Location: Tweed House, Teviot Street, Poplar, London E14
• As soon as we open the car doors, a cat jumps inside. She’s got a collar on, she’s well-fed, so obviously not a stray. I have some trouble dislodging her from the back seat, but once on the ground again, she’s keen to show us around. She slips under the metal fence, where they are tearing down the estate. Looks like we’ve come just in time; a good portion of Tweed House is now a pile of rubble waiting to be cleared away. This is the cat’s territory; she looks back at us with a plaintive meow, disappears into the debris. She’s the colour of cinderblocks, and so this is the perfect place for her to hide. Someone has written Lost Soul on the hoardings. The whole place is a monument to what’s lost. We lean over and pick up a piece of what’s left of the building. There are pigeons roosting in the ruins. Away from the demolition, the noise of the A12, a towpath slopes onto the canal. A pair of moorhens glides upstream towards the Lea.
• Words Tamar Yoseloff / Photos Vici MacDonald
Below: Tweed House, a ruin with view. Bottom: exhibition display of field notes.