Where the Streets Have One Name
Strand, Poultry, Minories... explaining our city's mononymic roads.
I defy you to walk through Leytonstone and not encounter some kind of roadside oddity. Happens to me every time in these parts. Last week, I chanced across a turning called Corbicum. Not Corbicum Close or Corbicum Road. Just Corbicum.
Deliciously odd. When you think about it, though, some of London’s most famous streets consist of just one name. Piccadilly, Strand, Whitehall… these are the Brazilian footballers of street names.
Why do some roads have one-word names? I don’t think there is any pattern. Some streets, like Piccadilly, have always been mononyms. Others are contractions. Whitehall is shown on the 1749 John Rocque map as White Hall, while Bedfordbury is Bedford Bury.
Then we have the curious case of The Strand. Pedants (including me) will tell you that it should be just “Strand” with no definite article, and this is how it’s written on all the street signs. But old maps show it as The Strand up to Victorian times. Adding a “The” is still common parlance because “Meet me on Strand” sounds a bit Yorkshire.
There is no unifying explanation of how single-name streets come about. It’s the same with mononymic people. Pele, Plato, Banksy, Adele, Fergie, the other Fergie, Bono and Erasmus would all give different reasons for their nominative minimalism.
Even so, I thought the topic would be a fun springboard for a spot of etymology. Below, I’ve picked out around 40 London mononyms and looked up their origins. Not all of them are obvious, and that includes Corbicum.
City of London
Aldgate, Bishopsgate, Moorgate: Ancient gateways into the City, whose names were coined in the Anglo-Saxon period. Aldgate may come from ‘Old gate’ or ‘Ale gate’, but no one is really sure. Bishopsgate is thought to be associated in some way with Earconwald, a 7th century bishop. Moorgate led out onto the boggy moorland to the north of the city. You’d be right to ask “what about the other gates?” at this point. These have not inspired single-word street names. Instead we have Aldersgate Street, Cripplegate Street, Ludgate Hill and Newgate Street.
Cheapside: Nothing to do with thrift. Rather, “cheap” is a modern spelling of the medieval word ‘chepe’, meaning marketplace. This was London’s premiere shopping street for much of its history. Eastcheap over near the Tower of London has a similar origin.
Cornhill: One of the tallest hills in the Square Mile (not that it’s particularly vertiginous), where once there was a corn market.
Crosswall: This street on the eastern fringe of the City is named most rationally because it crosses the old City wall. You won’t see any fragments here, but walk a block to the north and you’ll find a section in the newish City Wall at Vine Street venue. Or else head south to the courtyard of the Leonardo Royal Hotel and you can indeed cross through an arch in the wall.
Holborn: Most of this ancient street is labelled High Holborn. However, the eastern section in the Square Mile is known simply as Holborn. The street and area are named after a lost tributary of the River Fleet called the Hol-bourne or Oldbourne (a bourne is another word for stream).
Houndsditch: Literally, the city ditch associated with the dumping of dead dogs. The theme continues today. Houndsditch is home to an eccentric bench dedicated to a dog called Geoffrey Barkington (although last time I passed, it had been put into storage to allow building works).
Lothbury: This quiet street to the north of the Bank of England once rang out to the hammers and wheels of the coppersmiths. John Stow, writing in the 16th century, tells us that the din was so loathsome that the place became known as Loathbury. I’m afraid I’m not convinced, though I don’t have a better origin story.
Minories: Single-name streets have a habit of clustering. Minories connects to both Aldgate and Crosswall. Its name is crunched down from the Abbey of the Minoresses of St. Clare without Aldgate, which stood nearby until a certain bearded monarch closed down all the religious houses. Incidentally, my spellcheck wants to correct Minoresses to Miniseries. Judging by her world-weary side-eye, I think St Clare deserves one:
Moorfields: The land north of the City wall was historically boggy and moor-like. These fields, shown here on my colourised version of the 1550s Copperplate map, were only built up from the 18th century. Even now, large tracts such as Finsbury Square and the HAC grounds remain as fields.
Poultry: The eastern end of Cheapside was historically a place to buy fowl. It’s one of many food-related names in these parts (Milk Street, Bread Street, etc.). Cheapside and its environs were pretty much London’s first supermarket.
Queenhithe: A Thames inlet near Cannon Street station, and a small street which copies its name. The dock is truly ancient — probably Roman in origin and certainly used during the Anglo-Saxon period when it was known as Ethelred's Hythe. It gained its current name in the time of Henry I, when his wife Queen Matilda claimed duty on any goods landed there.
Walbrook: This short street tracks along the banks of the long-buried River Walbrook. How the river got its name is uncertain. It may come from Old English “weala broc”, meaning river of foreigners (perhaps a small settlement of Britons, in a city then dominated by Anglo-Saxons). Alternatively, it may simply be the brook that passes through the wall — which it did up near Moorfields.
West End
Aldwych: The curving Aldwych was built over slums along Strand in the early 20th century. Its name means ‘old port or landing place’, a reference to the old Saxon settlement long believed to have existed near this spot (which archaeologists later proved to be the case). In case you’re wondering, there was a ‘new Wych’ in the shape of Wych Street — a notorious slum street famed for its pornography, which was knocked down during construction of Aldwych. (Hat-tip James Potter for this addition.)
Bedfordbury: Like Bedford Square, named after the Earls of Bedford who held the land for centuries. Quite why this quiet street carries the suffix -bury, which traditionally means a place of fortification, is unknown. Perhaps the Earl was girding his western boundary against the oiks on the other side of St Martin’s Lane.
Kingsway: Built at the same time as Aldwych, Kingsway was originally to be named after Queen Victoria. She died during construction (coincidentally; she wasn’t involved in a crane accident or anything). And so the newly crowned King Edward VII had the honour of being memorialised by London’s blandest road.
Knightsbridge: One of London’s oldest street names (c.1050), and surely the only one to run six consecutive consonants. The ‘bridge’ part relates to a span over the River Westbourne, which still flows beneath Knightsbridge in a sewer — where the drum-shaped Park Tower hotel stands. The ‘knight’ was probably not a knight at all. The word meant ‘youth’ or ‘retainer’ in Anglo-Saxon times. Perhaps a bridge on which the young bucks of the day liked to hang out.
Piccadilly: Famously named after piccadills, the lacy collars that were fashionable in the 17th century, and sold from this street. I hate to judge, but this particular piccadill wearer looks like he’s prised his sharpened chin through one of my great aunt’s doilies.
Strand: The street signs omit the definite article, though most people would naturally say “The Strand”. A strand is another name for a beach or stretch of coastline. London’s Strand would once have tracked closely to the Thames but the construction of the Embankment and large intervening buildings today make the connection less apparent.
Whitehall: The Palace of Whitehall was once the chief royal residence in the capital, until it was largely destroyed by fire in 1698. Parts of the building were made of white stone, hence the name. The main road through the site took its name from the Palace, not the other way around.
Further out
Dozens of further examples can be found in Greater London. I’m not going to list them all. Many are dull, like Parkway or Westway or Queensway, and we’ve all got better things to do with our time. Instead, here are a handful of more interesting examples. Please do suggest your own in the comments below.
Aeroville (Colindale): The name will suggest one of two possibilities to British readers: a small town with connections to aviation, or a small town with connections to an aerated chocolate bar. It is the former. Aeroville was an estate built in 1917 to house workers at the Grahame-White aircraft factory. Some of the buildings survive, along with a short road called Aeroville.
Ashen, Bradymead, Hide, Oxleas, Peverel, Stonewall, Warwall, Wheatfields (Beckton): A whole cluster of one-name streets near Beckton DLR. They were apparently suggested by Newham’s local studies librarian Howard Bloch, who wanted to resurrect medieval field names and features from the local area. If, half a millennium hence, a future librarian should want to bring back the names of contemporary Beckton features for a new estate, then expect streets called “Settlement Tank”, “Sludge Pump”, “Desalination” and “Gasometer”.
Butterwick (Hammersmith): Deceptively rural appellation for the throbbing artery of traffic that loops around the east side of Hammersmith bus station. It’s named after the long-vanished Butterwick House which stood nearby from the 16th century. For anyone in need of a childish smirk, the mansion seems to have been nicknamed Buttrix.
Castelnau (Barnes): This is the main north-south route through the Barnes peninsula, and also a label for the wider area. It is named after Castelnau in France. The 10th Baron of Castelnau fled to London in the late 17th Century, during the persecution of the Huguenots. The family later built a mansion in Barnes and named it after their old estate.
Coldharbour (Isle of Dogs): A very old route along the eastern edge of the Isle of Dogs. Even today, it looks ancient against a backdrop of gleaming tower. It’s here you’ll find the superb The Gun pub. The name Coldharbour is a common one throughout England and usually denotes a place of refuge in an otherwise remote location — which this very much was before the docks were built. The Isle of Dogs blog has an excellent account of Coldharbour’s history.
Corbicum (Leytonstone): This cul-de-sac’s unusual name derives from a medieval land owner called Richard Corbicum. His small parcel of land came to be known by that name but, by Tudor times, it had been rechristened Wallywood (remembered in the connecting Wallwood Road). The Corbicum name was revived in the 20th century by an historically minded mayor (Arthur Punshon) who insisted the short street should carry the single-word name of Corbicum. I don’t know why. But I do approve.
Downage (Hendon): Another ancient survival. Downage Woods were first noted in the 14th century, while a Downage House was built in the 18th. The modern street of that name is a parade of detached and semi-detached houses that might have served median-income families a couple of generations ago, but which now require a millionaire’s budget. Should be renamed Upage.
Dylways (Dulwich): I stumbled across this one a few years ago, and was immediately charmed by the name — so much so that I took a photo. Turns out that Dylways is one of several ancient spellings of Dulwich, and its original meaning was ‘meadow where dill is grown’. Confirming my observation that single-word street names tend to congregate, Dylways leads to the equally unusual Woodfarrs. According to the Dulwich Society, that name was a misreading of Woodsires, an earlier place name that had been written with a long, f-shaped ‘s’ in the history book used by the council.
Frognal (Hampstead): The route from Finchley Road to Hampstead is one I’ve climbed many times. I have never met a frog nor any other amphibian upon its slopes. The curious name comes from Frognal House, first recorded here in the 15th century and probably named after some posh bloke called Mr Frognal.
Hatfields (Southwark): This minor road near Blackfriars Bridge has a literal name. Hundreds of years ago, the fields here were used for drying animal skins, which would then be turned into hats.
Snowsfields (Southwark): Alas, not a field where people made snowmen. Rather, fields named after their erstwhile owner, a Mr Snow.
Straightsmouth (Greenwich): If you’ve ever taken the back exit/entrance to Greenwich railway station, then you will have found yourself between the narrow terraces of Straightsmouth. The name has been in use since at least 1819 (as Straight’s Mouth) but I can find no clues as to its origins. It leads to another single-namer, Churchfields (which was once Church Fields).
Phew… I think that will do for now. Please do add your own suggestions in the comments below — particularly if you live on a mononym. I’ve no doubt missed dozens of other examples.
Thanks for reading. Contact me anytime on matt@londonist.com with feedback, historical questions or random invitations to sites of historical interest.
This article was inspired by stumbling across Corbicum, but also updates an article we published on Londonist.com a dozen years ago, which is now clunky and out-of-shape.
Alfred Hitchcock grew up only a mile from Wallywood? I bet they didn't tell you that at the Cinema Museum.
Just back from Edinburgh where my aunt used to live on Pleasance, a street in the Old Town giving off Cowgate.