Lost and Found Jewels: From Prague to Richmond-upon-Thames (via New York)

The annual Richmond Draw-Off is at an end for this year, and it’s been a spectacular one. The perfect note on which to end my final blog of 2025. It’s given me some fabulous finds, one in particular was very special, and allows me the indulgence of musing about lost and found jewels.

I’ve blogged about the Draw-Off before but, for those unfamiliar with it, it’s that time of year when the Port of London Authority (PLA) open Richmond Lock and Weir in order to carry out vital repairs. This results in some excellent low tides where, on occasion, it can look as though someone has pulled the plug on the Thames. This year’s Draw-Off has been longer than usual, beginning on Monday October 27th and ending on Friday 19th December.

The photo below, taken this year on the first day of the Draw-Off, Monday 27th October, gives a real sense of how low the tide has been and how much of the foreshore was tantalisingly visible, making the prospect of finds very intriguing. The foreshore here is hidden for the rest of the year so it’s a very special feeling to be able to step down ancient (and rather slippery) river stairs and search for artefacts.

Richmond Riverside during the 2025 Draw-Off. The foreshore visible here is under water for the rest of the year.

For those readers unfamiliar with this part of South West London, the London Borough of Richmond-upon-Thames is well worth visiting for its green spaces (home to Richmond Park, London’s largest deer park), scenic riverside walks and rich history. It’s the home of the long lost Richmond Palace, a stunning Tudor royal residence rebuilt and renamed by Henry VII in 1497-1501 on the site of the old Shene Palace, partially destroyed by a distraught Richard II in 1395 after the death of his wife Anne of Bohemia.

Only The Gatehouse and parts of The Wardrobe remain of the palace, though there is also surviving archaeology on the Thames Foreshore in the form of timbers from a jetty, carbon-dated to the late Tudor/early Stuart period. (Both The Gatehouse and jetty timbers are pictured below.) We also have surviving household accounts from Elizabeth I’s time here. Richmond Palace was thought to be one of her favourite homes and where she died on 24th March 1603. The Queen particularly enjoyed spending Christmas at Richmond, entertained by William Shakespeare’s acting company, the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, who performed for her and favoured members of the Royal Court.

Sadly, contemporary images of the Tudor Richmond Palace are few and far between. The best visual view we have is Antonis Van der Wyngaerde’s sketch from 1562 showing its magnificent riverfront, complete with pepperpot turrets and gardens, drawn from the north (Middlesex) side of the river at what is now St Margaret’s. After Charles I’s execution in 1649, Oliver Cromwell ordered Parliament to assess the cost of demolishing the buildings and it was sold for £13,000, the stones re-used elsewhere. Eventually returned to Charles II following the Restoration of the Monarchy in 1660, by then the cost of rebuilding was too great and what remained of the ruined Richmond Palace was left to fall apart.

A Thames Heron faces the spot where there are still visible traces of the old Tudor/Stuart jetty. In Tudor times, Herons were hunted and eaten at Royal feasts.

The Gatehouse, one of the few surviving buildings of the Tudor Richmond Palace. It can be accessed via Richmond Green nearby, once used for sport, jousting and other Royal entertainments.

Sketch of the Tudor Richmond Palace riverfront by Antonis Van der Wyngaerde, c. 1562.

It was in the vicinity of the Tudor/Stuart jetty that I spotted one of the prettiest artefacts I’ve ever discovered on the Thames Foreshore. I’ve never found anything quite like this and it opened the door to a story that began in Central Europe in 1845 before somehow ending up in the river at genteel Richmond when I spotted a glint of something gold and tantalising in the water during this year’s Draw-Off.

Tantalising first view of something gold and glittering in the River Thames.

Turning it over in the water and seeing this beautiful jewel for the first time since it was lost in the river.

I knew I’d found something interesting and unexpected but wasn’t sure, at that stage, exactly what. A brooch of some sort, obviously, but clearly beautifully made to a very high standard using what appeared to me to be precious metals and semi-precious stones. It was also complete and undamaged, with a pin at the back. Taking it out of the river I gently removed a number of freshwater shrimps who’d made this their home over the decades, and re-housed them elsewhere in the water. There was quite a bit of mud in the nooks and crevices at the back of the brooch indicating this had been in the Thames for some time.

After a gentle clean-up at home, research into the brooch began in earnest. My trusty magnifying glass revealed a series of hallmarks – 925 UPM MMA – the 925 indicating gold-plated sterling silver. The other materials were mother of pearl, green enamel and garnet. Further research revealed that UPM stood for The Museum of Decorative Arts in Prague, and MMA for the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. This was very exciting and I immediately emailed the museum in Prague to see if they could help shed more light on the jewel.

My brooch cleaned up and showing the rear view, hallmark 925 and the initials UPM and MMA.

Another view of my brooch from the back.

I was immensely grateful to the prompt reply from the team at The Museum of Decorative Arts in Prague who were extremely helpful and were able to provide me with information that helped colour in the backstory of my Thames find. I am particularly grateful to Dr Lucie Vlčková, who I contacted first and then signposted me to Dr Petja Matějovič, who provided so much helpful detail. I’m also grateful to Veronika Mědílková who, for the purposes of this blog, organised permission for me to use the museum’s images of the original necklace my found brooch was reproduced from.

Front view of the brooch, before clean-up, showing gilded leaves, mother of pearl flower, garnet stone and green enamel leaf.

The brooch, after clean-up, showing a visible loop at the top where it would have been attached to the other parts of a necklace.

In 2000, the Museum of Decorative Arts in Prague collaborated with the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, allowing MMA to reproduce a limited edition collection of copies of approved artefacts. The reproductions, if this brooch is anything to go by, were beautifully made and used semi-precious materials. My find from the Thames at Richmond is one of these reproduced items.

Dr Matějovič kindly sent me images from the original necklace that my brooch was reproduced from. The original necklace is now part of the collection of the Museum of Decorative Arts in Prague and was originally made in Central Europe c 1845. This necklace was fashioned from gold, silver, ivory, pearl, enamel and rubies. Common to this style, parts could be separated and worn as a brooch. It would have been commissioned for a high status and wealthy woman.

Original necklace c.1845. Image ©UPM – Museum of Decorative Arts in Prague (Invoice No. 53470)

The original necklace, like so many beautiful things, would have been vulnerable during the Nazi occupation of Europe. It’s thought that it remained in private ownership and was eventually confiscated by Czech authorities after 1945 before transferring to the UPM in Prague in 1961. It has been on display here as part of an exhibition called ‘ART, LIFE.’ Dr Matějovič describes the necklace as a time capsule, symbolic of several stages of the life cycle of a plant. You can see this clearly in the way golden tendrils weave together the gold and enamel leaves, bejewelled flowers and seed pods.

The necklace also features in Dr Matějovič’s book ‘Jewellery -Form-Content’, bringing together jewellery past and present: jewellery still worn today, and jewellery that has not survived.

‘Jewellery -Form-Content’ by Petra Matějovič.

I have kindly been invited by Dr Matějovič to visit the Decorative Museum of Arts in Prague for their new exhibition ‘Jewellery and Figure’, which will be open until 29th March 2026, and hope to make the trip to Czechia sometime in the new year. A great start to 2026 and a wonderful experience to look forward to. I have included a link to the museum for more information about location and opening times:

THE MUSEUM OF DECORATIVE ARTS

Poster advertising the new exhibition – ‘Jewellery and Figure’ – currently on at UPM, the Decorative Museum of Arts in Prague, until 29th March 2026.

Finally, thank you to Angela (@up_for_a_lark on Instagram, please give her a follow) who was with me when I found this stunning brooch and was able to share the moment of discovery with me.

As the tide began to come back in and I set off for home I couldn’t help thinking that Elizabeth I would have approved of this find, made within the vicinity of her long lost Tudor Palace, albeit separated by a span of over four hundred years since she last spent time here. I’ll never know how this artefact got into the river, one can only speculate; it was lost, then found again. This is what mudlarks do – we find lost things and bring them and their stories into the light again.

View of the Tudor/Stuart jetty with Richmond Railway Bridge and Twickenham Road Bridge visible downstream.

The timbers of the Tudor/Stuart jetty where I found my brooch, are heavily symbolic regarding other historic jewellery. As mentioned above, Richmond Palace was reputed to be the favourite home of Elizabeth I and the place where she died on 24th March 1603.

Stone monument showing details of the monarchs who lived and died at Richmond Palace, including Elizabeth 1, who died here on 24th March 1603.

When mudlarking near the jetty I often think of the moment of the Queen’s death. According to legend, Robert Carey is said to have taken the Queen’s ring from her finger after she was pronounced dead. He then rushed to a boat, perhaps tethered at this very spot (travelling by road at that time was considered dangerous, the river was viewed as a much safer option) before being rowed down the Thames into the centre of London. He then disembarked and galloped at speed on horseback to James VI of Scotland, now James I of England. Elizabeth had died unmarried and childless, so James was named as her rightful heir (his credentials as the next Monarch were that he was the son of Mary, Queen of Scots, Elizabeth’s cousin, and was also a great-great-grandson of King Henry VII.)

But as so often in history, fact is mixed with a heavy dose of fiction and exaggeration. Carey did indeed make the dash to Holyrood House in Scotland but, as far as I’ve been able to ascertain, documents show that the ring Carey was said to have presented to James was not from the deceased Queen’s finger. Historians of this period, particularly the jewellery experts, believe it far more likely that Carey handed over a sapphire ring (definitely not the Queen’s actual ring) with the words that it had come ‘from a faire lady.’ James had previously given this ring to Carey’s sister, with instructions that it should be returned after the Queen’s death. In returning the sapphire ring so quickly to the new King of England, Carey may have hoped to curry favour with him by giving him assurance that Queen Elizabeth had indeed died. He had rushed north to Scotland without any other official documentation and against the express orders of Eizabeth’s Privy Councillors, an unwise move and which made him unpopular.

The ring that was actually taken from Elizabeth’s finger a week before her death, on the advice of her physicians, is known as the Chequers ring, and is one of the few surviving pieces of jewellery worn by her. The exact circumstances of her death are still a subject of hot debate today. Blood poisoning is commonly cited as the main reason – the Queen was a heavy user of lead-based makeup known as ‘Venetian Ceruse’, or ‘Venetian White’, which was later classified as a poison. She may also have died of pneumonia, streptococcus or even cancer. Permission for a post mortem was refused, probably to protect the cult status of the Queen’s ostensible virginity – in life she had been portrayed as a virgin, a goddess, but never as a normal woman. It was important that this myth was maintained.

Thought to have been given to her in 1575, and worn every day, the Queen’s ring had grown into her flesh over the years causing her considerable discomfort and necessitating its removal prior to her death. The Chequers ring was made from gold, mother-of-pearl, rubies, diamonds. Its chief feature is a locket with two portraits. One is of Elizabeth herself, the other traditionally thought to be her beloved mother Anne Boleyn.

The Chequers Ring. Image © Chequers Collection

Much of Elizabeth I’s jewellery has long since been lost, dispersed by James I after the Queen’s death, nor is it clear what happened to Carey’s sapphire ring either. Quite likely also lost or given away, no one knows where. The Chequers ring is uniquely special in that it survives, probably bought by the Home family, and descended down the line until acquired by Arthur Lee, First Viscount Lee of Fareham, owner of Chequers country house, which was eventually presented to the nation becoming the country home of the prime minister. The ring remains within the private Chequers collection, and is not on public view.

Jewels. Lost and Found in the Thames. And those that survive historic events to tell their tale.

And it’s on that bejewelled note that I hope you’ve all enjoyed a Happy Christmas; wishing you a peaceful and healthy New Year 2026. Thank you to everyone for reading and supporting my mudlarking blog, and for all the kind emails you’ve sent me this year.

NB Please note that a valid permit is required from the Port of London Authority (PLA) in order to mudlark or detect on the Thames Foreshore.

From Roman London To Roman Provence (Via A Tiny Thames Gaming Piece)

‘And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.’

So Shakespeare tells us in Sonnet 18. And he’s correct. As we rattle on to the end of August, September is peeking cheekily round the corner and our parched and dry summer is coming to an end for this year. Tidying up in my garden, there’s already a sense of autumn, blackberries hanging off branches, leaves turning golden and falling from trees earlier than usual (though this is almost certainly due to the lack of rain) and the faintest sense and scent of smokiness in the evening air. It’ll soon be time to start digging out the jumpers to wear on crisp early morning mudlarking trips.

I’ve been holidaying in Roman Provence this July. Ok, I know other people’s holiday snaps and anecdotes are tedious but please bear with. My jaunt to the south of France has a purpose and is a glorious link to a recent mudlarking find on the Thames Foreshore. All will be revealed as you read on.

Incomplete Roman bone gaming counter found by me on the Thames Foreshore

Obverse of my incomplete Roman bone gaming counter

I’ve spotted Roman finds at various Thames Foreshore locations, not just in one particular area that’s known for its Roman artefacts. Without a shadow of a doubt far fewer finds are made here these days, as in most areas on the river, and yet there are always interesting discoveries waiting to be made.

A few months ago I found something white and round lodged between two rocks and an ancient piece of timber. Thinking it was a piece of shell I nearly didn’t pick it up, but of course I picked it up. Rule number one in the Mudlarking Rule book – always ALWAYS pick things up; turn them over in your hand, weigh them, feel them, look at them properly. If still in doubt, ask a fellow mudlark. It so happened that conveniently one of these was larking on the foreshore nearby and he confirmed it as a bone gaming counter, though an unusual one. (The fellow mudlark was called Guy – do give him a follow on Instagram @mudlarking.about ) I took the artefact to show my FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) Stuart Wyatt at the London Museum as per the requirement of every mudlarking permit holder, i.e. to report your finds regularly so that the most noteworthy can be recorded on the PAS (Portable Antiquities Scheme) database. The link is here for those who want to read more about this useful resource and fantastic archaeological database https://finds.org.uk/

And I’m thrilled to say my bone counter is now recorded on the PAS – Record ID: LON-AA4BF5 – if you wish to see the detail for yourselves.

An assortment of Roman pottery sherds, burnt tegula fragment and my bone gaming counter – all found by me on the Thames Foreshore. Similar potsherds have been discovered in graves and cremations

It’s incomplete, not as glamorous as some of the bone gaming counters found by other mudlarks on the foreshore, but as it’s the first one I’ve ever found of this type I’m more than happy with that. Dating from 50 – 410 CE, the counter itself is sub circular in plan and is undecorated except for a central concave depression and a small central hole on one side, possibly from a lathe. The edges are bevelled outwards. Similar counters can be found in the reference books and papers of Crummy (Nina Crummy, Roman small finds expert and also expert in Roman material culture.) Also known as a Kenyon type A, these were produced throughout the Roman period with little variation.

The gaming counter has been heated in a fire and turned white and distorted. Fellow mudlark and artist Ed Bucknall ( also well worth a follow on Instagram at @edjbucknall) has suggested this could indicate the gaming counter might have been part of a Roman cremation. In other words, funerary goods.

The Roman Empire was multi-cultural and allowed a surprisingly diverse number of religious beliefs, though some were initially treated with suspicion, hostility and subject to persecution, e.g Christianity. Emperor Constantine famously converted to Christianity before the Battle of Milvian Bridge in 312 CE, though he continued to patronise other religions, clearly hedging his bets in order to safeguard his soul in the afterlife ‘just in case.’ Emperor Theodosius was the one who finally made Christianity the official religion of the Roman Empire in 380 CE.

Londinium in late Antiquity showing Southwark as part of the Roman City

In Londinium as elsewhere, burial customs were adopted from all parts of the Roman Empire, adapted to suit, then later abandoned. Wealthy Roman citizens were able to commission elaborate tombs in contrast with those who were poor and whose bodies were often dumped into open pits. Burials were not permitted within the city walls and cemeteries were located away from cities, for both public health, superstitious and religious reasons, tombstones often found along main roads. Archaeological excavations of burial grounds give us a great deal of information and show a wide range of burial rites. These include conventional inhumation through to cremation and ‘bustum’, where the body was cremated over a burial pit. Many types of grave goods, including food offerings and personal objects, have been found alongside these burials. What is now the Southwark area of modern London has been the site of excavation for decades and archaeology has revealed it to have been an important place for the burial of Londinium’s dead. It was a significant area, though outside the main city walls, accessible by the first ever London Bridge built by the Romans across the River Thames.

London and the Thames looked very different two thousand years ago. The south of the river was marshy, what we now know as Southwark was essentially two large gravel islands which formed the southern bridgehead for the original (Roman) London Bridge. Major roads were built here to connect to other Roman cities in the south of England e.g. Watling Street (connecting Londinium to Canterbury) and Stane Street (connecting Londinium to Chichester.) Museum of London Archaeology (MOLA) have carried out excavations in Southwark and archaeologists have found remains of high status stone buildings together with mosaics, hypocaust heating systems and painted wall frescos.

Wooden jetties, warehouses and other remnants of waterfront activities show that the Southwark side of the river was just as much a centre of trade as the north side, and with strong links to the rest of the Roman Empire.

I was fascinated to read via the Southwark Council website that south of Borough tube station the Roman landscape was once dominated by a very large cemetery, including a number of mausoleums, walled areas containing graves and monuments to the dead lining the road along Stane Street and Watling Street. The link to more information about the history of Southwark is here:

https://www.southwark.gov.uk/planning-environment-and-building-control/planning/design-and-conservation/archaeology-and/roman

I don’t know if my bone gaming counter came from a cremation in Southwark, but it came from somewhere and it might as well have been from Roman Southwark as anywhere else. Though there were also other cemeteries north, east and west of Londinium’s city walls.

Worn section of terracotta roof tile, possibly Roman or later, showing a makeshift gaming board

The river often plays games with us and coincidentally I found a worn, incomplete section of terracotta roof tile near where I’d found the bone gaming counter. I like to imagine someone beavering away making tiles and laying them out to dry in a courtyard. Boredom sets in and they idly mark a square piece of spare clay into a grid. Not a fancy gaming board that a high status individual or soldier might have used for the playing of Ludus Latrunculorum (similar to chess or draughts, the winner is the player who’s captured the most pieces) but a poor man’s or woman’s gaming board – functional, portable, will do the job. Something to while away the long hours in the tile maker’s yard when the boss wasn’t looking. That said, it’s impossible to tell if this is Roman clay; it could be later, but was found in an area of foreshore where Roman artefacts are found, and it’s the rich terracotta colour of the Roman era. I’ll never know, but it’s fun to let the imagination run riot and there’s no harm in speculating. And on this note, a third favourite mudlarking Insta recommendation is Peter (aka @ _tidetravel ) who writes in a much more evocative way about his mudlarked finds than I’ve done above, and really takes you back in time with his stories and descriptions of artefacts. He’s well worth a follow.

Photo taken by my daughter, me striking a pose in front of the Pont du Gard

I am obsessed with Provence in the south of France. Mostly because of the history – Provence has some of the world’s most impressive Roman remains – but also the food and wine are rather good too. The name ‘Provence’ itself is a translation of the word ‘province’, i.e province of Rome. In Arles, Aix-en-Provence, Nîmes, Orange and Vaison-la-Romaine, you will find some of the best preserved arenas, amphitheatres, spas, villas and other monuments anywhere in the Roman world.

I’ve wanted to visit the Pont du Gard for my entire adult life and finally managed to do so this summer. It wasn’t hugely busy either, though we went on a scorchingly hot July day. Situated in the Gard department of Languedoc-Roussillon, 20 kilometres from Nîmes (Roman Nemausus), the Pont du Gard was an aqueduct constructed by the Romans in approximately 19BCE to 50CE as part of a system to carry water for 50 kilometres across hills and valleys to the wealthy of Nemausus for their fountains, baths, gardens and drinking water.

After the Roman Empire collapsed, the aqueduct fell into disuse. Over time the stone blocks were looted, eventually it was used as a toll bridge, then repaired and restored to the stunning monument we see today. There is also a museum, cafés and a gift shop as you enter the site (and some of the best ice cream for sale in Languedoc-Roussillon.)

Flowing through the arches of the aqueduct is the gentle river Gardon that can rise and flood and be torrential during the winter months. We swam in its waters on the hottest of hot days of our visit and it was difficult to imagine it as a viciously turbulent mass of water. Roman engineers were highly skilled and designed the foundations of the bridge in a shape like the tip of the prow of a ship, thus helping protect the aqueduct from violent currents. As we swam, and I checked the shallow river bed for artefacts (there weren’t any but it’s impossible to keep that mudlarking eye still, even when on holiday) I imagined the labourers and soldiers building the aqueduct all those millennia ago and wondering if they also played board games in their precious downtime using bone gaming counters, just like the one I found on the Thames. I’m sure they did.

Foundation stones of the Pont du Gard, designed like the prow of a ship to withstand storms and heavy currents

Spectacular views of the Gardon from the Pont du Gard

Prior to making our way down south to Provence we stopped off in Paris for a few days to visit my two favourite museums in the capital. If you haven’t been, I highly recommend the Musée Carnavalet ( free to enter) in Le Marais and the Musée Cluny (not free to enter) in St Germain-des-Prés; both museums are closed on a Monday. If you can’t cope with the huge crowds in the Louvre or Musée d’Orsay then these two smaller museums are perfect for you. The Cluny is France’s National Museum of the Middle Ages. In the heart of the Latin Quarter, it’s an amazing collection of historical buildings comprising Gallo-Roman thermae or public baths with divine exhibits everywhere you look, many familiar to my fellow mudlarks. Gazing at the contents of the cabinets it really was like greeting old friends.

Strolling from the Carnavalet to the Cluny, where many familiar saintly friends were on display, it was comforting to see this sort of Medieval ‘Entente Cordiale’ via the medium of religious artefacts bought, and lost, by pilgrims over the centuries. Featuring St Thomas Becket, St Veronica, St Anthony, Our Lady and also many unfamiliar ones. Clearly pilgrims travelled to many different shrines across Europe and quite a few of the badges on display have not, to my knowledge, been found in the Thames e.g. St Fiacre en Brie, St Maur, St Vincent, St Léonard, St Julien of Le Mans, St Geneviève and St Corneille.

Medieval pilgrim badges and their molds, greeted like old friends

And I’m finishing this blog with a ‘save the date’ reminder. The first of our mudlarking exhibitions for Totally Thames 2025 will be taking place at the Guildhall Art Gallery in the City of London, on Saturday 6th September and Sunday 7th September (I’ll be exhibiting my finds on the 6th only.) If you’ve never visited, the Guildhall is the site of Londinium’s amphitheatre and a stunning building, the perfect setting for a mudlarking exhibition.

The link below will take you to the complete calendar of events for Totally Thames 2025, including the fascinating ‘Lost and Found’ series of events. These feature the stories of prison hulks, ancient wharves, East African seamen who settled on the Thames and many others revealed from archives, family histories and mudlarked objects from the river. For centuries the Thames has re-shaped the city of London and its people, connecting local communities with global flows of trade, migration and ideas.

https://thamesfestivaltrust.org/heritage-programme/lost-found/?fbclid=PAQ0xDSwMSjUhleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABp7jXGoYJ-R_8krrpPiBs0QuCV_XpO2xYg0vOZH-I0F0OgtoQy8CXmxksEZ1Q_aem_etZmWzUkvjbJlXUjlna-FQ

Do come! Looking forward to seeing everyone there.

NB It is a legal requirement to have a valid permit from the PLA (Port of London Authority) to mudlark on the River Thames.

Secrets of the Thames

It’s been a hectic few months on the mudlarking front, and this Easter weekend has been the first time for a while where I’ve had the space and time to sit down, draw breath and reflect. (And write this blog, of course.)

At the beginning of April I was kindly invited to a preview of a new mudlarking exhibition at The London Museum, Docklands. Along with other fellow mudlarks, friends, family and a smattering of celebrities from the worlds of history and archaeology, I was given the opportunity to mingle over wine and nibbles and enjoy my first glimpse of this long awaited event. Canary Wharf was literally buzzing that evening. So, I dressed in my best sparkly sequins and prepared for an evening of mudlarking rock’n’roll.

Fellow mudlark Fran Sibthorpe, archaeologist Raksha Dave, and yours truly raising a glass at the preview of ‘Secrets of the Thames’

‘Secrets of the Thames – Mudlarking London’s Lost Treasures’ is a unique, year long exhibition dedicated to the hidden world of mudlarks, exploring the stories behind a range of fascinating objects and finds. The preview night was brilliant and busy but I spent so much time chatting to everyone that I didn’t get to see everything properly. This necessitated a second visit the following week, this time accompanied by my daughter and baby grandson, who slept peacefully all the way through oblivious to his mudlarking granny’s modest contribution to the exhibition, but no matter. I hope I’ll be able to take him mudlarking with me one day when he’s older.

Second visit to Secrets of the Thames at London Museum, Docklands, this time with my daughter and baby grandson

Twice a day, every day, the tide recedes. As this liquid carpet rolls back it reveals artefacts from London’s past; broken pottery, roof tiles, clay tobacco pipes, gaming pieces, a child’s shoe or maybe a tantalising glimpse of a colourful glass bead as it emerges slowly from the mud. The River Thames has served as a vibrant and bustling trade hub for millennia. A final resting place for lost souls, love affairs, the site of battles, criminal activity and executions, a repository for a range of tiny hidden treasures that mudlarks search for at low tide, just as they have done since the poor of Victorian London – the original mudlarks – tried to eke out a living by looking for items they could sell, such as coal, wood or copper.

Poignant quote from an anonymous child mudlark, aged 13, 1860

Today’s mudlarks are more fortunate and can focus on uncovering the past. We don’t mudlark for profit, indeed we are not allowed to sell the things we find. Licensed mudlarks are hobbyists, but so much more than that. We are passionate about what we do and view mudlarking as a privilege. We don’t take our permits for granted. Mudlarks have discovered thousands of artefacts that tell the story of London; its history, trade, industry, fluctuating and ever changing population, immigration, survival and regeneration. I am so grateful to be a small part of this; it’s the very heart of what the exhibition is about.

Display cabinet showing sherds from the first potteries on the Thames

‘Secrets of the Thames’ is thoughtfully curated by Kate Sumnall and her talented team. On entering, you are welcomed by contemporary accounts of mudlarking, paintings and pamphlets providing context for the exhibition. Visitors are then encouraged to explore and engage with the displays, subdivided by period and theme. The exhibition doesn’t shrink from addressing difficult subjects, and one powerful section covers the West African slave trade, as it should. We also hear first-hand accounts from today’s mudlarks, and quotes from them are displayed throughout the exhibition as they describe what mudlarking means to them personally. This short, sweet and perfect quote by fellow mudlark Caroline Nunneley (@carolinenunneleymudlark on Insta) says it all.

‘Thank you, River’, quote by mudlark Caroline Nunneley

I’ve posted just a small selection of some of the artefacts on display. There were so many fascinating things to see that I’d prefer you go to check them out for yourselves. But if I had to single out some favourites (please don’t judge me) I would have to plump for the 18th century eel fork (photo below), Roman intaglios spotted by mudlarks over the years ( definitely a ‘wish list’ find for me, perhaps one day….), stunning pottery reproductions, sketches and prints by mudlarks Mark Sowden, Charlie Dixon and Ed Bucknall (@marksowden3 @charlie.collects and @edjbucknall on Insta) and mudlarking-influenced sculptures – ‘Finders Keepers’ – by Billie Bond (@billiebondsculptor) The work of some exceptionally talented people is on display here showcasing the mudlarking finds. The perfect juxtaposition of old with new. The mudlarking community is very talented and creative.

One of my favourite exhibition artefacts – an 18th century eel fork

Roman intaglios found by mudlarks on the Thames Foreshore

Mudlark Caroline Nunneley – from the ‘Finders Keepers’ series by sculptor Billie Bond

Mudlark Mark Sowden and some of his Roman Pottery reproductions, inspired by sherds found on the Thames Foreshore

A personal highlight of the exhibition for me comes as the exhibits draw to a conclusion. Utterly inspired, it’s a HUGE glowing Moon, the work of Luke Jerram and Felix Taylor. I couldn’t believe that the Moon has it’s own room. How lovely is that?

The Moon Room, created by Luke Jerram and Felix Taylor

My baby grandson and daughter silhouetted in the Moon Room

I took so many photos of this shiny silvery orb. Completely entranced. For without the Moon mudlarks are nothing. We cannot do what we do without it, because the Moon’s gravitational pull is the primary driver of earth’s tides.

On Earth, our precious oceans bulge out on both the side closest to the Moon and on the side further away from the Moon. These bulges create high tides. The low points are where low tides occur. Thank you, NASA, for the scientific explanation.

And at the New Moon or Full Moon, the tidal range is at its maximum. This is called a ‘spring tide’, when high tides are very high and low tides are very low. The phrase is nothing to do with the actual season of Spring. Rather, it means’ spring’ as in ‘spring forth’, ‘jump’, ‘rise’, ‘burst’ etc. Basically our oceans are bulging more than normal and it’s mind-blowing to contemplate.

So do say a special hello to the Moon Room when you visit.

My daughter checking out the mock-up of Stuart Wyatt’s (FLO) desk at the London Museum, a familiar sight for mudlarks who come to report their finds. This is a requirement of all who hold a mudlarking permit

But my photos aren’t doing this exhibition justice. You should go and see it for yourselves. Above all, it is rich in human experience. When I was a fresh-faced undergraduate studying for my history degree at university, the curriculum was predominantly about Kings, Queens, Politics, Treaties and Wars. Mudlarking is so much more than this. It’s about the lives of ordinary people whose names we might never know but who lived, loved, feared and hoped, just like we do now. This is what the artefacts we find bring to London’s story throughout millennia. A unique archaeological resource and rich legacy of the city and its peoples brought to life through items lost to the river over time.

My baby grandson being introduced to photos of myself and fellow mudlarks (though he slept through it all.) Photographs copyright John Chase, The London Museum

A joy to see the Battersea Shield, dredged from the Thames in 1857 during excavations for Chelsea Bridge

Last but not least, I must give a big shout-out to amazing photographer John Chase, who spent the preview evening ‘on duty’, recording the event with his camera, and for all the wonderful photos and images he’s taken for the London Museum exhibition.

John Chase busy at work photographing mudlarks Fran Sibthorpe and Jo Cook @johnchase5350 @franjoy7 and @little_jo_cook_mudlark on Insta

Secrets of the Thames is on at the London Museum, Docklands, until 1st March 2026, so there is plenty of time to book to see it. For more information and tickets click on the link below:

https://www.londonmuseum.org.uk/whats-on/secrets-thames/

Do come!

Canary Wharf with sign to the London Museum, Docklands

NB It is a legal requirement to have a valid permit from the Port of London Authority in order to search for, and remove, items from the Thames Foreshore. Further details here:

https://pla.co.uk/thames-foreshore-permits