Wes Streeting wrote an autobiography a few years ago, which given recent events may turn out to have been somewhat premature. In it he recounts his turbulent childhood in Tower Hamlets and subsequent political awakening, with rather more on the former than the latter. Wes's Dad was from a longstanding Bow family based just off Roman Road, while his Mum spent her earliest weeks in Holloway Prison before her family moved to Stepney Green. I nipped up to 46 Armagh Road where his paternal side originated but Tower Hamlets council demolished those terraces 50 years ago so no luck there.
However the book contains enough detail to identify several homes Wes lived in locally, all of which are still standing, so I set off on what can best be described as a Wes Streeting orienteering exercise. Starting here.
This former workhouse infirmary lurks round the back of Queen Mary University up Bancroft Road. Wesley Paul William Streeting arrived on a Friday lunchtime after a lengthy labour, the relationship between his parents already teetering. The name Wesley came from Wesley Jordache, a character in the 1976 American mini series Rich Man Poor Man. As for his middle names Paul was Mum's brother (who'd died aged six while walking alone to the shops in Brockley) and William was the name of both of Wes's grandfathers, two gentlemen very much chalk and cheese.
First stop after ten days in maternity was Wes's Dad's home, 200 yards up Bancroft Road. The Streetings had lived here since the demolition of Armagh Road in 1976, a two-bed maisonette on the third and fourth floors of a typical Tower Hamlets block. In those days it was possible to nip upstairs without accessing a security gate. Today the family nextdoor display a Palestinian flag on their balcony, a bit further along is the cross of St George and the residents of number 18 have simply hung a 'Home' roundel on their replacement PVC door. This particular granddad Bill was a smartly suited man who volunteered with the Scouts and also a strong supporter of Margaret Thatcher, even if he never bought his council house.
This was the home of Wes's other grandparents and the first place Wes and his Mum made their home. Wes slept in a drawer from the dresser for the first few days. This is borderline Wapping, at the far western end near St Katharine Dock and the former Royal Mint. It's also a proper redbrick council house, not a stacked flat, on a small characterful estate of little alleyways, green spaces and private parking lots. It even still has the off-red Wapping Neighbourhood signs the Liberal Democrats introduced in the late 1980s, admittedly now very faded but I don't think I've seen a full set like this anywhere else.
Nanny Libby was very much the Labour supporter, a campaigner for social justice and a foundational political influence. Grandad Bill on the other hand was an East End rogue who knew the Krays and undertook a number of armed robberies while wearing a rubber mask and wielding a shotgun. He spent a lot of time in prison, so much so that Wes often didn't see him for a year, and wasn't averse to stealing a car just to drive the family to the seaside. Nan had only been to prison once but shared a cell with Christine Keeler and the two remained friends afterwards. If Wes's life story ever makes it to a biopic, there'd be plenty of meat to it.
When Wes's parents decided to make a go of their relationship they wangled a council maisonette in Stepney. It's so close to the Royal London Hospital that you can see the blue tower and helipad at the end of the road, not that either were there in the 1980s. Clichy House is a very typical Tower Hamlets block - 24 flats with zero individuality, a row of lockups out front and either a tiny garden or a teensier balcony depending on which floor you're on. All the blocks round here were given names with a French theme. Alas the family soon ended up in debt and the couple split, so Wes grew up here with a single mother eking out a living as a silver service waitress, or whatever was going. Only once did armed police raid the flat looking for Wes's grandfather - an indignity no previous Prime Minister has suffered.
Wes's first school was a small four-classroom affair close to St Dunstan's church and Stepney City Farm. It's well-fenced these days, substantially shielded by a massive boxy academy and accessed down an odd leftover of a cobbled street. Wes loved dressing up and reading Ladybird books, and hated not being able to buy sweets on the way home because his family was skint. For primary school Wes hoped to go the the local church school but, scuppered by not actually being Roman Catholic, ended up trotting down to St Peter's in Wapping instead. Here he was a bit of a swot, enjoyed acting, met his best friend Luke and was pushed by headteacher Mrs Dodd to get a place at Westminster City for his secondary education. The school is still used as a polling station and it may encourage Wes to hear that St Katharine's & Wapping was the only ward in Tower Hamlets to return two Labour councillors last week.
In 1994 the Streetings were shifted to yet another maisonette in yet another council block, this time a massive one. At least it was on the ground floor so had a garden, not that you can do much in five metres by three, and also central heating so very much a step up. Council flats were always let empty in those days so a lot of time was spent adding carpets, wallpaper and appliances, also the electricity meter couldn't be fiddled so power cuts were now a regular issue. These days you can't get round the back without a keyfob, the abandoned Ford Transit outside is 'Council Aware', and basically don't head to mid-Stepney if you appreciate good architecture.
Wes's parents splitting meant he often spent the weekend with his Dad in Dagenham. Finally a proper two-bed house not owned by the council, although this being the Becontree estate it had been once. Finally a proper garden, finally a cul-de-sac he could play out in, and finally a chance to go to Sunday School like the good little boy he was. Around this time he got another brother, indeed he has five and a sister as a byproduct of several step-parents over the years. It's a bit scrappy up Digby Gardens today, not helped by the pebbledash nor the fact that number 5 has a skip outside with several doors dumped in it. Also the front door was open so I can say I've seen the stairs Wes climbed on Saturday evenings and that's no idle boast.
Dad Mark eventually quit his job as a shipping clerk to train as a publican with the Scottish & Newcastle, ending up running the big pub on Roneo Corner in Romford. After various housing issues Wes ended up living here full-time in one of the four upstairs bedrooms, with leftover Thunderbirds wallpaper and syrupy Coca Cola on tap. It meant a protracted commute to school but it was better than following Mum to Epping, Archway and ultimately Preston, also it was possible to snaffle profiteroles from the pub kitchen without ever getting caught. These days the pub doesn't bother opening until 3.30pm on weekdays and also has a Quality Seafood cabin out back, as befits a community that's fled from the East End.
Wes's biography doesn't give the location of his final teenage home in Upminster Bridge, and after that it's all working in McDonald's (Romford), going to university (Selwyn Cambridge) and entering politics (via the NUS and Redbridge council). But I'd seen enough on my safari to realise that this was one hell of a nomadic dysfunctional childhood, held together only by family members doing their best. By following him from Mile End to Stepney, Wapping and Dagenham, in council houses recent Prime Ministers would never have tolerated, the fact he ended up supporting Labour was never really in doubt. It's not yet clear if Wes has shot his bolt too early, or indeed has all the support he says he does, but if he does end up in Number 10 I really can't work out which of these very minor homes is best deserving of the blue plaque.
