Verandahs were for hitchin'

The verandah outside the 1886 Soul Pattinson Chemist

Pitt Street Mall is now a pedestrian plaza. I will chance my arm and declare it the retail heart of Sydney. Once upon a time, the streets of Sydney were littered with shop-front verandahs. They were probably a harking back to "the old country", but I prefer to think of them as a protection from the heat, or even a hitching post for the horse'n'buggy.

This is the facade for Eway & Co, a drapery department store established in 1891 and taken over by Farmers in 1955. The verandah is faux.

Showing the detail in the Soul Pattinson wrought iron.

The "Pitt Street Mall" in 1878. First the east side, then the west side.

Nowadays, there appears to be a harking back to the mid-19th-century, with the return of shop-front verandahs (faux, invariably). It is more easily accommodated in a pedestrian mall, than on a busy footpath beside a major street, like Pitt Street. I quite like the mental image they conjure up, of continuity. Make sure you enlarge the two historic images which I found on State Records Archives Investigator.

The detail of The Strand Arcade wrought iron.

Circular Quay - Sea-horse motif

This is the motif on the railing that winds through the Circular Quay wharves. It is quite different from the railing around the rest of Sydney Cove. This Sea-horse motif echoes similar motifs which decorate the railway station immediately behind the wharves. It was recenly pointed out to me that a Star-fish was now to be called a Sea-star, because it was not a fish. A Sea-horse is not a horse, so ...

Glorious sandstone

ABOVE: Walking down the other side of Loftus Street. making this facade part of the Lands Building. Keeping in mind that these images were taken on 2nd January, and the teeming hordes were not in the city yet after their night of festivities. This is the block around the Department of Education building. Remember, this building is flanked by Bridge Street, Loftus Street, Bent Street, and Young Street.

What has gotten into me? Glorious sandstone, and I show the images in B&W. Grilled windows in Loftus Street. Grilled windows in Youmg Street. Wrought iron door grill in Bent Street. BELOW:This young chap was picking his way down Loftus Street to Circular Quay.

Eye of the beholder

Many of Sydney's grand old ladies of the street, are sagging, and tawdry, and best viewed in intricate detail. A landscape view is more than my besotted heart can bear. Especially of those that inhabit the streets of Moore Park. Along with the wood rot in the rafters, they have had more facelifts, tummy tucks, and botox than can be assayed along Sunset Boulevard. But then, perhaps that is to be expected, as many of them date from the 1870s.

Nick from Melbourne has written one of the better posts on wrought iron that I have read. Yes, yes. Believe you me. Go and read for yourself.

Self-confessed 'luddite'

"Paspaley Pearls' on the corner of Martin Place and George Street

It is not that I am against progress, I just prefer to live in the past. Brushed aluminium, Scandinavian ashe, and etched glass are all well and good, but give me granite and sandstone any old day.

According to Wiki, the Luddites were a social movement of 19th-century English textile artisans who protested against the changes produced by the Industrial Revolution, that replaced them with less skilled, low wage labour, and which they felt were leaving them without work and changing their way of life.

Frequently, mechanised looms were destroyed in a quaint process referred to as "collective bargaining by riot".

In modern usage, a 'Luddite' is one overwhelmed by the new, by the modern, by the ever-changing, who seeks refuge in the tried and true, who reveres the test of time, who dwells in that fascinating land known as the past, or even, the 'passed'.

The short facade of the QVB facing Market Street

Beware the man who isn't there!

Two views of the stair-well in the southern wing of the Australian Museum on College Street.

This is my contribution to the Weekend in Black and White community.

Wrought Iron today

These are the gates to the Royal Botanic Gardens when entering from the forecourt of the Sydney Opera House.

If you recall, last week I went to an exhibition at the foundry of Wrought-Artworks, down at the Australian Technology Park in Eveleigh, the old Railway Loco-workshops. I showed you a video of their work, and in it Guido spoke about their commission to 'renovate' the wrought iron in these gates.


On Sunday, I deliberately entered the Botanic Gardens via this gate, not through the forecourt, but up and over the Tarpeian Way at the rear of Government House. It is a glorious walk. And lo and behold, the workmanship in these gates is a joy! The little red 'engine' is a free service to move visitors around the Botanic Gardens. The water in the final shot is Sydney Harbour, specifically Farm Cove. There can be few better walks in Sydney than from these gates around to Mrs Macquries's Chair at the tip of The Domain.

This is my contribution to the Skywatch Friday Community.

Ms Scarlet, on the balcony, with panache

This flaming redhead, beckoning from the balcony for gents to come up and see her sometime, transports me back to the days of Hayworth, Hepburn, Hayward, and O'Hara. It is a Brachychiton Acerifolius, with the common name Illawarra Flame Tree. Can you match these first names to the redheads in my reverie: Susan, Maureen, Rita, and Katharine?

The Glebe: a tale of two cities

As one walks across the Tasman Bridge, deep in the commanding background rises Mount Wellington which on my first day was blowing a blizzard and covered with a foot of snow!


However, lowering my eyes there is a ridge running N-S on the Derwent side of which rises the glory of the Royal Tasmanian Botanic Gardens. In the lee of the ridge, on the western or Hobart side of this ridge rises the quaint suburb of The Glebe. Imagine my immense delight ...


This suburb is a hash of about a dozen streets that tumble down the side of the Queen's Domain (1860). However, judging from their Federation styling, I take the suburb to have been settled in the very early years of the 20th century.


Most of the houses (the ones that interest me, at any rate!) are made of weatherboard, but this is not surprising in a state renown for its timber industry. Here for your pleasure is a selection from the 20 or so photographs that I took as I floated around the gorgeous houses.

Glass and old lace

Talfourd Street runs parallel to Glebe Point Road on the City side. This glorious entry way is in the section down from the corner with the Court House one side and the cop shop the other, between St Johns Road (nearly said "avenue" there, but St Johns Avenue is up in Gordon, a somewhat toffee-nosed enclave of our fair city!!) and Bridge Street.

Switching to autopilot whilst I galivant around southern Tasmania for 10 days, returning Monday 5th October.