Several years ago I launched a project to save one of my ‘treasures’ from damage. I recruited a team of helpers – guardians – and in this blog I describe what happened. Importantly, the project fits with what I have been doing for years. 

I am always on the look out for interesting or unusual examples of architecture or design. If in my search I discover something that feels special, I adopt it as one of my treasures and not only stop to gaze at it whenever I pass by, but I am also prepared to look after it. And there is an additional element, when I am later gazing, I might well draw my treasure to the attention of others and, if they are interested give them some details.   

A few months ago I wrote about a treasured giant number 4 atop a local shop (see ‘A Most Beguiling 4’, 2 December 2023). This blog tells of two more treasures that I have adopted; one is a most impressive milestone, the second a modest but charming brass panel. I see them both several times each week as I walk through Richmond.

The milestone, which is three metres high and made from Portland stone, stands at the eastern end of Richmond Bridge. I love it for its imposing size, for its antiquity – it has been there since 1777 – and for its elegantly carved letters and numbers that give distances to eleven places seen then as important; so ‘Hyde Park Corner’ in central London (“8 miles”) or ‘Windsor’ (“15 miles three quarters”). Despite its size and history, over the years I have yet to meet a single passer-by who has even noticed this giant obelisk, or to meet anyone who has not been interested to hear about it. 

Quite rightly, this treasure is protected against vandalism. From its earliest days, words carved at its base read “Any person who shall wilfully deface or damage this obelisk will be prosecuted”. As if this were not enough, just over two hundred years later, the stone was listed by the Government as a structure of “historic interest deserving of special protection”.

Compared to this most secure milestone, my other treasured object is worryingly vulnerable – there is nothing whatsoever to protect my much loved brass panel from being damaged, or even stolen. I discovered it around ten years ago, and on first sight I loved how it runs unannounced along under the breadth of a shop window. There, in an elegant-but-modest font is the punched out name ‘A B Abbette’ plus the designation – ‘Bakery’ (see illustration). Moreover, since the panel will have been there since the bakery was built between 1850 and 1890, it is around 150 years old!

I soon became worried that the panel would be damaged or stolen, but I realised that working alone I could do nothing. With this realisation, around five years ago a project was hatched. Why not gather an army of guardians to watch over the panel and if anyone of the team saw it at risk they would do whatever was necessary to keep it safe.

Recruitment of guardians was very slow. When the opportunity arose, for example when I was in front of the window and someone who looked trustworthy walked by, I would first ask them if they had ever noticed the panel, and then, if they seemed sympathetic would tell them about its age and how I saw it as both precious and vulnerable. If they were still interested I would ask if they often walked passed the shop and if so I would briefly outline my ‘guardian’ project and invite them to join my anonymous team of individuals to keep an eye out for trouble each time they passed.

About half of those I approached and who listened to me – mainly women – have joined the team which makes nine recruits in all. One was originally reluctant, but when I met her by chance at our local supermarket some ten minutes later, she agreed to join. 

This strange alliance is based more on a dream than reality. After all, as Rohan pointed out, my helpers know nothing about each other or about me, I have no way of keeping in touch with them or checking out progress, and they were given no advice or instructions on what they should actually do if they spotted trouble! Nor do I know if my ‘gang of nine’ are still being vigilant. What I do know is that since the project started the brass panel has remained in place and unscathed! Despite all its limitations the arrangements may well have worked!

The illustration shows a photo of the brass panel punched with letters that runs under the length of the shop window in front of a one-time local baker; now an optician.

For help with writing this blog I would like to thank Alan, Rohan and Vivien.