This is Blythe House, a monumental Edwardian office block round the back of the Olympia exhibition centre. Swindon, the British Museum are off to Reading and the V&A shifted their repository to the Olympic Park... opening yesterday. New in E20: V&A East Storehouse Location: Parkes Street, Hackney Wick E20 [map] Open: 10am-6pm (until 10pm Thu, Sat) Admission: free Website: vam.ac.uk/east/storehouse Four word summary: explore the design archive Time to allow: an hour or two Storehouse, the place all the exhibits go when they're not on display, except in this unique installation they actually are. The location is the former Broadcast Centre at the top end of the Olympic Park where all the TV crews hung out in 2012, a humongous shed that's long been in need of a full complement of tenants. The V&A have now moved into the southern end, not the cavity where BT Sport no longer are but a separate four-storey space the size of 30 basketball courts, to use an appropriate sporting analogy. Look for the unassuming door up a sidestreet, easily identified yesterday by the half-hour queue snaking round the side of the building. It should be a lot quieter once opening weekend's over (plus it was well worth the wait). E5 Bakehouse, who apparently do a sourdough croissant to die for should that be your thing. No food is allowed in the actual Storehouse obviously, nor anything containing liquids so they've got to go in a locker too, and then you can head up the stairs through the protective double doors into, oh blimey. You wend in through the outer bank of shelves past a selection of busts, one probably Jesus, one likely Shakespeare, although none are readily identified. The ordered chaos of this archival stash is already becoming apparent. But it only fully hits when you finally emerge in the middle of Level 1, an open floor surrounded by walkways on three levels with five millennia of artefacts arrayed all around. Don't expect coherence, just go for an explore and see what you can find, and while you're here look down because below the glass floor is the Agra Colonnade, 18 tons of intricately carved marble from the height of the Mughal Empire. Essentially it's cultural overload but if you do a circuit of all three floors and also follow the multiplicity of dead ends you should see most of everything. There's a lot of furniture, this being something the V&A's well known for, including wooden chests, drop-tables, wardrobes, writing desks and every kind of chair. They stretch off along long shelves so you may only get a close-up view of some, and in the case of the grandfather clocks an entire room on the ground floor you can merely see the tops of. Elsewhere are a double bass, much glassware, a case of novelty mugs, an indigenous painted mask, two Olympic torches, a BAFTA, several archaic panels, a Calvert road sign, the boxes from a drum kit, Kenneth Grange's kettle, paintings of all ages, kitsch pottery, some kind of Spanish agricultural implement, multiple vases, and somewhere in a forlorn backroom what looked like all the toys and games they removed from the Young V&A in Bethnal Green when they updated it so children enjoyed it rather than their grandparents. big QR code at the entrance that leads to an index page from which you can explore all the chief pieces on each level. Why print stuff when visitors can do all the electronic legwork on their phone? However I couldn't get any of these QR codes to work, not a single one, because the mobile signal wasn't strong enough. Perhaps it was thick walls, perhaps it was Day One crowds, but functionally it was disastrous that the V&A were relying on a digital catalogue it was impossible to read. Tucked in among all this cultural hotchpotch are six special large-scale exhibits, some to be found in unexpectedly massive galleries at the end of an innocuous gangway. The biggest wow is either the Torrijos Ceiling, a 15th century gilded monster painstakingly transferred from Spain, or the 11m-high ballet backcloth of two cavorting women signed by Picasso in the corner. Two entire rooms have been incorporated, one the pioneering Frankfurt Kitchen designed by Margarete Schütte-Lihotzky in 1926, the other an intensely wood-panelled boardroom by Frank Lloyd Wright, the Kaufmann Office. Most obvious will be an entire chunk of Robin Hood Gardens, the Poplar housing solution otherwise now fully demolished, with two concrete panels adorning the central balcony, plus a stairwell and apartment somehow preserved behind. The Storehouse clearly has no lack of ambition. Brilliantly if you do want to get fully acquainted with a particular object you can make an appointment and a museum curator will let you get gloves-on, although you have to submit your reservation at least two weeks in advance. A few select objects are however chosen for daily scrutiny by a small group - yesterday a 1940s Pye Radio and an Edo period tea ceremony utensil box - check the noticeboard in the foyer for details. There's also a balcony on the top floor where you can look down into a conservation room equipped with washing machines, cutting boards and a table where staff can be seen carefully polishing a set of brass goblets, or whatever they're tending to when you drop by. Come back in mid-September and they should also have opened The David Bowie Centre where fans of the great artist can squeal amidst his archive....like everything else on site all for free. this page on the Storehouse website gives an excellent overview of what a visit's like, ostensibly for accessibility reasons. You might also want to look through the QR-coded index in advance in case it doesn't work on your phone, because the level of drill-down information is excellent, or else just turn up like everyone else and gawp and guess and grin.

One of west London's most important roads is 100 years old today, the Brentford By-Pass or as it's better known the Great West Road. Hounslow council are making a big thing of it. The new dual carriageway swept through fields and parkland to the north of Brentford and Hounslow, starting where the Chiswick Roundabout is today and ending eight miles away in East Bedfont. Brentford High Street had long been an appalling bottleneck for westbound traffic and planners recognised that the increasing popularity of the motor car was only going to make congestion worse. The new road was duly opened on the afternoon of Saturday 30th May 1925 by King George and Queen Mary who joined local dignitaries in walking along a short stretch and making speeches. You can see a few photos of the event here, here, here and here. This is what the Middlesex County Council spokesman had to say... "Of the numerous arterial road schemes promoted by the Highway Authorities of the country in conjunction with the Ministry of Transport, the road now to be opened is one of the earliest in its origin, the Act for its construction having been passed in 1914 to alleviate the inconvenience caused by the narrow western exits from London. Progress was delayed by the Great War, and the magnitude of the scheme has since been increased by an extension to the Staines Road, and by an addition to the width of the highway. Much work has thus been found for the unemployed, and it is hoped that the road in its present form will add to the dignity as well as the convenience of the Metropolis, beside promoting the orderly development of the County of Middlesex." [30 May 1925] The final section to open was the eastern end between Syon Lane and Chiswick which includes the section now known as the Golden Mile. Businesses flocked to this part of the new road, attracted by excellent connectivity and plenty of space, building factories that very much reflected the aesthetic of the day. One of these was the Gillette Factory, a landmark Art Deco building on the corner of Syon Lane whose lofty brick tower is topped by four neon clocks that can be seen for miles around. Not only was this Gillette's European headquarters but also their chief UK factory for the manufacture of razor blades, at least until 2006 when production moved to Poland and the place emptied out. The Gillette Factory endured several vacant years while investors decided no, arterial Brentford wasn't a great location for a luxury hotel, then creative types moved in and filmed a few low-key productions for lesser-watched streaming channels. It's recently been decided that the premises should become a full-on six-stage film studios, indeed Hounslow council are very keen, plus it makes sense because the site stretches all the way back to the rainbow-topped headquarters of Sky TV. When I came to walk the Golden Mile earlier this week I was pleased to see the scaffolding had been removed from the clocktower, the outer brickwork had been scrubbed up and that the cherubic lamps around the perimeter still glow. I wasn't impressed by much else though. Alas only a few buildings from the Golden age of the Great West Road survive. There's the Coty Cosmetics factory at number 941, a squat block with white walls and strip windows which looks like it could have been a 1930s air terminal, but which is now occupied by a tech-heavy private health clinic. There's the Pyrene building at number 981, designed for a fire extinguisher company by the same group of architects who conjured up the glorious Hoover Building in Perivale. It's very white and very long with a thin central tower, and is now an office block substantially occupied by students on skills-based courses who cluster on the elegant front steps for a vape. And there's also the former Currys head office at number 991, another sleek white beauty with flag-topped clocktower, which since 2000 has been home to outdoor ad agency JCDecaux. Their name was in the corner of the digital billboard in my first photo, if you noticed. Firestone Tyre Factory. Of all the buildings along the Golden Mile the Firestone was by far the longest, fronting a 26 acre site, but also the most rapidly undone. When the business closed in 1979 the new owners exchanged contracts on a Friday, then sneakily demolished the ornate frontage on the Saturday before a civil servant could get round to signing a preservation order. On the positive side this triggered the 20th Century Society to campaign more vigorously for the preservation of modern buildings, and on the downside the bastards totally got away with it. In 2025 the Firestone building is being replaced again, this time by "A New Iconic HQ Distribution/Logistics Warehouse". The architects have at least gone for an Art Deco-inspired design solution, although the artist's impression looks more slatted plastic than iconic glass and the currently reality is a half-clad functional lattice. If it improves the backdrop to the Firestone's surviving front gates and chunky lanterns, however, good luck to it. The really big redevelopment story along the Golden Mile is currently the transformation of GlaxoSmithKline's enormous ex-HQ, a futuristic upthrust which opened in 2002 on a landscaped site beside the Grand Union Canal. All the staff moved back to central London last year and the latest plans foresee a "housing-led mixed-use redevelopment" of tightly-packed polygonal towers, one 25 storeys high, delivering upwards of 2000 new homes. It's by no means the first Golden Mile site to pivot to boxy residential and it won't be the last. The best way to see the Golden Mile thus isn't really on foot because the surviving treats are too sparsely spread, it's from the road itself. I recommend boarding the road's bespoke red double decker, the H91, a route which conveniently runs along five miles of the Great West Road from Gunnersbury to Hounslow. For the first mile the M4 shadows the A4, quite literally, passing directly overhead on a four lane viaduct supported by an sequence of chunky concrete pillars. Only on reaching Brentford does the motorway veer off, bombarded by elevated advertisements, leaving the way clear down below to enjoy what remaining treats the Golden Mile has left. "The unavoidable transformation of the country surrounding London needs to be carefully guided and controlled. Haphazard growth has inflicted irreparable damage on many parts where, instead of preceding it, roads and communication have lagged far behind industrial development. Your council, I am glad to say, have boldly grappled with this problem, and this spared their successors the costly and wasteful experience of making new roads through congested areas." [King George V, 30 May 1925] To celebrate the 100th birthday of the Great West Road an anniversary website has been set up at goldenmile.london including historical links and modern stories. It is perhaps a tad commercial, overplaying the interest anyone might have in bold redevelopment visions and Brentford's vibrant cuisine, but it does include details of a number of special commemorative events. Chief amongst these are a GM100 Public Exhibition at Boston Manor Park this weekend (10am-4pm Sat, Sun; free entry) and a Classic Car Cavalcade departing Boston Manor Road at noon tomorrow before heading to Gillette Corner. Later chances to look inside some of the Art Deco treasures appear to be sold out, but all the good bits are in a new illustrated book The Great West Road: A Centenary History written by James Marshall and purchasable from the Brentford & Chiswick Local History Society. The road that unchoked Brentford and transformed Hounslow, the Great West Road, is thankfully 100 years old today.

I wouldn't normally feel comfortable sticking a score on a place after sampling just 2 dishes from a menu, but I will make an exception for the Knave of Clubs for two reasons. Firstly, they have put the rotisserie "centre stage" at one end of the large dining room and that is what, I imagine, the large majority of their visitors will be ordering. Secondly, I bloody loved the place, so I don't think they'll mind me writing about it even without trying most of what their kitchens can offer. We started, though, with oysters - an extremely reasonable £20 for 6 large, lean specimens supplied with all the correct condiments. In a town when the average price per bivalve is hovering around the £5 mark (and in some cases is well above that), it's nice to know that there's somewhere still offering value like this. The same sense of value is evident in the rest of the menu. They really could charge a lot more for a whole chicken than £38, especially given the quality of these birds (from arguably London's best butcher Turner and George), and even if they didn't come with a giant helping of sides. For your money you get loads of chicken fat roasties, a nice sharply-dressed green salad, some slices of baguette and a little pot of light, homemade aioli. All of this generosity would have come to naught if the chicken itself wasn't up to scratch, but fortunately thanks to the provenance I mentioned, plus judicious use of brining (not too salty but just enough to ensure every bit of the flesh is tender and juicy), plus a really lovely chermoula spice rub, the end result was a truly impressive bit of rotisserie - the best pub roast chicken I've had the pleasure to tear into in recent memory; certainly the best value. We absolutely demolished the chicken then spent many happy minutes mopping up the chermoula cooking juices with the slices of baguette, and for a while, all was well with the world. The bill, with a £32 bottle of wine came to £51pp - you really can spend a lot more than this and get a lot less, and not just in central London. In fact the whole experience, including the lovely and attentive staff, made me forgive the only real complaint I have about the place - bloody communal tables. But the spots are spread out around them quite generously, and actually just gives me an excuse to return and try the bistro-style One Club Row upstairs in the same building, where chef Patrick Powell (ex- Allegra) is really stretching his wings. I bet it's great. Watch this space. P.S. Anyone who subscribes by email I am aware of the fact that follow.it have started to be very annoying and not posting the content in the body of the email, just a link to it hosted by them. I didn't ask for this, and am not making any money from it. If you want to continue receiving the full posts via email, can I suggest you subscribe to my substack here, where you can opt to receive the full posts via email, for free.

Back in January I spotted an original 40 year-old poster at Leytonstone station. "I hope someone preserves it," I wrote, and what do you know they have! It now has a secure glass frame across the front and also one of the London Transport Museum's blue heritage posters alongside. This is a bespoke poster, specially devised for this location, showing three examples of what a Capitalcard used to look like. I'll only show you two, so as not to ruin all the delight if you go to Leytonstone and look. But how wonderful that sometimes creative cogs whirr and the unexpected is preserved, adding a splash of delight where you least expect it.