King George IV, 1820-1830

George IV became king in 1820 and died in 1830.  His statue in Trafalgar Square is a bronze by Sir Francis Legatt Chantrey, completed in 1828, in which (at his own request) George IV is “dressed in ancient Roman attire riding bareback.”  King George funded at least a portion of the cost of the statue himself.  When he died in 1830, the Observer, Jun 27, 1830, p. 2 printed a lengthy memoir:

…it becomes an imperative, though a very painful duty on our part to take a retrospect of his Majesty’s life, in order that the public may form an accurate estimate of his private and political character.

The young prince had tutors until 1776 when his formal education terminated.  Lord Holderness, the first Governor of the Prince,

…found his Royal Pupil in the habit of reading books calculated to infuse arbitrary and tyrannical principle of government, and despotic habits of behaviour.  In vain he remonstrated with his Majesty, and addressed himself to the Queen, and still finding such political poison to be continued to be poured into the ears of his Royal Pupil, he resigned his office…

There were several subsequent preceptors until the termination of his formal education at the age of 14.  An account of later reported the Prince was “extremely ignorant of all useful knowledge” and kept secluded.  “…It is not a matter of surprise with us that, with the ardour of youth, he plunged into the felicities of life, and committed foibles for which his inexerpeince may be charitably received as an apology.”  He patronized the prize ring, sports such as bull-baiting, and horse-racing.  At age 18, he “engaged in an amour with a beautiful and accomplished actress, the wife of an attorney named Robinson.”  This understandably caused much scandal, bringing “great uneasiness to the Royal Family” and “much pain to the lover” and “finally terminated in the early death of his mistress in poverty and obscurity.”

He lost at cards as well as horses due to his style of living said to be “splendid beyond precedent” and he was indebted for between two and three hundred thousand pounds.  By 1792 he was advised to “retire from public life for a time, and appropriate the greater part of his income to the liquidation of his debts.”  The Prince had married a widow, Mrs. Fitzherbert, in an “illegal ceremony” (changes in the law had forbid royalty to marry without approval of the King, and to a Papist, and George had neither his father’s approval and Mrs. Fitzherbert was Catholic) and yet in 1795, announced to marry Princess Caroline Louisa of Brunswick, presumably for her money as he was heavily indebted.  The Prince was at that time “notoriously attached” to Mrs. Fitzherbert and Lady Jersey, another paramour.  Princess Caroline was dejected as she was in love with another, and the Prince “bore his fate with very little grace.”  Following the birth of their daughter, Princess Charlotte Augusta in 1796, the prince and princess separated.  Princess Charlotte died in childbirth while Princess Caroline was living abroad, and she learned of it by chance as George did not tell her.  When George III died in 1820 and George IV became king, Princess Caroline returned to London to establish her rights as Queen, but was banned from the coronation.  People took Caroline’s side and she was popular amongst them to King George IV’s annoyance.

Finally, the Observer concluded after a lengthy summary of his political, financial, personal, and domestic actions:

Much, however, as we may be disposed to speak, with pain or with respect, of the qualities of his Majesty in private life, it is with regret we must admit that we can find little in his public or political to satisfy our feeling of what was demanded from him, to justify an opinion that he was a wise Sovereign, or to induce us to point out his course as worthy of the imitation of a successor.  ..no disguise or cant can conceal the truth, that all reforms, and all meritorious public exertions, were force on him by the progress of the age, not adopted from an ardent wish to signalize his reign; and that, although a scholar, a gentleman, and a patron of arts, our Sovereign, however worthy of being regretted, was neither a great King, and enlightened statesman, nor a national benefactor. (p. 4)

Nonetheless, the statue of George IV on horseback was placed on an empty plinth in Trafalgar Square 1843, and it has been there since.  In 2008, Gerald Warner of the Telegraph wrote of a possible decision to permanently occupy the vacant fourth plinth in Trafalgar Square with an equestrian statue of the Queen, in recognition of her dedicated public service.  Warner stated her statue would also:

…do her capital a further service in banishing the trash that sporadically clutters the plinth in the name of modern art, to the bankruptcy of which it is a monument. The charade began with a sculpture of a naked, pregnant, disabled woman, supposedly intended as a salute to disability; but there was already a disabled, one-armed, one-eyed hero atop the first plinth–Nelson’s Column. (Of course the Queen should take her place in Trafalgar Square, Aug. 7, 2008)

While it is true Admiral Nelson lost the sight in one eye during a battle (the siege of Calvi) and an arm due to a severed artery which necessitated immediate amputation (Battle of Santa Cruz de Tenerife), he was like many of our historical statues, a ‘war hero.’  Personally, I find the sculpture of Alison Lapper a salute to ability, not disability.  Alison Lapper’s statue was described by the sculptor Marc Quinn “as a ‘monument to the future, celebrating someone who has conquered their own circumstances, rather than someone who has conquered the outside world.”  You can read Alison Lapper’s story at the link above, the first post I made about the London visit.  Ms. Lapper represents to me the most indomitable woman–one who did not allow severe birth defects to dictate the kind of life she would live, including to become a mother and care for her child.  She is someone I see as admirable far more than I do someone whose strategy on the battle field is what earned the title hero and is seen as worthy of admiration.

Admiral Nelson shared a lot in common with Prince George/King George IV.  Nelson had been married for ten years when he began an affair with a married woman.  When Nelson traveled to London with her and her husband, she was pregnant with Nelson’s child.  Nelson “married” her by sharing Holy Communion and the exchange of rings prior to his departure for battle, but after his death she still died in poverty and destitution, have become addicted to alcohol.  I imagine plenty were willing to blame her for that, too.  We are willing to overlook those transgressions in men, and in fact, sometimes defend them, laugh at them, or even envy them–but judge women more harshly as evidenced by Warner’s description of Lapper’s statue on the fourth plinth as a charade, unworthy of being celebrated for her accomplishments when dealt a heavy load through no fault of her own, and yet still chose to live as fully as she could.

Apparently at the time, King George’s ‘transgressions’ were fodder for the British papers as I found many references and a large number of pages devoted to the stories of his trysts with women from the time he was 18 until his death, because “men require female companionship.”  It is also true that George IV commissioned his own statue, and paid for at least a portion of it; quite possibly the fact that his extravagant lifestyle and gambling debts tied up the statue for 13 years after the King’s death had some bearing on the matter.

A leader who incurs heavy debt, does not always pay his bills, has numerous trysts with women whilst married himself, treats his wife poorly, and fails to actually govern with greatness, statesmanship, and beneficence for the people he is sworn to lead…yet a story honored with public recognition.

 

Mama told me a lot…but she never told me there would be days like this!

Remember the song:  “Mama said there’ll be days like this, there’ll be days like this my mama said.”  (Thanks to suzieflamingo for the lyrics correction.) First off, I will just have to say I miss my mother…but since I seem to be turning into her, that may make it easier eventually.  On a hot Texas summer day, we were headed to Wichita Falls to get deck stain so I could re-stain the east and west decks of their house.  It was hard for Sis and me to keep things up, with all the caregiving for Dad, the 12-hour one-way trip for me to get to Texas, and Dad’s showplace had taken a beating.  Every time I went home, there was a long list of chores waiting for me in the barn, pasture, shop, or outside of the house.  Mom was still able to get around pretty well then, so I would usually load her up and we would head to “the big city” for lunch, supplies, and maybe a quick stop at TJ Maxx or Tuesday Morning.

I am sometimes overly sentimental, and a bit of a pack rat, and it was nice to look up this morning and see the last birthday card I had from Mom–summer of 2018.  Yesterday I was out in the yard, picking up dog poop in the “not as hot as it has been” heat.  It always kind of reminds me of being home, and mucking out Rio’s barn, or cleaning out his water trough–not the most fun things to do, but nonetheless, they are things that have to be done.  As I was stomping around the magnolia leaves in my wellies, the song popped into my head–Mama said they’ll be days like this, and for some reason, the follow up thought that No, she did not tell me that I would end up in Mississippi picking up dog poop… and deer poop.  I somehow never expected to have deer grazing in my yard, knocking down the bird feeders for seed.  If the deer cannot reach it, then the raccoons climb the tree, go out on a limb and take them down.  No matter that I put them on small branches that should not hold the weight of a raccoon, they can still find a way.  No matter that I tie them up with a variety of bungee cords, carabiners, chains, twisted wire ad infinitum, one or the other of them finds a way around or through.

I am fairly certain Mom never picked up dog poop, but she drove a tractor and plowed fields, wearing a big ole long brimmed sunbonnet, long sleeves, and gloves.  Mom was fair-skinned with red hair so she protected herself from freckles and sunburn when working in the fields with Papa.  I do not think she ever did that after she and Dad married, probably because she had 3 babies to take care of every day.

So here I sit on this day that marks 70 years of my having been on this earth.  Quite naturally, I am thinking of my parents, and the times through the years that are seared into my memories, but also, thinking ahead to those “uncharted” years still to come.  Yes, my mama told me a lot, showed me a lot, and in some ways, prepared me for the things she did not tell me about.  I suppose the one thing we cannot tell someone else is what their own life will be about, given that we have to construct that for ourselves unless we choose foreclosure.  And because I love the ability to make it up as I go, I have decided that today my present to myself is to do what I want to do, even if that is not doing anything at all.  Since I will be 112 eventually and still having to take care of everyone and everything, one day off should not upset the system that much.

 

About those statues…

I know we have all read and heard a lot of things of late regarding historical statues, and “erasing” history.  I am not advocating erasing history, nor am I advocating glorifying people and causes that should not be glorified.  It reminds me of a conversation I had with an elder white male colleague once during a conference way back in the 90s.  He said people needed to stop rewriting history–that just because you alter it does not make it still not true.

I replied it was not rewriting history, but rather including the voices of those who had been intentionally omitted from history…like women…Native Americans…Africans and African Americans…and kept naming.   It is not like there is an immutable history that is the only truth.  It is what is sometimes referred to as ‘standpoint theory’–that how things look depend on where one is standing while doing the looking.  It crystalized for me when I was reading Chinua Achebe’s Home and Exile.  He was describing an African proverb:

Until the lions produce their own historian, the story of the hunt will glorify only the hunter. (Today, the Balance of Stories, Anchor Books, 2000, p. 73)

A bit further on as Achebe is clarifying his position on the proverb, he wrote

The twentieth century for all its many faults did witness a significant beginning, in Africa and elsewhere in the so-called Third World, of the process of “re-storying” peoples who had been knocked silent by the trauma of all kinds of dispossessions (p. 79). ..in the final reckoning the people who will advance the universal conversation will not be copycats but those able to bring hitherto untold stories, along with new ways of telling. (p. 83)

I used Achebe’s book in a number of my classes for several years.  It is a simple book, a series of 3 of his lectures from the McMillan-Stewart Lectures at Harvard University in 1998.  I was struck by how he explained the impact of colonialism, and the importance of re-storying, what Walter Mignolo called decolonizing the mind.

I introduced it first in my advanced standing graduate class in spring 2014, as a different approach to address the social work values and principles that are foundations of the profession including challenge social injustice, respect the inherent dignity and worth of the person, recognize the central importance of human relationships.  Because social workers focus on work with vulnerable and oppressed populations, we prioritize equity and inclusion.  It can be difficult and fraught with strong feelings when introducing this to a group of new students who “just want to help people.”  This group of young women embraced the book and discussing it.  The class was a mix: Latina, African American, and white with no one ethnic group the majority.  They were thoughtful, insightful and truly, I had never had a class who could approach the topic of oppression and the impact on generations, without the anger, shaming, guilt, or feeling attacked that often shuts down the conversation.  My thought had been not only that I thought how Achebe approached it was compelling, but that to frame it from the perspective of the African story might help provide some new insight or clarity.  It did; students were able to make those connections from what happened when the first white man “discovered” Africa, and how the narrative has been shaped by that story throughout time since.  I believe that group of young women were unique–they were gifted intellectually because they qualified for the tough admission standards necessary to skip the foundation year and go into the concentration year courses.  One can only do that with an undergraduate degree in social work from an accredited program, and an exemplary GPA, critical thinking skills, and evidence of the ability to look beyond the surface.  I introduced the book in my fall foundation course the following year, and found the same response for the most part, and continued to use it from then on.  While Achebe was not a magic bean, it enabled us to approach the difficult topic of oppression and inequality from a different standpoint, and to “muddle through” how it has continued to impact our thoughts, behaviors, systems even until today.  It allowed a discussion and exploration of stories from different perspectives.  It is necessary not just to listen but to hear the story of the lived experience in order to be an effective social worker.  I think about that often when we discount and discredit someone’s lived experience.  To do so keeps us from being able to understand, which is essential for social work, and for that matter, becoming a more effective human being…thus the re-storying of the statues.

As I have run out of clocks, I discovered a trove of statues and memorials in the London photographs–most of which I know nothing about. (I did do a post on the statue of Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens earlier in the spring, and the Prince Albert Memorial, however, those were not about the untold stories.  I have a notion to consider some of the statues from other perspectives, not in an effort to deny or discount, nor to glorify and justify, but to seek what might be a different story and how it might impact how we think about history.  To do otherwise is as Achebe phrased it:

To suggest that the universal civilization is in place already is to be willfully blind to our present reality and, even worse, to trivialize the goal and hinder the materialization of a genuine universality in the future. (p. 91)

If we indeed are only one race, “the human race” then we ought to consider a story that includes all the stories, not just some of them.

 

Clock Redux: Time Passes

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It has been interesting to learn so much of the history of some of the places we saw in September 2006–our first, and thus far only trip to London not counting the two times we changed planes on the way to South Africa and never left the airport.  We departed Memphis on August 30, arriving London at 9 AM the following morning, and left for home on the morning of September 3.  All in all, we had roughly 2 afternoons for tourism site-seeing.

Although I posted on a few of the spots earlier in the year (January and February), along came March and COVID-19 and life was forever altered for all of us.  Though life and routine have changed, we cope and adjust, change what we can, and figure out how to deal with what we cannot.

Perhaps thinking about how long some of these buildings (and their clocks!) have been around, it gives us a chance for reflecting on perspectives–something I have had a lot of experience with since 2012 and my father’s diagnosis and descent into Alzheimer’s as Mother was losing her vision and hearing.  Just as I thought life might return to some semblance of ‘normality’ when Dad passed on November 2017 and Mother February 2019, along came March 2020 and  the fleeting sense of normal was no more.  I still count myself blessed and fortunate as time passes on minute after minute as it has always done even before we had clocks to mark time.

 

 

The Great Clock at St. Paul’s Cathedral

This is not the Great Clock–Langley Bradley’s “celebrated piece of mechanism…in the year 1708, in accordance with the instructions given by the great architect of the structure, Sir Christopher Wren” (The Nottinghamshire Guardian, Apr 2, 1869, p. 10).  Wren’s plans for the St. Paul’s Cathedral began in 1673.  Plans for the dome were done 1687-1708 and for the towers 1685-1710 according to the website for St. Paul’s Cathedral, which includes extensive drawings from Wren’s work.  Wren left large holes in both towers in order to hold a clock, and all manner of chaos ensued for the next couple of hundred years related to the clocks and bells.

A New Clock for St. Paul’s.

The great clock of St. Paul’s has, says the City Press, been taken down, and is to be replaced by one of modern construction.  The clock which was put up by Langley Bradley in 1708, is in splendid condition, and might to all appearance go on for  another two centuries without failing to bear accurate record of the passing time. (The Star, Mar 11, 1893, p. 1)

But, as usual, there is a great deal more to the clock story.  Heather Hobden of the Cosmic Elk provided a fairly detailed account of the clock saga in ‘St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, its Clocks and the ‘Facts Against Scandal’ account.  As early as 1716, a contract for a new clock with Messrs. Wright and Street was initiated.  They began the project in 1717, but 2 years later had “discovered what the wind from the Thames could do to a clock in such an exposed condition.”  In 1719, the Commissioners ordered panels installed in the vacant holes in order to keep out the weather.  By 1720, Wright and Street’s account was settled for “£500 plus Bradley’s old clock.”  This seems to indicate that Bradley’s clock was replaced?  The clock tower was restored in 1815, and Wright and Street’s clock “functioned with the weights above – same as Bradley’s (even been confused with Bradley’s clock in F. J. Britten’s Old Clocks and Watches” (Hobden).  Hobden’s research (originally published in Clocks, February and March 1979) was conducted with the assistance of Robert Crayford, Assistant Surveyor and assistant to the Librarian.  She provided a number of historic photographs and design drawings, and utilized the Fact against Scandal: Or A Collection of Testimonials, Affidavits, and other Authentick [sic] Proofs…Frauds and Abuses at St. Paul’s.  It appears that this indicates replacement of Bradley’s clock and that Wright and Street’s clock had been erroneously claimed as Bradley’s subsequently?

Time passes…and in 1893, it looks like a new clock (or another new clock?) is in the works.  The Westminster Budget reported that the Bradley clock of 1708 had disappeared, with the illustration below.

The Westminster Budget, Mar 17, 1893, p. 7

There is something wanting about the top of Ludgate-hill…the big clock has disappeared from the left-hand tower of St. Paul’s Cathedral.  Of course, the successor to the clock which Langley Bradley put up in 1708 is to be possessed of “all the latest improvements”; it will be an eight-day clock..

Hobden, however, reports in 1892, plans are made for a new clock, which was installed by John Smith and Sons of Derby…an 8 day clock, and the weights were hung “down the centre of Wren’s Geometrical Staircase, until 1969 when it was converted to electrical auxiliary winding. This was the clock we saw.”  One final mystery:  the empty clock face.

In Hobden’s work, she mentions the empty clock face and the open exposure of the clock works to the weather, and that you can see from inside the tower out across London.  She provided a photograph to illustrate.  I increased the exposure of my photograph, and sure enough, you can see the internal mechanisms.  While it seems unusual, I suppose since this clock has survived since 1893 (and it is installed on 3 of the 4 openings, it cannot have been that disastrous, even if the Bradley clock and the Wright & Street clock were said to have been victims of the “hurrican” [sic] winds of storms.  One might assume that the clock is still exposed to the winds from across the Thames and the winds at such heights.

The sundial at Church of St. Margaret

In another of those “I was here and did not know it” epiphanies, this passing shot of the blue sundials are on the tower of the Church of St. Margaret, previously where the House of Commons worshipped on special holidays.  The building partially visible to the left is the rear of Westminster Abbey.  As we traveled around London on the different busses, I never had a sense of where I was most of the time.  The complete phrase on the sundial face that is partially visible to the right is

Let the people praise thee, O God.

St. Margaret’s is a late 11th century (or 12th) church, but the exact date is unknown.  The date refers to the establishment of the church, not this particular building.  Due to its poor condition, in 1482 Robert Stowell began to rebuild the church, and it was completed in 1523.  The original clock was the work of Langley Bradley of London, and installed in 1712.  Bradley also built the clock for St. Paul’s Cathedral in 1708.

The clock mechanisms were removed in the 1980s and the sundials added.  The mechanisms survived and in 2019, the process of restoring the clock to the Tudor era tower commenced.  On completion of renovation of the tower (projected for October 2020) 3 sundials are to be renovated and the clock returned to the north side of the tower.  In the mid 1800s, there was much heated discussion about whether to “remove” St. Margaret’s from the Westminster grounds.  Those wishing to demolish the building cited its plain simplicity that detracted from the Westminster Abbey.  Others cited the vacant spot left would show a part of the Abbey not more attractive than St. Margaret’s and decried the expense of demolishing and rebuilding elsewhere rather than investing in some repair and renovation.  Fortunately, for whatever reasons, the decision was to leave St. Margaret’s right where it had been.

Additional Source:  Walter Thornbury, ‘St Margaret’s Westminster’, in Old and New London: Volume 3 (London, 1878), pp. 567-576. British History Online http://www.british-history.ac.uk/old-new-london/vol3/pp567-576 [accessed 31 July 2020].

 

 

My favorite London clock: Daily Telegraph’s “stunning jewel-toned” Art Deco

The former home of the London Daily Telegraph is a 1928 Art Deco building of Portland stone.  It features an Art Deco clock added in 1930.  The building was designed by Elcock C. Sutcliffe with Thomas Tait.   This was my favorite of all the clocks I photographed in London, and this picture has hung in my bathroom since I re-did the bathroom with pale blue walls–Icy Waterfall and ceramic tile that resembles the color of the building itself–a mottled biscuit.  The photograph below by Tony Hisgett gives you a sense of the overall grandeur of this building.

By Tony Hisgett from Birmingham, UK – Fleet Street 4Uploaded by tm, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=27908079

The 1928 Art Deco building replaced the former Daily Telegraph building and a new clock was not added until 2 years later.  Of the situation, The Guardian reported:

“Confound it,” said a man in Fleet Street to-day as he looked at his watch and found it stopped and looked up for the “Daily Telegraph” clock and found it gone; “where’s that confounded clock?” (Jan 11, 1930, p. 12)

Looking into the paper’s past, I discovered it dated back to 1855 when a Colonel Sleigh established it and subsequently sold it to J. M. Levy.  It was considered one of the major papers to bring news to “ordinary London people” (The Guardian, Dec 23, 1927, p. 8) and other newspapers on Fleet Street followed their lead.  The paper was sold in 1927 to Sir William Berry, Mr. Gomer Berry, and Sir E. Iliffe.  The building was renovated and a new clock installed.

The Observer, Feb 16, 1930

The Guardian, Oc 14, 1930

Westminster Arms, AKA Red Lion and Mossay & Company

After our visit to Westminster Abbey, we took a break at Westminster Arms.  I felt the need to try to British room temperature beer or ale, and a fish and chips.  It is always good when visiting to try something new, even if you do not think you would like it.  This building was another one of those humdingers of a hunt, and I did not find much at that.  The plaque above the signage indicates it was formerly the Red Lion, rebuilt 1913.  (Note, the 3 is not visible from this angle, but is from Google Street view).  I searched under every possible topic on the Internet and in the newspaper archives and turned up zip that led me to anything else connected to the earlier Red Lion.

It was the very picture of an English pub, with wooden booths that made for a cozy spot.  I kept going back and trying different searches with different wording and finally stumbled into a wikipedia entry that cited a London directory showing it was the home of Mossay & Company, est. 1913 at 9 Princes Street, for a business related to electric lorries.  The street was later renamed Storey’s Gate.  From there, I did new searches, but turned up nothing in the papers on Mossay or any of his partners, but the 2019 pubwiki.co.uk (also linked from the Mossay wiki article) indicated the earliest reference to the Red Lion pub was 1822, and that it was at this location at one point.  None of that shows up in the newspaper archives, although I could turn up a few items for 9 Princes Street, nothing in connection with Red Lion, Westminster Arms, or Mossay and his electric lorries.  This will have to be one of those mostly unsolved mysteries for now.  And now, it’s time for that beer or ale!

 

Westminster Abbey’s Clock Tower

Westminster Abbey’s current building was begun by Henry III in 1245.  The Gothic architecture was the work of master masons Henry of Reyns, John of Glucester, and Robert of Beverley.  The towers were unfinished for centuries.

Although the tower did not yet look like this, the clock on the North West Tower was made and installed by John Seddon in 1738 before the towers were completed.  The clock originally had only an hour hand, which was quite common for tower clocks during that time.  Christopher Wren took up the case for completing the towers, which were of different heights, but he died prior to being able to carry it through.  Nicholas Hawksmoor designed the last phase of the Abbey, the West Towers of Portland Stone.

The clock movement was replaced in 1861, but the dials and single hour hand retained.  The exterior of the building has been restored and re-faced with different stone several times over the years, with the most recent in 1973-1995.

Coronations of kings and queens have been held here, and many well-known people are buried here.  It was interesting to me to learn it is the final resting place of Stephen Hawking, the British theoretical physicist.  There is also a statue of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in a section of the church dedicated to the “modern martyrs.”

Source for information: Westminster Abbey, About the Abbey, History/architecture.

St. Peters Eaton Square

Along the route from Victoria Station to Buckingham Palace sits St. Peters in Eaton Square.  The doors are bright red.  It is listed as a grade II building by Historic England, who report this building of yellow stock brick, ashlar, and stone dressings was rebuilt by Charles Jearrad and J. H. Hakekill in 1837 after the first building was burned.  In the neoclassical style, it showcases ionic columns, pediment, and a clock tower with a clock on each face of the tower.

Drawn by Thos. H. Shepherd. Engraved by Thos. Dale. – Published by Jones & Co. 3, Acton Place, Kingsland Place, London., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7973010

The 1837 church was rebuilt to the specifications of the original constructed 1824-1827.  In October 1987, an arsonist set fire to the church, thinking it was a Roman Catholic building.  Only the shell of the building survived; the roof, interior, and most furnishings were destroyed.  Once again, the church was rebuilt, this time with a much simpler interior by the Braithwaite Partnership (Wikipedia).  Work began in 1990 and was completed 1991.