The London borough of Lewisham perhaps doesn't have the best reputation, but it's really only the northern swathe that's urban and grey. Further south the borough is more suburban and rather greener, in places at least. Lewisham pleasantly surprised me as I swanned around visiting an assortment of interesting locations. Part one (urban) today, part two (suburban) tomorrow.
Somewhere famous: The Laban Centre Proper famous places are in short supply in Lewisham, so this award winning building will have to do (it won the Stirling Prize for Architecture 2003). This is the Laban Centre, a new dance conservatoire on the banks of Deptford Creek that's somehow transcended its bleak surroundings to become a national style icon. Architects Herzog & de Meuron have worked shimmering magic using semi-translucent polycarbonate, plus the occasional vertical strip in lime, turquoise and magenta down the side of the building. Beneath the walls there's a grassy terrace which looks out over a couple of decaying barges marooned in the muddy river. Add a few large windows and some landscaped grass features out the front and the whole thing hangs together rather beautifully. Inside there are 13 dance studios, a library, a cafe, a restaurant, and probably a small lounge where knackered hoofers can collapse and rest their pointy toes. I watched a steady stream of dancey types flow through the entrance, from serious women in leotards to tiny budding ballerinas. I didn't risk venturing inside myself, I thought I'd leave that to the local talent, but I was duly impressed by a regeneration scheme which not only looks great but does great work too. by train: Deptford
Somewhere sporting: TheDen There are probably better times to try getting close to Millwall's football ground than half past four on a matchday afternoon. Even when that match is only against Crewe. The streets around the Den may have been much quieter than the excitable crowds I could hear shouting within, but not for long. Several white vans began congregating in the nearby streets, some driven by greasy fryers hoping to sell over-priced hot dogs to passing trade, but most full of policemen. As the final whistle approached the coppers emerged from their vans to take up their positions around the stadium, looking menacing enough to make me feel slightly guilty about just being there. Roads were quietly sealed off, stewards gathered by the gates, and the smell of cooking fat increased. The first fans began to drip out of the stadium, pie-faced and lager-waisted, although they must have been pissed off later to realise they'd missed the nail-biting end of a seven goal thriller. They were certainly pissed. I took refuge in South Bermondsey station, from which high vantage point I could see the mounted police gathering their forces outside the parade along Ilderton Road. And, from the very end of the platform, I could see right inside the stadium... or at least the small strip of pitch in front of the West Stand. I watched the linesman patrolling the touchline, and a substitution, and a brief spell of play by the touchline that wasn't quite a throw-in. Loud cheers and the stamping of feet signalled that Crewe had equalised, but an even louder ovation greeted Millwall four minutes later when they retook the lead. As fans began to advance on the station in greater numbers I abandoned my grandstand view and leapt on the next train out. I had a sudden craving for a burger on the way home, though. by train: South Bermondsey, by bus: P13
Somewhere retail: Lewisham Shopping Centre It's not the first place you'd choose for a day's shopping, but Lewisham town centre is a retail magnet all the same. I walked down from the station with a group of waddling mothers, fag in one hand, eager daughter in the other, presumably hoping to buy some more of those classy jeans with the embroidered arse (and the extra-large hips). They headed for the main shopping centre, a typical mall complete with award-winning Shopmobility scheme and award-winning car park. Kids ran riot in the themed play area (theme: garish plastic) and tired pensioners sat down for a cappuccino and an oversized muffin. Outside in the daily street market the stallholders were doing a roaring trade in fruit and veg, mostly to the poorer shoppers. This is the place to come to buy cheap towels, toiletries of uncertain origin, colourful flowers and a nice tartan trolley on wheels in which to carry all your purchases home. But Lewisham was considerably more down to earth than Blackheath Village (all boutiques and antiques) and considerably more upmarket than Deptford High Street (if you ever want to buy a lilac plastic washing basket, why pay more than 49p?) so I can't really fault the place. by train: Lewisham
(more tomorrow - in the meantime you might enjoy my new Flickr photostream with more shots of gorgeous Lewisham)
Proper famous places are in short supply in Lewisham, so this award winning building will have to do (it won the Stirling Prize for Architecture 2003). This is the Laban Centre, a new dance conservatoire on the banks of Deptford Creek that's somehow transcended its bleak surroundings to become a national style icon. Architects Herzog & de Meuron have worked shimmering magic using semi-translucent polycarbonate, plus the occasional vertical strip in lime, turquoise and magenta down the side of the building. Beneath the walls there's a grassy terrace which looks out over a couple of decaying barges marooned in the muddy river. Add a few large windows and some landscaped grass features out the front and the whole thing hangs together rather beautifully. Inside there are 13 dance studios, a library, a cafe, a restaurant, and probably a small lounge where knackered hoofers can collapse and rest their pointy toes. I watched a steady stream of dancey types flow through the entrance, from serious women in leotards to tiny budding ballerinas. I didn't risk venturing inside myself, I thought I'd leave that to the local talent, but I was duly impressed by a regeneration scheme which not only looks great but does great work too.
There are probably better times to try getting close to Millwall's football ground than half past four on a matchday afternoon. Even when that match is only against Crewe. The streets around the Den may have been much quieter than the excitable crowds I could hear shouting within, but not for long. Several white vans began congregating in the nearby streets, some driven by greasy fryers hoping to sell over-priced hot dogs to passing trade, but most full of policemen. As the final whistle approached the coppers emerged from their vans to take up their positions around the stadium, looking menacing enough to make me feel slightly guilty about just being there. Roads were quietly sealed off, stewards gathered by the gates, and the smell of cooking fat increased. The first fans began to drip out of the stadium, pie-faced and lager-waisted, although they must have been pissed off later to realise they'd missed the nail-biting end of a seven goal thriller. They were certainly pissed. I took refuge in South Bermondsey station, from which high vantage point I could see the mounted police gathering their forces outside the parade along Ilderton Road. And, from the very end of the platform, I could see right inside the stadium... or at least the small strip of pitch in front of the West Stand. I watched the linesman patrolling the touchline, and a substitution, and a brief spell of play by the touchline that wasn't quite a throw-in. Loud cheers and the stamping of feet signalled that Crewe had equalised, but an even louder ovation greeted Millwall four minutes later when they retook the lead. As fans began to advance on the station in greater numbers I abandoned my grandstand view and leapt on the next train out. I had a sudden craving for a burger on the way home, though.
It's not the first place you'd choose for a day's shopping, but Lewisham town centre is a retail magnet all the same. I walked down from the station with a group of waddling mothers, fag in one hand, eager daughter in the other, presumably hoping to buy some more of those classy jeans with the embroidered arse (and the extra-large hips). They headed for the main shopping centre, a typical mall complete with award-winning Shopmobility scheme and award-winning car park. Kids ran riot in the themed play area (theme: garish plastic) and tired pensioners sat down for a cappuccino and an oversized muffin. Outside in the daily street market the stallholders were doing a roaring trade in fruit and veg, mostly to the poorer shoppers. This is the place to come to buy cheap towels, toiletries of uncertain origin, colourful flowers and a nice tartan trolley on wheels in which to carry all your purchases home. But Lewisham was considerably more down to earth than Blackheath Village (all boutiques and antiques) and considerably more upmarket than Deptford High Street (if you ever want to buy a lilac plastic washing basket, why pay more than 49p?) so I can't really fault the place.
