Somewhere fictional: Railway Cuttings, East Cheam 23 Railway Cuttings, East Cheam, was the fictional home of comic legend Tony Aloysius Hancock. Hancock'sHalfHour remains the classic TV sitcom of the 1950s, detailing the everyday life of a Cheam resident with ideas above his station. The show was written by Ray Galton and Alan Simpson (who also wrote Steptoe and Son) and they brought us such classic episodes as The Blood Donor and The Radio Ham. As time went by Tony Hancock became more and more insecure with his fame, first sacking fellow actor Sid James and then taking to reading his script off autocue rather than memorising his lines. An ill-advised move to ITV followed and alcoholic Hancock was eventually depressed enough to take his own life.
But neither East Cheam nor Railway Cuttings actually exist. There's a North Cheam, but Galton and Simpson invented the fictional eastern suburb as the sort of posh place in which Tony Hancock might have aspired to live. As you can see in the photo above there are indeed railway cuttings in the area (these are on the Thameslink line) but there's no actual road bearing their name. I spent a half hour scouring the area's suburban streets looking for a suitable substitute. Beside the cuttings I found GroveAvenue, a short tree-lined road with pretensions of grandeur. One man was out washing his car but the remaining residents lurked inside behind twitching net curtains. Signs on brick pillars at each end of the street warned that this was a private road (residents parking only) and just walking down the street felt oppressive and uncomfortable. But the faded 1930s mock Tudor semi at number 23 (see photo) looked to be just the sort of place in which Hancock might have lived, and maybe his modern equivalent is still doing so. by train: Cheam
Somewhere sporty: Sutton United When grown men want to sneak away from their wives at weekends they don't go after loose women, they join football teams. The fitter blokes might end up in the squad but the rest just yell from the touchline every other Saturday or, even better, get a job in club management. SuttonUnited feels like the sort of team that such men might aspire to join, currently languishing mid-table in the NationwideConference South. Their ground at GanderGreenLane boasts a post-war grandstand and the legendary Rose's Tea Hut, but all that was evident on the pitch when I peered through a gap in the fence on Saturday was a large crowd of noisy seagulls. The team were preparing to play away so a huge white coach was standing ready to transport the squad, a few supporters and associated suit-wearing hangers-on to the afternoon's match at Redbridge. The coach was later involved in a minor road accident, delaying kickoff by 15 minutes, but nobody was hurt. I'm pleased to say that Sutton thrashed the opposition fivenil, the latest in a string of five consecutive recent victories, and I hope that all (cough) 158 supporters present enjoyed the match. by train: West Sutton, by bus: 413
Somewhere retail: Sutton I was somewhat surprised to discover that Sutton is a retail magnet, located as close as it is to both Croydon and Wimbledon, but the High Street boasts a huge range of shops that those of us living in East London can only dream of. Every chain store worth its salt has a presence and shoppers come from miles around every weekend to throng the pedestriansed streets and modern malls. I was impressed. On Saturday afternoon shoppers outside the St Nicholas Shopping Centre were being serenaded by a Chinese gentleman playing some sort of wailing one-stringed electric instrument. He was playing a tune that was almost identical to Rod Stewart's Sailing but wasn't quite, presumably for copyright reasons. You can see him in the photo being hassled by six mocking youngsters (they had loud whistles, the little scamps), but unfortunately I failed to capture the moment a few minutes later when another shopper stopped by and actually bought one of his CDs for a tenner. Further up the road a middle-aged man in a rainbow-coloured wig was folding balloon animals for stupefied toddlers, some brave lad had dressed up as Superman to hand out soon-discarded leaflets, and two dear ladies shaking tins for the RNLI were losing out big time to the tsunami bucketeers standing a little further down the street. Just another Sutton Saturday. by train: Sutton
23 Railway Cuttings, East Cheam, was the fictional home of comic legend Tony Aloysius Hancock. Hancock's Half Hour remains the classic TV sitcom of the 1950s, detailing the everyday life of a Cheam resident with ideas above his station. The show was written by Ray Galton and Alan Simpson (who also wrote Steptoe and Son) and they brought us such classic episodes as The Blood Donor and The Radio Ham. As time went by Tony Hancock became more and more insecure with his fame, first sacking fellow actor Sid James and then taking to reading his script off autocue rather than memorising his lines. An ill-advised move to ITV followed and alcoholic Hancock was eventually depressed enough to take his own life.
But neither East Cheam nor Railway Cuttings actually exist. There's a North Cheam, but Galton and Simpson invented the fictional eastern suburb as the sort of posh place in which Tony Hancock might have aspired to live. As you can see in the photo above there are indeed railway cuttings in the area (these are on the Thameslink line) but there's no actual road bearing their name. I spent a half hour scouring the area's suburban streets looking for a suitable substitute. Beside the cuttings I found Grove Avenue, a short tree-lined road with pretensions of grandeur. One man was out washing his car but the remaining residents lurked inside behind twitching net curtains. Signs on brick pillars at each end of the street warned that this was a private road (residents parking only) and just walking down the street felt oppressive and uncomfortable. But the faded 1930s mock Tudor semi at number 23 (see photo) looked to be just the sort of place in which Hancock might have lived, and maybe his modern equivalent is still doing so.
When grown men want to sneak away from their wives at weekends they don't go after loose women, they join football teams. The fitter blokes might end up in the squad but the rest just yell from the touchline every other Saturday or, even better, get a job in club management. Sutton United feels like the sort of team that such men might aspire to join, currently languishing mid-table in the Nationwide Conference South. Their ground at Gander Green Lane boasts a post-war grandstand and the legendary Rose's Tea Hut, but all that was evident on the pitch when I peered through a gap in the fence on Saturday was a large crowd of noisy seagulls. The team were preparing to play away so a huge white coach was standing ready to transport the squad, a few supporters and associated suit-wearing hangers-on to the afternoon's match at Redbridge. The coach was later involved in a minor road accident, delaying kickoff by 15 minutes, but nobody was hurt. I'm pleased to say that Sutton thrashed the opposition five nil, the latest in a string of five consecutive recent victories, and I hope that all (cough) 158 supporters present enjoyed the match.
I was somewhat surprised to discover that Sutton is a retail magnet, located as close as it is to both Croydon and Wimbledon, but the High Street boasts a huge range of shops that those of us living in East London can only dream of. Every chain store worth its salt has a presence and shoppers come from miles around every weekend to throng the pedestriansed streets and modern malls. I was impressed. On Saturday afternoon shoppers outside the St Nicholas Shopping Centre were being serenaded by a Chinese gentleman playing some sort of wailing one-stringed electric instrument. He was playing a tune that was almost identical to Rod Stewart's Sailing but wasn't quite, presumably for copyright reasons. You can see him in the photo being hassled by six mocking youngsters (they had loud whistles, the little scamps), but unfortunately I failed to capture the moment a few minutes later when another shopper stopped by and actually bought one of his CDs for a tenner. Further up the road a middle-aged man in a rainbow-coloured wig was folding balloon animals for stupefied toddlers, some brave lad had dressed up as Superman to hand out soon-discarded leaflets, and two dear ladies shaking tins for the RNLI were losing out big time to the tsunami bucketeers standing a little further down the street. Just another Sutton Saturday.
