Dirty doings down by the riverside

OUR gay florist hasn’t been seen for almost a month and I’m hoping he managed to make it down to Brighton before the lockdown.

I only mention that he’s gay because he plays it up as part of the semi-aggressive camp shtick he uses to deal with his customers. “Get your hands off my blooms,” is one of his favourites if a potential buyer dares to fondle the merchandise.

From the doorstep of his cupboard-sized shop in Shad Thames, he’s perfectly placed to follow the intimate inner lives of the locals. “That’s the last time I give HIM a blowjob!” he heard one elegant 30-something complain to her friend as she swanned past one day.

He’s thinking of writing a neighbourhood memoir on the basis of such encounters. His provisional title is “Shag Thames”.

The narrow cobbled street runs between converted warehouses that overlook the Pool of London. Dockers once rolled barrels across the overhead walkways that connect the two sides. They would be bemused to know the street now figures in the “most photogenic” list in London guides.

I think the florist may be on to something with his book if he manages to capture the slightly louche edge to the place, the expense account, hedge fundy feel of its restaurants, and the cool people, hot money breath that exudes from the riverside balconies.

The last working warehouse shut down in the early 1970s after the London docks closed. For much of the next decade, the empty buildings provided studio space for the likes of David Hockney and the filmmaker Derek Jarman.

Jarman lived for a while in one of the near-derelict warehouses during the area’s short-lived existence as an artists’ colony. He’s now got a blue plaque at Butler’s Wharf.

Then, in 1981, the big money moved in. A consortium led by Terence Conran won a bid to redevelop the warehouses for mixed use, which basically meant luxury flats upstairs and his expensive restaurants on the ground floor. The artists were squeezed out.

Conran and his mates wanted to seal off the riverfront for private use but thanks to a campaign led by the local activist Maggie Blake it remained open to the public.

Thanks to Maggie, who has a narrow alleyway to the river named after her, you can still walk past the restaurants and gawk at the suits on the terraces.

In its 90s’ heyday, Conran’s Pont de la Tour was one of London’s top dining spots. Tony Blair took Bill Clinton there once. The story goes that as they were about to leave, Tower Bridge was raised to let a tall barge through. Clinton’s Secret Service guys went nuts when they were told his convoy would have to wait: river traffic takes precedent over road.

It’s all a bit mournful these days. The restaurants are shut. It looks as if some of the city slickers may have headed off to their second homes or have maybe skipped bail to Spain.

Worst of all, though, there’s no florist, so we’re starved for local gossip until he makes it back from the coast.