I came across this Morris Minor car on Elder Street in the East End of London, not far from Brick Lane.

I know this model well because I used to have one. Well, not exactly the same because this one is a convertible.

Look at the split windscreen, the wing mirrors, the rust.

The floor pan in our car was riddled with tiny pinprick holes that revealed themselves when we drove through a puddle. A fine mist would fill the car as the water was driven up through the floor.

This model rusted at the bottom of the doors. All cars rusted at once upon a time, but not any more. Galvanised steel and electro-coating have stopped rust.

The front wheels on these models are held on to the axles with a nut and a spigot with a hole in it that screws onto a vertical bolt. The thread on the nut had a tendency to wear and then the whole assembly would fail. it was especially prone to do so when going slowly around corners, as happened to us.

The garage repaired it but forgot to tighten the bolt. It sprang off and the wheel came off completely, rolling faster than the car. After a while the car lost balance without a front wheel and the car stopped.

The garage was unapologetic and came out to fix it with some reluctance.

Elder Street

Elder Street is one of those cobbled streets with nice Georgian Houses that are surrounded by modern buildings that are slowly advancing. The Morris Minor is the third car from the far end.

There’s graffiti, and then there’s graffiti. The rubbish tags in the carriages on the tube are just painful to see. It’s like someone’s only recourse to making a mark in the world is to damage something.

Graffiti in general exists on the margins. And Calvin Street in Tower Hamlets. between Spitalfields and Bethnal Green Road and Brick Lane is a marginal area. Look up behind the buildings and you see the looming modern office blocks and blocks of flats, circling and waiting for their moment to pounce.

The art on Calvin Street should be preserved, but it’s not going to happen. Sooner or later the walls will be demolished and the art will go. Meanwhile, these and others are here.

I have no idea whether they are derivative, copies from comic books, or whether they are original ideas.

I like the last one – it speaks to me and I hope it is an original idea.

This figurehead is in the gallery of the National Maritime Museum at Greenwich in London.

It is much bigger than life size, a half-length figure of Ajax the Great from the 74-gun Third Rate two-decker ship HMS Ajax.

It was built for the Navy by Perry’s Yard, Blackwall, in 1809 and converted to an auxiliary screw ship in 1846 and broken up in 1864.

Figureheads In Modern Usage

In modern usage a figurehead, as well as being carving set at the prow of a sailing ship, also means a nominal leader or head without real power.

I’d hazard a guess that an effective figurehead is meant to echo the qualities of the institution of which is the head.

And for a figurehead to carry weight it has to be recognisable to friend and foe alike.

Ajax, the figurehead on the ship is described in Homer’s Iliad as being of great stature, colossal frame, and strongest of all the Achaeans.

He is the only character not wounded in any of the battles described in the Iliad, and he is the only principal character on either side except for Agamemnon who does not receive assistance from any of the gods in battle.

So here’s a question:

Who, friend on foe, at the time of HMS Ajax sailing the seas would actually recognise this figurehead as a representation of the Greek hero?

Would the average sailor? Would the master and commander and officers? Would figureheads be known because there were not that many and they were all known?

But Then What Of This Figurehead

It depicts Harlequin, and was on the 16-gun Second Class brig-sloop Harlequin built at Pembroke Dock in 1836, which was converted to a coal hulk in 1860 and sold in 1889 to Marshall of Plymouth for breaking.

Harlequin (Arlecchino) is a traditional Italian commedia dell’arte figure, best known in Britain as a character in traditional pantomime of the late 18th and early 19th century.

So what message would that figurehead send to a foe?

Royal Museums Greenwich

The National Maritime Museum, the Cutty Sark, the Royal Observatory, and the Queen’s House are under the umbrella of Royal Museums Greenwich. And they are all close to one another.

The Queen’s House, as I mentioned in a post about the view from it to the City, is a 17th-century villa, designed by Inigo Jones.

It’s called the Queen’s House because it was commissioned by Queen Anne of Denmark but she died before it was completed. Charles I then gave the house to his wife Henrietta Maria as a royal house to enjoy herself.

We left the Maritime Museum after dark and could see the Queen’s House floodlit at the top of the hill.

Careen

Finally, we found out a second meaning for the word careen. Besides meaning to move in an erratic way it also means to put a ship on its side and scrape barnacles and seaweed off its hull to make it able to sail faster.