Stephen and Natasha Spender's house in Loudoun Road
Stephen Spender, the poet, and his wife Natasha, a classical pianist, lived in Loudoun Road from the 1940s with their two children Matthew and Lizzie.
Mother died on 21 October 2010 at eleven in the morning in her bedroom on the top floor of 15 Loudoun Road, the rented house in St John’s Wood where she’d lived for the previous 69 years. The house had been neglected since my father’s death in 1995. A large crack ran down the external wall the right of the front door. Squirrels nested in the roof next to the water tank. There was a sunken fosse outside the dining room, and ferns grew out of the cracks of the stonework and the atmosphere was dense, as much as could be seen through the iron bars to keep out the burglars. Ferns, and in the spring white flowers that nodded like tender bells, utterly Victorian, the fluttering spirits of so many dead babies.
[The house] stood at the head of long rows of terraces built down the hill towards Abbey Road. The view down the hill gave a feeling that the original wood of St John’s Wood was not totally dead. Mum could sit at the piano and look out at greenery and dream of nature.
My father’s study faced the front of the house and his work table stood in front of the window of crinkly Victorian glass. Against the wall on the left stood a tall glass bookcase with 2 handwritten signs on it. Precious Book Cupboard and Do Not Open (Dangerous Glass).
Up a steep staircase with wobbly banisters were three bedrooms: my sister’s, my parents and my own. The bathroom was decorated with yellow tiles dating from the twenties. My parents’ bedroom held a large framed mirror with, on the left, special brushes for Dad’s hair sold to him by the sadistic barber who sent him home every month with a different coloured rinse. Large framed reproductions of Blake’s illustrations to Dante hung on the walls. They were gradually replaced by water colours by John Piper, whom Dad knew from ages back. My bedroom measured eight feeet by ten, two built in cupboards, one Heals cabinet containing a diorama of my war toys lit by tiny bulbs imitating bursting shells. My sister Lizzie’s room was larger and looked south over the beautiful gardens between Blenheim Road and Marlborough Place.