One of the interesting things about the aesthetic of the old, now demolished Westgate, was its reliance on strange, dark-brown bricks as a design element. It gave everything the bisto, jus, dark teak tang of the prestige 80s. The new Westgate is all fresh-faced greige dollhouse bricks, but across the road, a building built to the same vernacular lingers on, the HQ of a prominent lawyers, defiant in its once-smart brown brick and blind bronze-tinted windows. And off to one side it has a garden:
It's not great, is it? If it were for sale, the Estate Agent would be reaching for euphemisms - period design in place; in need of a refresh and modernisation. It's not for sale though. It's sold.
The new occupant, a Travelodge, is presumably aiming for a full rebuild, as I'm already hearing people griping about the height of the building. No word yet on whether this tree will survive. I hope so, it looks pretty busy:
as does the garden, stirring with the first flush of spring.
It's not great, is it? If it were for sale, the Estate Agent would be reaching for euphemisms - period design in place; in need of a refresh and modernisation. It's not for sale though. It's sold.
The new occupant, a Travelodge, is presumably aiming for a full rebuild, as I'm already hearing people griping about the height of the building. No word yet on whether this tree will survive. I hope so, it looks pretty busy:
as does the garden, stirring with the first flush of spring.
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