of their rear gardens and yards were defined by the River Fleet which was still entirely open. Similarly the brewery’s eastern and western boundaries were defined by the roadway on the east and the river on the west. Mr. Thomas Salter, the new lessee of the wells, had taken on the resort in a period of considerable change, but the most significant of these changes to concern Bagnigge Wells would be as a direct result of Mr. Salter’s tenancy. In the same year that he took on the resort, 1813, he was declared bankrupt resulting in a general sale by auction of the property and all its fixtures and fittings. The greatest consequence of the sale was the loss of the western gardens; for although the property was purchased and re-opened, it was now reduced to its original proportions, previous to the lease of the western lying brick field. Illustration.1 below, from William Pink’s History of Clerkenwell (1881. pp.567), shows the eastern gardens around this period. Looking south towards Bagnigge House in the background, the two storey castellated building on the far left is the grotto and the collonaded circular structure in the centre mid-ground is the pump house from where the waters were drawn. On the far right we can see tea boxes/bays running along the rivers eastern bank, also seen far left tea boxes are adjoined to the boundary wall along Bagnigge Road.

Illus. 1 – Bagnigge Wells, the eastern gardens, looking south. The river would be on the right, out of frame.

While Bagnigge Wells’ future continued to look bleak the laws concerning public sewers were being relaxed, in 1815 it became legal to discharge household waste to public sewers and soon afterwards there came the first rumblings of public complaint concerning the condition of the river/sewer. The increased pollution, as a result of population growth in the immediate vicinity of Bagnigge Wells, was compounded by similar scenarios along its course yet further upstream in Battlebridge, Kentish Town and Hampstead. Instances of flooding were still common in the low lying valley of Bagnigge Wells Road, but now the floods raised a new concern. In addition to the previous nuisance and threat to property and livelihood, the rivers’ waters carried a much increased threat of disease. In 1825 the Holborn and Finsbury Commission of sewers began to arch over sections of the course of the river through their districts, as circumstance demanded. The first major work undertaken was a 900ft diversion of the river’s course, to create a new line of covered sewer; starting from a point on the river close to the northern boundary of the Bagnigge Wells site and running south to the western boundary of the House of Correction. This section was the first to receive attention for various reasons. The main reason was that the ground above the new sewer was “intended to become a public street or road”(10). The green cross on Fig.5 below marks the same location as that of Fig.1, indicating the spot from where Pic.1 was taken. The route of the 900ft diversion channel is marked(green) on Fig.5, when compared to Fig.1 we can see that the ‘intended public street’ was built, and became Pakenham Street. Conveniently the work coincided with a required diversion of a portion of the river as a result of the expansion of the Middlesex House of Correction. Fig.5 also shows how part of the original course of the river meandered across the north west corner of the proposed new perimeter wall(black) of the prison. These two petitions opportunely allowed for improvement of the drainage of this perpetually marshy locale, and addressed the above mentioned flooding nuisances to a degree, with the lion’s share of the costs being footed by third parties. The property tinted red on Fig.5 provides a reference point for the orientation of Illus.3 & 3a below.

Fig.5 – Development south of the resort.

Fig.5a – Greenwood’s 1830 map showing the new course.

Looking back at Pic.1, in relation to where it was taken from on Fig.5, you may notice that the picture is taken looking south, downstream as it were, but that Pakenham Street has a rising gradient. When the prison was built the ground on the site was raised, following this the spoil from the foundation trench of the new wall was used to raise the ground level more still along the prison’s northern perimeter, along what is now Calthorpe street. Illustration.2 below, from William Hone’s Table Book, Part I (Jan 1827. col.75-76), shows very well the north-west corner of the prison site during the construction of the new wall and pictures the still undiverted River Fleet flowing about the foundations. The river bank in the foreground, on which the figures are posed, would be the original ground level. If you then consider that the foundation arches of the wall were completely covered when the trench was backfilled, it gives some idea as to how considerably the level of the ground here was raised.

Illus.2 – The new prison wall with the Fleet channel at its foundations, 1826.

The work on the new prison wall and the northern two thirds of the new sewer line took place simultaneously, during 1826. The sewer was built twelve by twelve feet, with flat sides and an arched crown and invert. When it came to the remaining third of the sewer, along the western wall of the prison, to divert the river out of the prison grounds, it was decided that the greater fall here would allow for a pipe of smaller dimensions as the incline “rendered the portion of the current through the smaller sewer equal to the larger one”(11). The remaining third of the work was of similar form but scaled down to ten feet high by nine feet wide. Pic.3 below is taken from within the last section of the twelve foot portion of the sewer, looking downstream toward the smaller lower third that diverted the river outside of the new prison walls. The branch sewer joining at the right foreground is that of Wren Street, formerly Wells Street. Being already formed when the diversion works took place it had to be suitably communicated with the new channel, which explains its high level entry to the Fleet Sewer.

Pic.3 – The southern end of the 12ft diversion channel, leading onto the 10×9 section.

The strip of land east of the river bed, between the newly raised ground and Bagnigge Wells, had developed comparably to Pearl Crescent, with its boundaries defined by the river and the road. The difference here, besides the houses being closer in date to Bagnigge House, was that those closest to the prison site were about face to those of Pearl Crescent, with the rear walls of the houses forming part of the eastern bank of the river (as seen in Illus.3 below which depicts the scene c.1814). The natural river valley here was very prominent leading to and from the houses and this sequence of works had added a further bound of higher ground on their south side, causing them to be very peculiarly situated. The circumstance of this little cul-de-sac, marked on John Tompson’s 1803 map as Brooks Gardens, seems to have persisted for a further forty five to fifty years, as it appears still to be largely unaltered on an ordnance survey map of 1871! In the Gentleman’s Magazine of January 1855 is an article pertaining to the River Fleet, where the author’s text describes Brooks Gardens’ curious situation. “If we go to the north side of the prison, and look across a small timber-yard, we behold in a dell, some twenty or twenty-five feet beneath us, a few wretched and decayed houses, whose chimney-tops scarce reach the level of our feet. These houses must have been by the side of the stream, for they are directly on its course; but improvements have taken place around them, the soil has been artificially raised, and here they are pushed entirely aside, as if disowned by their more genteel neighbours”(12). Writing at approximately the same time, c.1855, Mr William J. Pinks also notes the significance of these dwellings in relation to the river, “The original level may still, however, be ascertained by descending a sloping way, west of the road, opposite the end of Baker Street, to some small cottages, which we presume to have formerly stood on the margin of the Fleet”(13). Fig.5 above has Brooks Gardens marked, bottom right. When the new sewer work was complete and the river’s waters had been diverted, the spoil from its cut was used to fill the five hundred foot stretch of isolated river channel still open behind Brooks Gardens and Bagnigge Wells. On a sketched plan of Bagnigge Wells, dated 1841, Anthony Crosby marks a ‘ditch’ at the eastern boundary of the gardens, where the river once ran. Though it is documented that the channel was back-filled it seems quite probable over the course of fifteen years, 1826 – 1841, that the channel’s fill had settled and a shallow drainage ditch re-established along the river’s course.

It was across the ground by Brooks Gardens that wooden pipes carried drinking water from the New River Co., as seen in Illus.3 & 3a below, crossing the River Fleet by a bridge at the south west corner of the plot. The pipes used, being hollowed out tree trunks tapered at one end and fitted one inside the other, had a life expectancy of five to fifteen years dependant largely upon the ground in which they were buried, or indeed whether they were buried at all. The water mains that crossed the river valley here were not buried and ran in four rows, alongside each other. It seems that when possible it was preferred to lay this type of pipe aboveground as it massively reduced the costs involved in locating and rectifying any leaks, of which there were many, accounting for one quarter of the water carried. Illus.3 is a reproduction by Mr F.W. Reader (1904) of an original image in the Soane Museum thought to date to c.1814. Executed looking north, the trees in the top left are those of the former western gardens of the Bagnigge Wells resort, only lost a year or so previous following Mr. Salter’s bankruptcy. The property tinted red in Illus.3 is the same property as in both Fig.5 above and Illus.3a below. The original illustration from which Mr. Reader’s was taken is said to have been commissioned to show the defective pipes at this point. Illus.3a shows the same location at seemingly the same time, taken from the Fleet’s west bank looking eastwards towards Bagnigge Wells Road; it shows the original prison wall on the far right prior to expansion of the prison grounds, while on the far left the end house of Brooks Gardens can be seen. From a description in Springs, Streams and Spas of London (Foord. 1910. pp.297) it’s fair to deduce that Illus.3a is an accompanying image to the original commission of Illus.3, though it does little to illustrate any leaks. These particular wooden mains were removed c.1815, soon after the drawings were taken, and replaced with a single iron pipe carried across the Fleet by a new bridge sited downstream some three hundred feet south west. In Illus.2 above, the bridge crossing the Fleet in the background is this secondary bridge, successor to that of Illus.3 & 3a, originally having been outside of the prison walls prior to the expansion works of 1826.

Illus.3 – Bagnigge Wells top left, opposite the twin tile kilns of Mr. Randell.

Illus.3a – Looking east c.1814, river Fleet in mid-foreground.

Having re-opened in 1814, by 1830 the wells resort had been under new management on three further occasions. Its clientèle was by then predominantly local residents of the lower orders of society and the venue had been transformed accordingly. The Long Room, that stretched from the main body of the house northwards along Bagnigge Wells Road, was utilised as a concert hall with an entrance located along the road. In the immediate vicinity of the resort much had changed. Land to the west of the river which once formed part of the gardens was now occupied by the yard of Thomas Cubitt, Master Builder, who also had premises in Grays Inn Road. Mr. Cubitt, along with his younger brother William, had already stamped his name on the area by the building of many of the various streets to the north and west of Bagnigge Wells, although it was to be later generations who literally put his name on the map here. By 1831 William Cubitt was at the helm of the family business and it was he who, in December of that year, put in a petition to the Commission of Sewers for the construction of a new sewer, to be eight hundred and twenty feet in length, measuring ten feet high by nine feet wide. This would be the second major work to convey the Fleet underground along this section of its course and, like the previous diversion work discussed, the drainage work here was being undertaken ahead of the development of a new public street. In fact this second series of works, in conjunction with the previous diversion, would completely remove the Fleet from sight between Frederick Street at the northern tip of our original land plot and Phoenix Place along the western boundary of the prison. The brick sewer was built during the following year, 1832, and once again the spoil from the cut of the work was used to fill the redundant section of river channel.

Fig.6 – Mogg’s 1834 map, with new junction.

Fig.7 – 1839 map showing sewer and river course.

Although work on the new street appears to have begun shortly after the completion of the sewer, both written and map records suggest that it did not near completion until 1839. In Fig.6 above, a section of Mogg’s 1834 Strangers Guide to London, we see one of the earliest mapped representations of our road junction(highlighted). Cubitt’s new roadway was named Arthur Street, later re-named Cubitt Street, and ran from Frederick Street in the north down to Wells Street, roughly following an old field/land boundary. The new sewer however did not run the entire length of Arthur Street, its course was taken to about a midway point, in line with Bagnigge Wells, and then turned south east to connect with the 1826 diversion works upon which Pakenham Street was built. The south east spur of the new sewer was also designated to be built upon, as an extension of Pakenham Street, though it did not remain as such for many years. Fig.7 above shows the site in 1839. The dashed lines of the new streets surrounding Bagnigge Wells would suggest that the area was still a work in progress. The red line shows the new underground course of the River Fleet with labels identifying the two construction periods; the paler dashed edged red line indicates the original river course, now filled in, that defined the property boundaries on either side of it. In London County Council’s Survey of London (Godfrey, 1952) it is stated that “Cubitt Street now runs where the stream reached its greatest distance from the road”(14), the road in question being King’s Cross/Bagnigge Wells Road. From Fig.7 above and the details we have covered thus far we know this not to be the case and that the stream/river was for the most part at least seventy feet east of Cubitt Street. The confusion was presumably due to Cubitt Street all but echoing the course of the river for the length of the new sewer, as can be seen in Fig.7. Their parallel trajectories are in the main resulted from the street/sewer following an old field boundary, which itself had been defined by the river, also the natural contour of the land would favour this route for an efficient drainage channel.

The marriage of the southern end of the new sewer with the 1826 works severed a two hundred foot section of the earlier tunnel, rendering it obsolete. In similar circumstances elsewhere in London, the disused section of sewer has been backfilled during the phase of works that created it and so it seems logical to expect the same to be the case here. A two hundred foot length of twelve by twelve sewer would not have been bricked up and left to decay and eventually fail, especially in a developing suburb of the Metropolis. However, I suspect it was not entirely filled, Pic.4 below is taken looking north from within the 1826 tunnel, looking towards its union with the smaller 1831 sewer. The enlarged area of the image shows a bricked up portal, approx 5ft high, located at the point where the 1826 tunnel would have continued. The simplest explanation would be that a smaller brick sewer was run through the redundant section of tunnel previous to it being filled. The form and dimensions of the portal would be consistent with those of the Holborn and Finsbury Commissions specification at that time, previous to engineer John Roe introducing the superior oval form for their branch sewers. Another possibility is that the portal is an old bricked up access passage, but its size and location mostly rule this out. The drain exploring dreamer in me would like to believe that they just left the disused section in place and formed this portal to access it, I am aware though that such a thought is about as naive as imaginings I once had of the River Fleet today being anything but a feculent waste water soup. So the first option being the most probable we can deduce that this side tunnel also became disused at some point and was filled and sealed, eliminating the route of the northern most section of the older diversion work. Over the six year period from 1826 – 1832 the quarter mile portion of the River Fleet from Frederick street in the north to Phoenix Place in the south went from being entirely open, in its natural bed, to being entirely enclosed in an artificial channel and displaced seventy feet westward, as seen in Fig.7.

Pic.4 – Union of the 1826 and 1832 works highlighting defunct mystery portal.

By 1839 the Bagnigge Wells resort, under proprietor John Hamilton, wasn’t so much hobbling along on its last legs as it was dragging itself across the muddied ground by its fingernails while trying to keep its face from falling flat in the dirt. Evening concerts were still a regular occurrence but attendance figures were pitiful, with most people preferring to frequent the tavern. The gardens had been allowed to become overgrown with nettles and the grotto and pump house were very dilapidated. The general area was by now assimilated into the great suburban sprawl and water from the wells was no longer taken on account that it was considered sullied, it was however drawn for use in the brewing process and so was still benefiting the resort in a round about kind of way. By 1841 Bagnigge Wells’ cup was well and truly dry. A portion of the boundary wall along Bagnigge Wells Road had been ‘accidentally’ knocked down in April, also causing the grotto to collapse. In June of that year, like its attendant river only nine years previous, work began to remove the decrepit remnants from view and memory. First to fall was Bagnigge House, on to which had been adjoined the Bagnigge Tavern c.1800. It is documented that a new tavern was built at the Bagnigge Wells site following the gardens closure, but I suspect this was in fact the early 1800s tavern that was retained, having been further extended to include a kitchen where the garden’s southern entrance once stood. Being of a later date and in a rather better state of repair, in comparison to Bagnigge House this tavern could certainly be considered new. The demolition work was being undertaken with a view to erecting a new terrace of housing on the cleared site and so things progressed rather swiftly, with most of the remaining buildings cleared in two to three weeks. The long room was removed to a point at which it would not hinder the construction of the new houses, but not completely removed until more than a year later. A small watercolour at the London Metropolitan Archives, dated November 1842, shows the remaining northern end of the long room with two windows still in place, while to the left of the remains is the end house of three that formed the newly erected terrace named Clarke’s Place.

With the river through the site now entirely diverted underground, and the gardens site itself being redeveloped, you’d perhaps think that our story was complete? But the river’s influence on the further development of the area continued and continues long after it was shunted westward and buried alive. Between 1665 and 1826, while the river was open and the neighbourhood was taking shape, it was the river’s course that acted as a natural property boundary. By the time the river was no longer present these boundaries were very much established. Any new development, like that of Clarke’s Place, was undertaken respecting these existing boundaries and consequently the river’s course is still a part of the landscape today. Looking at the aerial photograph (courtesy of Google Maps) of Fig.8 below, with the property boundaries through the old Bagnigge Wells site highlighted, the course of the Fleet is still very apparent. For the sake of a little more visualisation fig.8a below shows the river’s course overlaid on a bird’s eye view of the district looking roughly northwards (courtesy of Bing Maps).

Fig.8 – Property boundaries still mark the river’s course (click to view full image).

Fig.8a – Bird’s eye view with river overlay (click to view full image).

To close the book on Bagnigge Wells we should cover its very final flickering out and touch on what crumbs endure of such a significant location. In the process of extending Clarke’s Place northward on the gardens site along Bagnigge Wells Road, c.1844, the end portion of the Long Room was removed and all that then remained of the grounds themselves was a forty by eighty foot slice of land between the new housing and Chapman’s Brewery to the north. This forlorn slice of the gardens, covered with brick pieces and other demolition debris, was still bounded by its original portion of wall along the roadside frontage. Into this wall was set the eastern doorway from the road into the gardens. While the resort was still in popular use a stone inscription had been set above this doorway, having been removed from the exterior of Bagnigge House, it read “This is Bagnigge House Neare The Pinder A Wakefeilde 1680″. The Pinder of Wakefeilde being a tavern in the Gray’s Inn Road, to the west of Bagnigge Wells, which was a significant stopping point on route in and out of the city and a well known landmark. A pencil drawing in the London Metropolitan archive, signed Geo.Sidney Shepherd and dated 1849, shows the small section of wall with its doorway and inscription still existent, above the inscription a stone head is mounted which was thought to have been a later addition and not from the house.

Pic.5 – The Bagnigge House inscription mounted at the site of the former eastern doorway.

The plaque, pictured above courtesy of Diamond Geezer, is the only artefact known to survive today. It is set into the front wall of a house in King’s Cross Road (formerly Bagnigge Wells Road) and is located still at about the spot where the eastern garden doorway would have stood. So what happened to the doorway? Like the bulk of the site before it the residual slither of garden was eventually built upon, though on an ordnance survey map of 1871 it appears to have briefly formed a part of the Cubitt’s builder’s yard. Unlike its associated waterway the Bagnigge Wells resort was denied its obvious legacy amongst the city streets about its locale. Bagnigge Wells Road was re-named in 1863, presumably under the banner of progress, putting all but the last nail in the coffin that would bury the gardens. The road was given the name of King’s Cross Road, after the district of King’s Cross to which it now lead to/from. King’s Cross itself had only existed under that name for thirty three years at that time, “In 1830 Battle Bridge assumed the name of King’s Cross, from a ridiculous octagonal structure crowned by an absurd statue of George IV.”(15) The road had been known by its resort related moniker for a hundred plus years and for the majority of that time its reputation was somewhat less than rosy. Perhaps the new name was hoped to wipe out the old character, even if it was re-named after a statue that people disliked and that only stood for fifteen years. As the decision on the new road name was carried it also wiped from the map other place names whose simple etymology told of the old nature of the area. Existing rows of housing along King’s Cross Road were to be uniformly numbered for its entire length and their old terrace names, such as Brook’s Row, Field Place and Field Terrace, were abolished.

By the late nineteenth century Bagnigge Wells existed only in memory. The ‘new’ Bagnigge Wells Tavern on the corner of King’s Cross Road and Cubitt Street was the only significant presence that helped to preserve the name in the collective local consciousness. Amongst the grid of streets that then surrounded the site only one name lingered to give any intimation of its bygone days. Wells Street, to the south-west of Bagnigge Wells, was formerly a footpath across the fields from Gray’s Inn Road to the wells resort. In 1824 the Gray’s Inn Road end of the path was built up as a residential street by Messrs Cubitt and named from its obvious association. Wells Street endured for almost a century beyond the closure of the gardens, it was re-named Wren Street c.1940. More recent generations have attempted to redress the balance a little; new housing developments which stand partly on ground that formed the western gardens have been named Wells Square and Fleet Square. The New Bagnigge Wells Tavern likely lived on a little longer than Wells Street, though I can’t say for certain and have struggled to find much documentation. Two photographs taken in 1924 by the Landlord at that time, George Isaac Free, show views from the windows of the tavern’s upper floor, thus we know it at least stood until that time. It is suspected that the tavern took bomb damage during WWII and had to be torn down, speculation I hope to get to the bottom of when I get my hands on a copy of the London County Council’s Bomb Damage maps, 1939 – 1945. The property that now occupies the site of the tavern is a modern block (seen on the right below) likely built in the early 90s. It would be rather elementary to assume that the present building succeeded the tavern, and I do not believe this to be the case.

Tavern site 2010, at the corner of King’s Cross Road and Cubitt Street (click to view in Google streetview).

Before Thomas Hughes became the first proprietor of Bagnigge Wells, and before the wells themselves had been sunk, the springs upon which both depended would have drained to the river along with numerous others around about. Today the Fleet Sewer at Bagnigge Wells is a debased form of the natural river of times past, displaced from its course, with natural springs substituted by spouting cloacal tributaries of bubbling faecal brew. These counterfeit waters tickle the nose with their sulphurous odours in much the same way as the springs that preceded them. If taken, their potency would far surpass the former flows’ purgative qualities and Dr. Bevis’ recommended three pints is certainly no longer the prescribed cathartical dose. While this modern river (as seen in Pic.6 below) is far removed from its original state it is as close to Bagnigge Wells as any person can today hope to get. The extensive development of the original land plot of Fig.2 means there is little physical structure aboveground, besides the main roadway, that bridges the periods to help equate one with the other. For certain, if Mr. Touffie was instantaneously transported from the roadway in front of his property, in 1680, to the same spot in 2010 he would be as lost to his whereabouts as the river, wells and gardens of Bagnigge are to London.

Pic.6 – The Fleet Sewer at Bagnigge Wells, its purgative waters are more potent than ever the resort did deliver.

References:

1.URBAN, Sylvanus. 1813. Gentleman’s magazine and historical chronicle. London: J.B. Nichols, Son and Bentley. Volume 83: Part 2. pp.557.

2.TOMLINS, Thomas Edylne. 1858. Yseldon: Perambulation of Islington [Online], pp.160. Available: here. [Accessed 10 December 2009].

3.THORNBURY, Walter. 1878. Pentonville. In: Old and New London. Volume 2. [Online] pp. 279-289. Available: here. [Accessed 12 December 2009].

4.ASHTON, John. 1888. Chapter vii. In: The Fleet, its river, prison and marriages. London: T. Fisher Unwin. pp.77

5.GODFREY, Walter H. and MARCHAM, W. McB., ed. 1952. The Calthorpe Estate. In: Survey of London: volume 24: Part 4. pp.56-69.

6.GODFREY, Walter H. and MARCHAM, W. McB., ed. 1952. The Calthorpe Estate. In: Survey of London: volume 24: Part 4. pp.56-69.

7.WHEATLEY, Henry Benjamin. 1891. London, past and present: its history, associations, and traditions. London: John Murray. volume 1. pp.87-88

8.ASHTON, John. 1888. Chapter vii. In: The Fleet, its river, prison and marriages. London: T. Fisher Unwin. pp.78

9.ORD-HUME, A.W.J.G. 1978. Barrel organ: the story of the mechanical organ and its repair. London: George Allen & Unwin. pp.52.

10.LUSH, J.W. 1827. Holborn and Finsbury sewers entries of bonds and contracts 1821 – 1827. London: Holborn and finsbury Commission of sewers. London Metropolitan Archive. pp.185.

11.LAXTON, William. 1844. The Civil Engineer and Architect’s Journal. Volume VII. [Online] pp. 314. Available: here. [Accessed 02 February 2010].

12.WALLER, J.G. 1855. The River Fleet. In: URBAN, Sylvanus. Gentleman’s magazine and historical chronicle. [Online], 43(Jan-Jun) pp.28. Available: here. [Accessed 18 December 2009].

13.PINKS, William J. and WOOD, Edward J., ed. 1881. The History of Clerkenwell. London: Charles Herbert. pp.561.

14.GODFREY, Walter H. and MARCHAM, W. McB., ed. 1952. The Calthorpe Estate. In: Survey of London: volume 24: Part 4. pp.56-69.

15.THORNBURY, Walter. 1878. Highbury, Upper Holloway and King’s Cross. In: Old and New London: volume 2. [Online] pp.273-279. Available: here. [Accessed 25 February 2010].

Illustrations:

1.PINKS, William J. and WOOD, Edward J., ed. 1881. The History of Clerkenwell. London: Charles Herbert. pp.567.

2.HONE, William. 1827. The Table Book. Part1. London: Hunt & Clarke. col.75-76.

3.FOORD, Alfred Stanley. 1910. Springs, Streams, and Spas of London. London: T. Fisher Unwin. pp.296.

3a.Uknown.

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