On the eve of the closure of old Billingsgate in 1982, the Observer took a valedictory tour of the fish market.
Things had changed since the market opened in 1876, built on the site of a former Saxon port. Demand for Argentine red snapper and Hong Kong wong fah from health-conscious Londoners just about kept things ticking over, but Britain was eating less fish, meaning Billingsgate’s work for the day finished at 10am instead of 3pm. Porter numbers had dwindled, too, from 1,200 in 1929 to 240, and while women used to be commonplace, by 1982 there were none. The work was easier, 79-year-old Jackie explained, sitting on a truckload of mussels in creaking yellow PVC trousers, staring across the river ‘half-drowned in nostalgia’. When he started out in 1934 there were ‘no trolleys… Used to carry 22, 23 stone on your head.’
