New Apartment Building, Buckingham Gardens

 

 

 

New apartment building, Buckingham Gardens

 

The sun shines on a new development: this multi-storey residential apartment block was recently completed and replaces a forgettable four-storey office building. The colour scheme is bronze, beige and grey (according to the planning application specs the horizontal stripes are of ‘zinc or anodised metal’) and comprises six storeys. Nearly everybody gets a balcony, constructed of slightly ill-fitting-looking panels and with the underside left exposed; also, the sides of the balconies don’t quite reach the walls, being about six inches removed. Perhaps this was another lazy attempt at the deconstructed structural expressionist style that’s oh-so-vogue at the moment, but it comes across as simply shoddy and cynical– the building looks jerry-built and unfinished. It was with a surprised expression that friendly-bombs first walked past and saw lights on and people inside, and thought “Really? That’s it? That’s finished?”.

 

Another annoying quirk that is cropping up on modern architects’ ticksheets is the irregular arrangement of windows, or in this case balconies. Perhaps the original thinking was that it would look cute or naughty to have a random positioning of what are usually regular, symmetrical features, but it certainly doesn’t look great here, with an undecided, half-hearted deployment of strict spacing and alignment on the sides but baffling irregularity in the centre; the fact that there appears to be two balconies missing just makes it worse, giving it a kind of amateurish, dodgy third world bodge-job appearance, the kind of thing you see in dire buildings in Russia or China built by the constructively challenged, complete with lampposts in front of windows, stairs that don’t align with entrances, doors that open out on the third floor etc, like these hilarious examples I found online:

 

 

We must locate these geniuses. A job in modern British architecture awaits!

 

 

 

 

Another shot of the new apartment building on the corner of Church Street and Herschel Street. Overall it has a half-finished, temporary feel to it, like a kind of modern pre-fab that hasn’t been built to last.

 

Here the humble fire escape has been turned into a major structural feature of the building– another modern cliché that fails to fool anyone as original anymore. Bafflingly, it is enclosed in a kind of metal mesh, that surely fails as shelter and has presumably been used to make the feature knowingly bland and utilitarian– the same design conceit that deliberately seeks out ugly clothing and thick-framed ‘nerd’ glasses as a kind of sophomoric statement against the mainstream. Fun fact: half the people who wear ‘nerd’ glasses don’t even need them.

 

 Additional: It is at least good to see some of Slough’s interminable office buildings being redeveloped for residential use, even if it is for the predictable ‘luxury flats’ (the luxury’s on the inside, presumably)– there’s a 2-bed currently listed for a paltry £289k, if you’re interested. For a long time it was considered sacrilege for Slough to lose an office even when they were cropping up on every corner; even the planning application for this building wailed that “whilst the loss of relatively modern office accommodation in a central location is regrettable the prospect of it being reused for that use is unlikely in the near future. As the location and immediate surroundings are reasonable for flatted residential accommodation the principle of the loss of the office to residential use is acceptable.” Gee, there might be a housing crisis at the moment, but won’t somebody please think about the offices?!

 

 

30 Bath Road, or Why I Hate Glass Balconies

 

Residential housing design conflating with office architecture– the building does not look all that different from many of the large office buildings it shares this stretch of the Bath Road with; the over-use of steel and glass coupled with the strips of grey panels and windows is the kind of thing you would expect in a building you push pens in, not one you sleep in (indeed, friendly-bombs walked past this building many times thinking it was some kind of office complex before the sight of people’s washing hung up to dry let slip that it was housing).

 

Glass-panelled balconies especially are all the rage now, usually constructed with grey, unpainted metal frames, bonus points if you leave the bottom exposed in a dubious attempt at some kind of structural expressionism. Friendly-bombs is not a fan: the use of glass on the balconies has the effect of making them seem cold and brittle, you can imagine the whole lot shattering with a loud thunderclap; they also don’t seem appropriate for our blustery climate.

 

The use of glass in balconies, banisters and balustrades has a further, unnerving psychological affect, that of giving the impression that there is nothing there. So we have panels installed for safety which at first glance don’t appear to be there and thus offer no instinctive reassurance– you have to consciously remind yourself not only that the barrier is there but also that it is probably, probably, not going to break. Glass has never evoked strength and security in the popular mind, and perhaps it never should.

 

Here the identically-sized and spaced balconies, one per flat, face onto the psychotically busy Bath Road dual carriageway, providing probably not the best view or the healthiest air, but actually offering the passer-by a good look in at the occupants. This is because these glass balconies are also de facto windows, offering inadvertent glimpses of the life inside, particularly at night when the flats light up in a kind of snooper’s advent calendar.

 

There’s something slightly depressing about the little hints of humanity you can see in each balcony– a plastic chair for the Summer, kids’ toys, some potted plants, the ubiquitous washing drying in the car fumes– that has perhaps something to do with the uniformity of the flats and the meagreness of the personal space, and the realisation that here, amidst the rush-hour noise, clamour and pollution are people trying to quietly exist in modestly-accessorized lives (Thank goodness the nearby Salt Hill Park provides at least a partial escape). And the more the building you live in looks like the building you wage-slave in, the less comfort both occupant and passer-by gain from it.

 

Planning Permission Tricks #2: Whack-a-Mole Technique

 

 

Following from the last post we now look at another, similar way that developers alter their unpopular plans to give the illusion that concessions have been made. In this case we have the mind-bogglingly insensitive and worryingly foolish plan to build five staggeringly tall tower blocks in close proximity to each other over the Queensmere shopping centre (see this post for a depressing reminder of how this part of town has changed over the years). The initial plans were so ridiculous they seemed like a joke, and even Slough Borough Council, which is usually ready to green-light any hideous plan, complained about it, with councillors describing it variously as looking like “three UFOs” and a “mooning bottom”.

 

Like the aforementioned door-in-the-face technique, the planners had originally asked for a lot more– over 900 flats in total– but this had been reduced to over 670 in the early negotiations; again, the question should have been over whether the entire project was wise at all rather than the eventual number of flats. Then, at the stage of negotiation pictured above, they used the Whack-a-Mole technique: if complaints are raised about the height of your proposed towers, simply lower the tallest one while simultaneously raising the others, meaning that like the arcade game no sooner have you pushed one mole down in one place then another rises elsewhere. The first picture shows ‘before’, the second picture shows ‘after’: the plan has altered, but no great concession has been made, the project still takes up just as much space as it did before, and precious profit is conserved.

 

What you also see in the second picture is the new, utterly superfluous and face-palmingly ugly entrance to the Queensmere shopping centre; it seems the designers have augmented it either out of spite at having had to change their precious plans, or in an attempt to make the first tower seem less intimidating from the High Street by literally blocking all view of it. Like so much of Slough’s recent development it is grey, squared, featureless and cynical, playing perfectly into the expected image of Slough as a hopelessly mundane, soulless, functional business-home not worthy of warmth, wit, character or friendliness; these new developments fall on the Slough pedestrian like a boot on top of an ant, and are equally merciless. Its total lack of texture mirrors the grey paving slab desert before it (the refurbed Mackenzie “Square”) in a duet that adds to the cold, boring, unwelcoming feel of the New Slough. Councillors described this bit as looking like ‘silver duct tape stuck over the top of the towers’, but approved the plan anyway.

 

Planning Permission Tricks #1: Door-in-the-Face Technique

 

 

 

We’ve all familiar with door-in-the-face technique, in fact most of us will have employed it on our parents during childhood. You make a ridiculous demand, so extravagant that it would never be granted– maybe you ask for a wedge of cake an hour before dinner– and wait for it to be denied (“No, you’ll spoil your dinner.”). You then make a reduced, moderate demand (“Can I have a cookie instead?”) that now seems reasonable in comparison and is granted (“Okay, you can have a cookie.”) But of course, getting the cookie was your plan all along. Had you just asked for it outright the original refusal (“You’ll spoil your dinner”) would have been applied and you would have faced the unthinkable prospect of going a whole hour before dinner without extra sustenance. With this little bit of psychology you can sneak an outrageous proposal past the powers that be.

 

Developers seem to be using the same strategy. Over and over again we see examples of ridiculous plans being submitted, which scare the local authorities and are baulked at by the public, only for the developers to resubmit the plans in a slightly muted form that inevitably gets approved, even when the complaints of the original design still apply.

 

So we have the now-approved plans for three massive ‘urban villas’ (sound quaint? Well they ain’t) to be built down Windsor Road, replacing the row of low-rise early 20^th century housing that currently stands there. Initial plans caused outcry and opposition from local residents who objected to the sheer hulking size (some seven storeys) of the buildings, which are in close proximity to each other and threaten to further overcrowd the Central Ward, an already densely populated part of town. The resubmitted plans reduced the height of the project from seven to a maximum of six storeys (locals had wanted a four or five storey maximum); this was promptly approved by Slough Borough Council, who have been working with the builders Shanly Homes Ltd to buy up property along the road (then board it up and leave it derelict, of course) over the last few years.

 

Local residents still aren’t happy, with one being reported as saying this is the kind of infrastructure you see in “third-world countries where there are no planning regulations”. The architects meanwhile claim to have “listened”, while the Council nonchalantly walks away whistling. So an unwanted, unpopular proposal is rejected for a minimally softened version that appears to have given concessions but in reality hasn’t; the essential question, of whether this type of development is warranted here in the first place, goes unanswered. As in my example above, the question should not have been about the size of the snack but whether the kid should get one at all.

 

 

PS: This development headache was designed, once again, by bblur architecture, who with the ridiculous bus station and out-of-place Curve project seem to be hell-bent in using Slough as a kind of test-ground for insensitive structures that would be better off being banished to insensitive climates.

 

 

Mackenzie Street: Three Stages of Development– Past, Present & Future

 

 

Here we see three pictures taken from the same spot on Slough High Street, looking down Mackenzie Street. The first is from 1907, before the town’s major expansion with the Trading Estate; the second is how the view looks today, and the third is a CGI rendering of a development plan that Slough Borough Council have recently given the green light to. What is, what was, and what will be.

 

 

In the first picture we see all the charm of Edwardian Slough: wide, quite well-maintained streets, a variety of shop fronts and an ornate lamp-post that serves as a focal point between the two streets, evidenced by the chap leaning on the post next to it. Mackenzie Street extends away from the viewer with more shops and residential housing further on (the housing consisted of deep, triple-dickered Victorian buildings), and a healthy line of trees on both sides of the street. The street is wide despite this being before the age of the automobile– horse and trap was the preferred method of travel back then, as you can tell by what the horses have, er, left behind in the foreground. Overall, it’s a very open and uncluttered public street which retains a community feel thanks to the nearby residential houses, differing housing stock and the familiar charm of the greenery.

 

In the second picture, we fast-forward to today. As you can see, the street has completely disappeared. This is because it was entirely demolished in the mid-1960s and built over by a large shopping centre (called Queensmere, in yet another sycophantic attempt to claim kinship with the nearby royal residence of Windsor). The street is no more, and all that’s left is this small, grey-paved space in front of the centre entrance, optimistically called ‘Mackenzie Square’. The residential houses are gone, consolidating the town centre’s purpose as being purely for retail; gone too is that sense of community and identity (and also some prime real estate– if housing still existed in this central location today, it would be worth a fortune). Now there is only commerce, and a once public street has become a private operation, open only for business and closed entirely to the elements.

 

The only texture is that of hard, cold grey surfaces. Chilly metal poles provide the lighting and the ever-present cctv surveillance, and there are no trees, or indeed any greenery at all. Benches have been added, but they are of the unfriendly backless kind, metal poles and wooden slats suspended between monolithic blocks– boldly designed but cold and uncomfortable to sit on. Backless benches usually indicate to me a tacit admission that sitters aren’t welcome, like the seats in certain fast food restaurants that are designed to be uncomfortable so that you don’t linger too long on them. Overall, this feels like a resented public space, one that has been designed without warmth or softness specifically to dissuade people from stopping there. Imagine a broad leafy tree, with comfortable wooden benches in its shade and a gravelled patch around its base, serving as a focal point for the shopper to pause, rest or socialise; then open your eyes and wonder where all the optimism went. Still, at least the sky looks good.

 

Oops, spoke too soon! In the third picture we see the CGI wet-dream of what is to come, stretching to the heavens. Plans have now been approved to build five massive towers (with at least one having more than twenty storeys) in close proximity to each other and essentially on top of the Queensmere shopping centre. Residential space has returned, but in the worst possible way.

 

Slough property prices have skyrocketed in recent years as the town struggles with a housing shortage (a la the whole country), and so developers are keen to cash in by building as many properties as possible in the lucrative town centre (see these examples, for measure). Their recent mantra has been to pack in as many of these new apartments as they can into high-density, high-rise buildings; in the case of these five monstrosities, they are being dropped into what is already the most densely populated part of the town. With the busy dual-carriageway of Wellington Street being directly behind them, the shopping centre beneath and the High Street in front, humble little Mackenzie ‘Square’, a few square yards of Victorian repose, becomes practically the only public space around for these new buildings. With over six hundred new flats proposed and potentially a couple of thousand new occupants, they may need to fit in a few more benches.

 

PS: You will also notice in the plans a superfluously enlarged entrance to the shopping centre, designed presumably to obscure as much of the dismaying sight behind it as possible.

 

 

A Look at the Old Adelphi Cinema

 

 

View of the side of the old Adelphi Cinema, seen from Adelphi Gardens

 

The Adelphi opened in 1930, with its first movie being On With the Show!, an all-singing all-dancing new musical talkie, directed by Alan Crosland who had had mega-success with his film The Jazz Singer starring Al Jolson just a couple of years prior. Other than films, the Adelphi hosted live music, ballroom dancing, social functions and even wrestling. Over the years some big names finally realised their artistic ambitions by playing in Slough: Yehudi Menuhin, Roy Orbison, Little Richard, Nana Mouskouri, the Walker Brothers and even some backwater talent contest runner-ups called The Beatles in 1963. The Rolling Stones did a gig here in the 60s, and were asked to leave by a lady who worked there as they were so scruffy she had no idea who they were!

 

Far superior to those rank amateurs was one James Marshall ‘Jimi’ Hendrix, who performed here in the mid 60s with the Experience, on tour supporting Engelbert Humperdinck. Forget Woodstock, Hendrix plays Slough! Older locals still remember the occasion: one lady related to me the story of how she and her friends had gone there to see the dreamy Engelbert, only to find the wild man of rock opening the night. “You could smell him from the other side of the room,” she recalled, adding “It was so loud we spent the whole time in the toilets”. And with that glowing praise, Slough cements itself in rock history forever.

 

 

View of the side of the old Adelphi Cinema (built in 1929)

 

For many years the Adelphi Cinema was the focal point of the town’s entertainment, including music, theatre, ballroom dancing and movies. It was built in 1929 and designed by Eric Norman Bailey of Maidenhead. Cinemas are functional buildings, and can be difficult to design appealingly as they don’t require windows or other features, and need to be large enough inside to house an audience and give decent acoustics. The picture above shows the back of the building (the front being obviously more elaborate), and the grim brick monolith has been lent a bit of old-fashioned charm by retaining the old Adelphi letters– in its day a form of advertising, now an echo of the town’s past and heritage; many a little nipper’s face would have lit up at the sight of these letters.

 

Smaller venues could be tucked away in the terrace of a high street, with all the focus being on the frontage and entrance, but there’s no hiding once you reach behemoth-size. Built with over 2,000 seats, the free-standing Adelphi was an ancestor of the massive, multiscreen ‘multiplexes’ we see today, built large enough to service a large customer base that had grown with the town (when the cinema opened in 1930, the town’s population was double what it had been just ten years prior). Its variety of uses, particularly for local functions and dance evenings, would have meant it could serve as a hub for social entertainment, rather than the more individualistic experiences you get in such venues today. The Adelphi ceased to function as a cinema many years ago, but still retains a bit of that old social entertainment character in its new life as… a bingo hall! Eyes Down!

 

 

Adelphi Cinema, now Gala Bingo, seen from the Bath Road

 

A view of the front of the building, in need of a little love and restoration-- certainly the grubby entrance and filthy parapet could do with a bit of refurb. Give it a new paintjob, get rid of that duff Gala billboard, lose the scaffolding, do up the entrance and this could be one impressive edifice.

 

A Walk Around St Mary's Church, Upton

 

 

 

St Mary’s Church, Upton

 

One of the architectural highlights of Slough is St Mary’s Church in Upton, probably as good an example of Victorian Gothic as you’ll ever get. Most of it dates to 1876, and is built of red brick and stone, with details in dark brick and flint, and is highly ornate in keeping with the Gothic revival style. The current building replaced an earlier neo-Norman church built in 1837 that had been outgrown by the local population. The distinctive spire was added in 1912 and is believed to be the last church spire made of stone erected in England; its imposing height has made it into something of a local landmark, although from most angles it is obscured, predictably, by office blocks. 

 

 

Close-up of the tower and spire, St Mary’s Church, Upton

 

The rebuilt tower and spire was completed in 1913 and houses ten bells, eight of which were cast at Whitechapel in the 19^th century; the design is in keeping with the Early English Gothic style of the rest of the building (Thanks, Pevsner). The bells still sound every Sunday morning, although friendly-bombs is rarely up to hear them.

 

 

West windows of St Mary’s Church, Upton

 

John Betjeman visited St Mary’s in the late 60s, and as a connoisseur of church architecture and fan of the High Victorian style would have been doubtless impressed, but it was the celebrated stained-glass windows in the West wing that really excited him. They were designed by the artist Alfred Wolmark and made between 1915 and 1917, to an abstract design of non-symmetrical geometrical shapes; James Elliman Jr, son of the famous local businessman of the same name and the guy who was footing the bill, had said that he “didn’t want any saints, or halos, or anything of that kind”. Pevsner, whose guides were always biased in favour of church architecture anyway, was gushing in his praise, calling the windows “a most remarkable display… a pioneer work of high significance”; Maxwell Fraser’s History of Slough relates that when Betjeman and fellow guide-editor John Piper saw it “they were so impressed by it that they realised they had scarcely done justice to its originality”.

 

If the above picture seems a little underwhelming, it’s because stained glass windows only really work when viewed from the inside; seen from the church interior, and when the light’s right, the windows really are dazzlingly impressive. However, friendly-bombs only enters church in order to vote in useless local elections, so interior shots will have to wait until the next hopeless bunch of candidates comes forward to collectively waste Slough’s time.