The South: Dreams of Tomorrow How We Built Britain

This is a journey through Britain

to discover how a thousand years of history

has shaped the way we've built our country.

On the final leg of my journey, I'm travelling to the south of England

and the capital, London, to see how Britain was transformed in the 20th century.

Modern technology opened up a new world, changing the way we lived.

Breathtaking new designs altered the face of our cities.

We may not always have liked what we saw.

But we were prepared to take risks.

This revolution was at its most dramatic in the south of England.

The modern age is the age of the optimist,

always looking for news ways of living, willing to experiment even at the risk of failure,

making it one of the most intriguing chapters in the history of how we built Britain.

At the beginning of the 20th century London was the heart of a great empire.

But it was bursting at the seams.

Five million people were crammed into the capital.

Overcrowded and polluted, it was a breeding ground for disease.

But the capital, as it always had done, still sucked in newcomers looking for work.

People dreamed of building a better life for themselves,

of escaping from the crowded streets of the city

to a place with space and trees, fresh air.

And suddenly it all seemed possible.

'Please ensure that you keep all your personal belongings with you at all times. Anyone...'

A ticket out of the smoke to start a new life began here.

'..is now ready to depart, stand clear of the doors now please, mind the doors.'

The new Metropolitan Line stretched the underground network beyond the city and into the countryside.

If you'd been travelling this line in 1910, the view out of the window would've been quite different.

Instead of all these houses and factories it would have been rich, open countryside.

But the arrival of the railway transformed the landscape.

The Metropolitan Line Company not only bought the land and built the railway but called in the developers.

Between 1910 and 1933 the fields bordering the new line running north towards Buckinghamshire,

were sacrificed to street after street of new housing.

Four million new homes were built across the country.

The biggest house-building boom in British history.

It was a free for all, with developers

colonising virgin territory as though it were the Wild West.

The new suburbs were promoted by the railway which created them as "Metro Land".

'Mind the gap, please...'

In the 1930s, the number of people using this station at Rayners Lane,

grew from 100 a day to 10,000 a day.

The suburban commuter could claim that he, not the cockney, was now the true Londoner.

The gateway to the new Metro Land suburb was a lofty station.

Attractions included a stylish cinema.

No longer showing movies.

And a high street to meet every need.

Within a few years, a new community had taken root.

And they came to live in the brand new semis of Harrow Garden Village,

advertised in the Metro Land brochure as fresh and refreshing.

"A Reed house," it says "has a pledge of quality and after sales service, embraces features usually only found

"in more expensive houses. Whilst the excellence of the materials

"and the workmanship employed will be readily recognised by discriminating house seekers."

The annual catalogue of Metro Land was packed with ideas for the perfect home.

The styles varied but overall became known as Tudorbethan.

There was plenty to choose from, fake half timbering,

old-fashioned gables,

and modern bay windows for good measure.

'No house is quite the same - each has it's individuality.'

Here, after a day's work in the city, everyone could enjoy the feeling of being an English gentleman,

coming home to his country house, an instinct the advertisers weren't slow to pick up.

'Home again and free -

'free to enjoy this...

'How peaceful it all is.'

Or if you wanted a night out, there was always the movies.

By the early 1930s, every London suburb had its own cinema,

its Granada, Ritz or Odeon.

'In this modern civilised age, Odeon has become a household word,

synonymous with everything that is perfect in entertainment.'

The London suburb of Tooting was the setting for one of the most exotic picture palaces ever built.

-Evening.

-Ah, good evening, sir. Welcome to the Granada Tooting, the most spectacular cinema in Britain.

Thank you very much.

This lavish interior was the work of the Russian set designer, Theodore Komisarjevsky.

This is cinema as fantasy, a chance to escape from reality and dream.

And the cinema itself is the start of the dream, marble pillars and all.

Just look at what's in here...

A hall of mirrors,

colonnades down both sides, a flower-encrusted ceiling.

This isn't a South London cinema, this is a palace in Southern Spain.

To come into a building like this all those years ago would have been absolutely incredible.

Probably a bit like walking into Buckingham Palace or something now.

What did it mean to you to come here?

Well, it was the big treat of the week.

It was um...I think it was sixpence to come in or something silly.

But sixpence, when you've got four children to send is quite a lot of money.

And it was just the one big treat of the week. The only time you really ever did anything

apart from play on the streets or round the park or something.

For most children it was sort of mind blowing really, to come to the cinema

and to see those things, you know, that you saw on film,

different worlds different times. So it was the only chance to see the outside world.

Up to 3,000 people a night came to worship at the altar of the latest matinee idol.

You simply wouldn't believe it possible unless you come in here to look at it with your own eyes.

This huge, carved ceiling, for a start.

And then galleries all round,

minstrels playing in the arches there.

Damsels with those wimples on over there. A jester over there.

Huge doorways -

left and right, and then great stained glass windows, looking

as though the light's shining through them.

And then over there a huge wooden screen.

Today, the cinema has a different use.

Red 20, white 73, yellow 29, blue 49...

The Tooting Granada has been reborn as the Gala bingo hall.

When did you last win?

Oh, about five year ago.

Red number 1, blue 48, white 77,

blue 56, red number 7.

But one reminder of the old cinema days has survived.

ORGAN MUSIC PLAYS

That's fantastic.

Even some applause there.

Len, what, eh... This is the most beautiful organ, what date is it?

This went in with the theatre in 1931.

-Right.

-So, it's getting on for 80 years old now.

What was the idea? They come to come to the cinema, not to listen to the organ.

Well, in the first place they were used for silent movies.

The pianist wasn't able to fill the theatre with sound and an orchestra was too expensive.

-You mean they'd have had a, a film running and this Wurlitzer playing?

-Most definitely, yes.

-Can I have a try?

-You're welcome.

-I'm very much the amateur...

-Come and...

-I'd love to hear it.

-Come round.

-Oops.

-We have four keyboards for different sounds.

Where do you put your feet - up there?

-Yes, don't push them over, whatever you do with them.

-OK.

THEY START PLAYING

You're not in time...

-What?

-Yes, you've got three flats.

-I haven't got a flat there.

-Oh, sorry, you're up there!

-Yes, that's our problem.

You have to take it, I said that.

-I thought we were at odds with each other.

-You're on page two already.

-Yeah, I was on that,

-We've got an advanced student.

-I started there.

No wonder it was so awful. Right, let's try again.

-All right here we go, one, two, ready, go.

-...three, four.

THEY PLAY

-Ha-ha, that was pretty good rubbish that was.

-Well...

-# My love... #

-And into the big finish...

-Bravo.

-And we finished together.

-That's better.

While many of us were happy enough creating fantasies of Tudor England

or medieval Spain in our new suburbs, a few brave souls look to the future.

Ten miles out of London in Esher is the Homewood.

It was built in 1938, by architect Patrick Gwynne.

Fired by the new European idea of modernism,

clean cut with minimum decoration.

Gwynne created a functional machine for living in.

Like a classical building,

strict mathematical proportions were used for every element of his design.

These kind of materials had hardly been seen in Britain before,

concrete, flat roof, these huge glass windows.

Landing here in sylvan Surrey, it must have seemed like something from an alien planet.

Houses like this didn't come cheap.

The Homewood cost £10,000 to build, a small fortune at the time.

Gwynne's father called this a temple of costly experience.

Was he right?

Marble bench, marble floor, beautiful mosaic here, glass tiles, an innovation at the time.

Everything really carefully thought out.

And a staircase!

A spiral staircase, with this lovely zigzag marble again on the top,

ebonised hand rail.

Beautiful view down the spiral.

Fancy chandelier, everything else is rather simple.

We're on a sort of bridge, that side are all the bedroom, this way the living rooms.

And the entrance is very grand these white leather doors.

Ah!

And this is the most spectacular living room.

Cosy it is not, vast, with this great wall of glass looking out onto the garden.

So you actually feel you're almost outside, except of course you're protected here on the inside.

But all light and space, not cluttered.

All carefully designed by him to suit his own precise needs.

A home like this is a give-away.

It tells you what its owner was like,

meticulous and neat.

And like all modernists, he couldn't resist a nice gadget.

Record player up here, everything you need to kick start a good party.

MELLOW JAZZ PLAYS

VOLUME INCREASES

And behind here...

the cocktail cabinet with a cocktail bar that comes out.

Here?

Yeah...

Shaker - a perfect martini's the thing.

A good dollop of gin, just a touch of Martini.

Shaken not stirred.

Great... Perfect.

Everything thought of, a little...

table comes out there, for the drink.

Ah...

And take in the view of the garden.

A home like this was beyond the reach of most people, even if they had wanted it.

But the modernist dream wasn't only for the rich.

In the late 1930s, the south of England was recovering from economic depression.

It was time to enjoy life again.

In the pursuit of sunshine and fun people came flocking to the seaside,

but they weren't coming for a dip in the sea, they were after something far more exotic.

In 1938, a spectacular, modernist pleasure ground

was revealed on the south coast,

the Saltdean Lido.

With it's sleek streamline shape and curved frontage,

it was the latest in continental style and sophistication.

Lidos weren't just places to come and swim, they were symbols of modernity,

of a belief in a healthier, happier, more egalitarian future,

a kind of Utopia by the sea.

'Summer is here,

'and all the papers are full of pretty pictures of prettily-costumed girls.

'Generally lots of girl and not so much costume.

'But the cult of today is that of the sun.'

Here the ordinary rules of society were relaxed

and people could let their hair down.

These places had it all, sunbathing terraces, cafes, water polo

and regular displays by the Women's League of Health and Beauty.

'This is the sort of thing that only goes to show what's possible, when you're both healthy and beautiful.

'All those in favour raise a leg.'

But Lidos weren't just about health, they were about sex and glamour too.

They provided the perfect venue for beauty competitions

with categories like, Miss Shapely Calf And Ankle,

Miss Lovely Legs,

Miss Physical Excellence.

-WOLF WHISTLE

-'Just look at these charming costumes.

'Our cameraman missed his last train back, but what an excuse he had.'

With their tiered fountains and giant diving boards,

they were also the perfect stage for thrilling spectacles.

'Now what about a dip?'

You must be joking, it's far too cold.

-What's it like today?

-It's lovely.

-Is it?

-I recommend it.

-Is it warm?

-Yeah, it's all right.

-Why do you do it? Why do you swim?

-I love it.

-Oh, lovely.

-It's energising, really.

-Why's it energising?

-I don't know.

You know, heat makes one ugh, while the cold makes me fresh.

While one part of Southern Britain relaxed,

another braced itself to face a nightmare.

Between 1928 and 1930,

mysterious structures grew along the Kent coast.

Strange shapes that baffled the locals.

These are quite extraordinary. I don't think, if you didn't know what they were, you'd have any idea.

They look like sculptures - mother and daughter there,

and then a great wall over there.

Huge reinforced concrete bowls.

And what they are is actually what they almost look like.

This big one is like a giant ear. I can even hear it echoing as I speak at it.

Hello!

Hello?

These curious creations were known as sound mirrors.

They were designed to collect and reflect the sound of

incoming enemy aircraft, so that the alarm could be raised in time.

The first versions were not very effective.

In 1930, a much larger and greatly improved model was designed.

A 200 foot long wall.

This wall is beautifully built, a very gentle curve,

mathematically calculated all the way up and then this great sweep around.

And the idea was that the sound would be reflected down to microphones

that lay along here at the bottom,

and they would transmit to a hut behind, a listening post,

where they'd be able to track exactly what was happening.

These amazing structures never saw action.

By 1939, when war broke out

radar had been invented and the sound mirrors were obsolete.

DRONING OF PLANES

In the end, not even radar could save Britain from German bombing raids.

The nightmare had become reality.

The South was worst hit.

The London Blitz alone killed 43,000 people and destroyed over a million homes.

Conditions in London became unbearable.

The homeless joined those sleeping in the Underground, or took refuge with relatives.

When the devastation of the war ended,

housing the homeless became the Government's first job.

And this was their answer, houses constructed in a factory

and assembled on site, prefabricated.

What everyone came to call the prefab.

In the two years after the war,

157,000 thousand prefabs were assembled across the country.

Instant homes, with priority given to returning servicemen and their families.

'There's nothing like seeing your own house built while you wait.

'And what's nicer than to sit and dream of the future.'

One of the largest surviving prefab estates is in Catford, in South East London.

MUSIC: "On The Sunnyside Of The Street."

One of the first residents to move in was Edmund O'Mahony, just discharged from the forces.

-Hello.

-Hello.

-Can I have a look around?

-You can by all means, come in.

-Thank you very much.

Oh, nice and warm in here.

-The sitting room.

-What did you think when you first came in here?

It was heaven. My wife was amazed.

Loads of cupboards, cupboards and drawers everywhere.

'Plenty of built-in cupboards are a welcomed feature.'

Did it feel very modern to you?

Absolutely, I hadn't seen anything like it before.

You know, come and have a look at the kitchen, I'll show you.

'The kitchen is equipped with wash copper, fridge and electric cooker.'

All the cupboard space you've got.

Everywhere you look - the working tops, the stove. There was actually a gas boiler here.

'Thank goodness for this modern kitchen, where everything is to hand when you want it.'

The sink, the gas stove, a fridge.

'A super refrigerator, illuminated and with a door that opens to the touch of a pedal.'

And a table that went back into the wall.

'A hinged breakfast table is a space-saving idea.'

If I go out for the day, I look forward to coming home. I love this place.

Well, thank you, thank you very much indeed.

Oh, well, you're more than welcome.

In 1951, London was the setting for one of the biggest parties that Britain had ever seen

and everyone was invited.

It was an attempt to lift the spirits of the nation.

'This is a festival, a diverse place of serious fun and light-hearted solemnity.'

Over there, on the south bank of the River Thames was the site of the Festival of Britain.

I remember it so well, I was 13 at the time, I think. I went with my mother and father.

The whole of the river bank was covered.

It's just the Festival Hall left now, with buildings and displays.

And the whole place was sort of fresh and colourful,

and gave you the feeling that the future was going to be good,

that the war was over and everything had changed now and we were on our way.

The Festival was a showcase of cutting-edge technology

and brilliant new architecture and design.

It gave the British public a tantalising taste of what lay ahead.

The Festival's message was clear.

We should look forward with confidence.

What the future might look like was revealed in 1957 in Bethnal Green, East London.

Keeling House was designed by Denys Lasdun,

a bold and radical attempt to find a new way of living.

His idea was to recreate the East End.

Cramped and crowded streets,

would be replaced by a clean, fresh life in the sky.

For a time, high-rise buildings were all the rage.

But the novelty soon wore off.

Parents didn't like their children playing out of their sight, several storeys down.

And, to add to their misery, many high-rise buildings were poorly maintained.

In 1968, there was a was a major setback for tower blocks.

Ronan Point collapsed like a house of cards killing four people.

The vision of how we might all live had turned sour.

Keeling house itself was abandoned and was going to be demolished, like many other high-rise blocks.

But a developer came to the rescue, restored the building,

gave it proper security, and it's now a serious des res.

-Hi, there.

-Hi.

What a fantastic view.

Thank you.

Where can you see, from where to where, London Eye.

London Eye, yes, you can see it.

-There, brilliant.

-Yeah, pretty good view.

-What's it like living here?

-It's great, I love it.

-It's really nice.

-What do you like about it?

What don't I like about it, is probably easier, em...

The views of course, the style of the flat...

I used to drive past it, before it was refurbished six years ago.

It just looked absolutely awful, derelict and atrocious.

People just thought, "Let's pull it down, it looks so ugly."

What they've done, you never understood or appreciated what could be done to it.

When they did it, it was like - wow! Is that the same place?

The architects never really understood why the tower block didn't catch on.

After all they worked in New York.

They worked in Europe. They worked in the Far East but never in Britain.

Maybe it's because we don't like living end on end.

We like to have our own front door in the street and a backyard or back garden.

Or maybe it's because they were never property looked after.

The lifts didn't work. The hallways were filthy. They were dangerous.

When you get a tower block like this that is properly looked after,

has a fence all round it, a concierge sitting here, people seem to love it.

High-rise flats may have come in and out of fashion,

but one tall building still stands as a reminder of the spirit of the times.

The Post Office Tower.

With its radio waves beaming out the message of white-hot technology,

the tower was a symbol of the new age that was upon us.

'Today the whole field of telecommunications is expanding as never before.'

Soaring into the air, it transformed London's skyline

and set the record of the tallest building in Britain.

'The Post Office Tower, the tallest of them all.'

Opened in 1966, it seemed to capture the spirit of the '60s,

and became an instant hit with the public.

'Suddenly London had a new place to go to. A new attraction for visitors from home and overseas.'

In the first year, over a million visitors came flooding in here.

It cost just one penny to go to the viewing galleries at the top and see all over London.

And if you had a bit more to spend, you could go to the 34th floor.

'Doors opening.'

-Ah, morning, can you take me to the 34th.

-Certainly.

-Thanks.

'Lift going up. Doors closing.'

'These high speed lifts climb at a thousand feet a minute.

'If you're not used to vertical take off, there's always a first time.'

Um...nice whoosh, acceleration.

Whoosh, 30 seconds later, the top of the tower.

I haven't been up here for 30 years.

The most wonderful view all over London.

And this was the Top Of The Tower Restaurant.

Here you sat in splendour looking out over London

and had a most delicious lunch. Let's see what's on the menu...

'520 feet high, it's haute cuisine and then some.

'Here a staff of 38 work on each meal,

'producing dishes to impress the most fastidious gourmet.'

All in French - huitre, oysters, caviar, foie gras,

quite expensive too.

The Post Office Tower became the smart place to eat,

as London tasted the new delights of the Swinging Sixties.

But the real attraction of the Top Of The Tower wasn't the food and the drink.

It was a little gimmick they had, I'll show you...

The whole restaurant

revolved round the central tower.

You see my feet and where I've put them?

So, as you sat eating, London passed before your eyes.

'The restaurant revolves once every 25 minutes.

'And as course follows course, so the panorama changes.'

And the thing I remember is that after a little bit,

you began to feel queasy. In fact I'm beginning to feel queasy today.

And look how far I've travelled!

A technological device too far.

'Crossing from the stationary to the moving part of the restaurant presents no problems,

'but for waiters it's sometimes a puzzle to find the customers,

'whose table has moved since the waiter took their order.'

Aaah! Uh...

The Post Office Tower pointed the way forward for modern Britain,

but it was nothing to what followed, in London's traditional financial quarter,

the square mile of the City.

Thanks very much.

In the 1980s, something extraordinary happened to the square mile,

and it was to have a dramatic effect on the city's skyline.

When the rules of the money markets were loosened in 1986,

this part of London was transformed, it was called the Big Bang.

As new money flooded in, new buildings shot up.

Here at the Lloyds Building in London is one of the most striking buildings put up in the 1980s,

but even here some of the old traditions survive.

Is it true I'm not allowed to go in without a tie?

That's correct, sir. We do have a dress code.

You have a dress code.

You build a modern building... and then you have very old-fashioned habits.

Rules are rules, sir, unfortunately.

Lloyds Insurance began life in a coffee house over 300 years ago.

It now makes a very modern profit of ten million pounds a day.

Well, this is the main underwriting floor, this huge space,

where all the real work is done.

My goodness, look at this.

This vast open space.

People sometimes liken it to a cathedral.

This great high tower, 200 feet of glass, with its dome glass roof.

Of course to get the best view, you have to go up.

It's a breathtaking sight.

So long as you've got a head for heights, you can see right down to the underwriting floor.

Tiny people going up on the escalator.

And these great concrete columns rising up to the top of the roof

and the steel framework that holds the whole building together.

And the magical thing is, it's all open plan, everywhere you look.

All the things that are normally inside a building, in this building have been put on the outside.

It looks like a building on a life support system,

with all these pipes and tubes providing air and power and warmth,

and taking away the waste.

It leaves the inside space empty, for the owners to use as they like.

Its distinctive exterior made Lloyds a beacon of all that's modern in the City.

It seemed unchallengeable.

But three years ago it got a neighbour - a new kid on the block.

And like all new kids on the block it threatened to knock the old one off its perch.

The Gherkin was designed by Norman Foster.

He and Richard Rogers, who built Lloyds

are Britain's two top architects, and boy, do they compete.

It's an extraordinary building,

squeezed in, with all these buildings around it,

and able to do that, because it's an astonishing feat of engineering.

It looks like a kind of balloon, tethered at the bottom and about to float up.

Wherever you are in the city of London you see the Gherkin.

And everyone has an opinion on it.

Can I just have a quick word?

I just want to know what you think of the building.

-Well, statuesque.

-Statuesque, do you like it?

Yes, interesting new design for the area.

-It's unique.

-Yeah, I think there's a better one in Barcelona.

HE SPEAKS SPANISH

What do you think it looks like?

Not quite a gherkin.

It looks like a big artillery shell.

Eh...pickle?

Well, it's like a rocket, you know.

Depends how rude you are really.

It could be, to suggest it could be a bit rude, yeah.

Can I say it before the watershed or...?

Just a stone's throw away from the world of international finance is Brick Lane.

London has been transformed by people from around the world coming here to make a new life for themselves.

And with them have come new tastes, new fashions.

And now even new buildings.

The Shri Swaminarayan Hindu temple in Neasden

is the most astonishing example of a building

we might never have expected to see in our midst.

Made out of 2,000 tons of marble and 3,000 tons of limestone,

it was all hand carved in India

and then shipped to London to be assembled on site.

The largest Hindu temple outside India,

and I suppose you could say the world's largest prefab.

You come in, with the sound of the traffic outside,

into this completely quiet, peaceful place

with brilliant carving everywhere, the marble...

rich marble carvings, dancing figures, the gods, the pillars.

These great archways.

And then the great dome,

all carved marble.

And it's made completely without anything holding it, just locked together like a jigsaw.

Quite astonishing, here in the middle of London.

LOUD NOTE PLAYED

-What do you think of the building?

-It's very nice.

-Beautiful.

Is it? What do you like about it?

-I like all the detailing.

-Detail and decorate...

-Statues.

It's really good because, like it's, it's like impossible.

You think how can it just be hand made.

-Come on, one at a time.

-Me, me, me.

No, wait, wait, wait, go on.

Because it's like impossible how... it, to imagine people doing this on,

-by their own doing one big piece.

-By hand.

-By hands.

-It's amazing how they stay together without falling.

-Yeah.

How do you think they do?

-Magic, magic, cement.

-Cement.

-Are any of you Hindu?

-Me.

-You are. So, do you come here?

-Yeah.

-A lot.

-Are you Hindu?

-No.

-What's...

-I'm Muslim.

-You're Muslim.

-Yeah.

-You're Muslim and he's Hindu and he's... Have you taken him to a Muslim mosque?

-No.

-So are you planning to take him to your mosque?

Well, you should do. THEY LAUGH

'..If you do not touch down with your Oyster, then you will pay the maximum cash fare...'

Some of the most dramatic new additions to the capital can't be seen from the street.

Oh, my God, expensive.

For some of the best architecture and engineering of our time,

you have to descend into the bowels of the London Underground.

I love this bit, Westminster Tube,

as you go down, these great - well, tubes over the top,

and there's movement everywhere

escalators backwards and forwards, 17 escalators going

more than a hundred feet, deep down into the earth.

and it's like some high tech subterranean city they've created.

Westminster is one of 11 new stations that opened up

in the 1990s, as part of the new Jubilee Line extension.

'The next station is Canary Wharf,

'change for the Docklands Light Railway.

'This station is Canary Wharf...'

Canary Wharf is a station of unbelievable grandeur.

All this just to get people off their trains and up to ground level.

This is the most lovely station, spacious, airy, clean curves, light,

real trouble taken over all the detail.

Each day, thousands of commuters squeeze through these ticket barriers

heading for their offices in the engine rooms of 21st-century business.

When the old streets of the city became overcrowded with new buildings, the money moved east,

transforming the old docklands into a mini Manhattan.

Out went the old warehouses and barges,

in came New York-style sky scrapers.

Canary Wharf, with no history,

is now the old city's rival - a triumph of energy and efficiency.

This is where the power now lies, no longer with the Church,

no longer with the politicians but with these giant corporations.

And these are their shining temples - the buildings of our age.

Arrogant buildings thrusting themselves on us.

But how many will survive to take their place alongside those of the past

and tell us the story of the 21st century?

We're living in an age of constant change, and our new buildings fit that pattern,

but they occupy a different world,

separate from our own more private lives.

Most of us live somewhere more like this.

After nearly a year spent travelling the length and breadth of Britain,

I'm coming home.

This is Polegate, a little town under the South Downs.

There's nothing very grand about Polegate,

nothing very beautiful about Polegate,

but it's my home town and I like it.

It's one of the thousands of towns and suburbs in Britain

that the architects never visited, and the planners overlooked.

There's been no attempt at style in Polegate

which gives the town a style all of its own.

Polegate's not exactly swinging

but it's a friendly place with some good shops.

This is one of the best shops in Polegate. You can get everything here.

You can get...hooks and eyes and things singularly.

You get brushes and brooms - anything you want.

-Sandra!

-Yes.

-I'm just saying this is the best shop in Polegate.

-Thank you.

When I first came here, I came to buy a little pot of paint.

I remember you asked me whether I wanted large, medium or Polegate size, what's Polegate size?

Polegate size means we don't want the tin too big because we might be dead before we get to the end of it.

It was a customer who said it, it wasn't my idea.

-Listen, I take Polegate size, but I plan to outlive it.

-OK.

-Thank you very much.

-Thank you.

-Hey, Nick.

-Morning, David.

-Morning.

-Are you having some chips?

-Yeah, OK.

-Go on, it won't do you any harm.

I know you like them.

Oh, hey, hey, that's enough.

-See you later.

-Cheerio.

-Take care.

-Hello.

-Hello!

-I'm all right, how are you?

-What are you eating?

-Chips, do you want one?

-Oh.

Can I have a bottle of champagne?

-Of course you can.

-Thank you.

-Just one?

-Just one, I think.

-You know if you buy two you get one free.

-Oh, don't do that pitch. Bye-bye.

-Lovely to see you.

-Thank you very much.

-Take care, see you next week.

Like so many places in Britain, Polegate is a mixture of old and new.

It all adds to the hidden charm.

There's a medieval chapel,

a Georgian mansion,

a bit of Victoriana,

and plenty of bungalows built in the 1960s.

The latest addition, on the edge of the town

is a new housing estate, which says a lot about what we seem to want.

Architects are always trying to persuade us to accept news ways of living -

little white concrete boxes, very efficient living machines, or villages in the sky.

But the truth is that most of us prefer, houses like this

with a touch of the Victorian or the Elizabethan or the Georgian in them.

It's as though we accept the modern for our grand public buildings,

for big offices, for theatres, for concert halls, for airports.

But when it comes to our own homes we actually prefer a taste of the past.

It just goes to prove the point that our buildings say it all.

If you want to trace the story of how we became who we are,

you need only look at how we built Britain.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd

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