Somewhere historic: Blackheath Blackheath is the roof of southeast London, a large patch of open grassland with fine views across the capital. The slice north of the A2 is owned by the Queen, and lies in Greenwich, but the larger chunk to the south is still held by the Dartmouth family, and lies in Lewisham. Back in 1381 Wat Tyler and his revolting peasants camped here, in 1415 Henry V's official post-Agincourt welcome was held here, and in 1540 Henry VIII met horse-faced Anne of Cleves here for the very first time. Blackheath later grew into a posh Victorian suburb and it's now the perfect place for a weekend stroll. And kites, by the looks of it, because the weekend wind brought avid flyers out in great numbers. Some were playing with large parafoils, perhaps practising for yesterday's StreathamKiteFestival, while one bloke was even busy kite yachting. He held tight to his giant yellow wing, leapt onto a small skateboard and allowed himself to be pulled at great speed across the heath. Ten seconds later he had to leap off again before he ended up in the main road, but he was soon back on his feet and off to prepare for another voyage. Next week the London Marathon will be starting right here, just to spoil his fun. by train: Blackheath, by bus: 53, 380
Somewhere pretty: Green Chain Walk
Well, it looked pretty on the map. I thought I'd spent too long in the northern part of the borough so I headed south to walk along the Lewisham part of the Green Chain Walk, a 40 mile network of footpaths through southeast London. I had high hopes as I set off from the corner of Barings Road and Coopers road where E Nesbit used to live. This stretch of the walk has been named in her honour, although I doubt she'd be too impressed by the graffitied footbridge over the railway and the upturned pushchair lying abandoned in a grassy pond. The path skirted the delights of Hither Green Cemetery and instead passed a vandalised playground, a fire station and a pile of tyres, then straight on through the middle of a council estate. The DownhamWoodland Walk promised much but was never more than a narrow strip of trees hemmed in between houses and industrial units, and the only wildlife I saw was a mean-looking mongrel which burst out suddenly from a back garden riddled by teenage hash smoke. A tiny brook running beside the path disappeared through a metal sluice, heralding the unwelcome intrusion of the busy A21, and I lost hope that this walk might ever be worth the effort. But then, across the recreation ground, the route entered real undulating woodland at last in the grounds of Beckenham Place Park. A group ofvolunteers were busy restoring the path leading to some rare willow carr habitat, and elsewhere in the deep undergrowth lurked ancient (and terribly rare) "wildservice" trees. The natural beauty of the area felt sadly underappreciated given that there were far more people on the adjacent golf course than there were out walking the Green Chain. I continued - past budding blossom and a bench inscribed "Here be squirrels" - to my destination on the hilltop at the elegant 18th century clubhouse, BeckenhamPlace (which sounds much more famous that it really is). Maybe next time I select a southeast London borough I'll come back and walk some more. by train: Grove Hill, Beckenham Hill, Ravensbourne
Somewhere random: Horniman Museum Most museums have a proper raison d'être, but the Horniman was established in 1901 to showcase the "evolution of culture" and has a rather more random feel to it. And it's fab. The first room I entered looked exactly like the sort of place I might have visited on a school trip 30 years ago - full of natural history specimens, most stuffed and the rest heavily pinned down, attached to fading displays annotated using genuine 1950s lettering. Where else in London could you find a sign reading "Please do not touch the walrus"? Another room contained some of founder Frederick Horniman's extensive collection of hundreds of thousands of cultural artefacts, particularly his extensive collection of masks, although the emphasis is no longer on trying to prove how backward some of the lesser civilisations on display must have been. More recently the Horniman has reinvented itself, not least for today's school trip market, with an impressive modern extension. This contains extra new galleries devoted to musical instruments (one of everything, how cool is that?) and West African culture, plus (currently) a gallery of striking cartoon-like art from Papua New Guinea. All this plus extensive hilltop gardens with cross-London views, and it's all free. I can't believe I've not been before, but then I just didn't expect this sort of gem in Forest Hill. Ethnography has rarely been so eclectic. Further reports, and better photos, from onionbagblogger. by train: Forest Hill, by bus: 176, 185
Blackheath is the roof of southeast London, a large patch of open grassland with fine views across the capital. The slice north of the A2 is owned by the Queen, and lies in Greenwich, but the larger chunk to the south is still held by the Dartmouth family, and lies in Lewisham. Back in 1381 Wat Tyler and his revolting peasants camped here, in 1415 Henry V's official post-Agincourt welcome was held here, and in 1540 Henry VIII met horse-faced Anne of Cleves here for the very first time. Blackheath later grew into a posh Victorian suburb and it's now the perfect place for a weekend stroll. And kites, by the looks of it, because the weekend wind brought avid flyers out in great numbers. Some were playing with large parafoils, perhaps practising for yesterday's Streatham Kite Festival, while one bloke was even busy kite yachting. He held tight to his giant yellow wing, leapt onto a small skateboard and allowed himself to be pulled at great speed across the heath. Ten seconds later he had to leap off again before he ended up in the main road, but he was soon back on his feet and off to prepare for another voyage. Next week the London Marathon will be starting right here, just to spoil his fun.
E Nesbit used to live. This stretch of the walk has been named in her honour, although I doubt she'd be too impressed by the graffitied footbridge over the railway and the upturned pushchair lying abandoned in a grassy pond.
The path skirted the delights of Hither Green Cemetery and instead passed a vandalised playground, a fire station and a pile of tyres, then straight on through the middle of a council estate. The Downham Woodland Walk promised much but was never more than a narrow strip of trees hemmed in between houses and industrial units, and the only wildlife I saw was a mean-looking mongrel which burst out suddenly from a back garden riddled by teenage hash smoke. A tiny brook running beside the path disappeared through a metal sluice, heralding the unwelcome intrusion of the busy A21, and I lost hope that this walk might ever be worth the effort. But then, across the recreation ground, the route entered real undulating woodland at last in the grounds of Beckenham Place Park. A group of volunteers were busy restoring the path leading to some rare willow carr habitat, and elsewhere in the deep undergrowth lurked ancient (and terribly rare) "wild service" trees. The natural beauty of the area felt sadly underappreciated given that there were far more people on the adjacent golf course than there were out walking the Green Chain. I continued - past budding blossom and a bench inscribed "Here be squirrels" - to my destination on the hilltop at the elegant 18th century clubhouse, Beckenham Place (which sounds much more famous that it really is). Maybe next time I select a southeast London borough I'll come back and walk some more.
Most museums have a proper raison d'être, but the Horniman was established in 1901 to showcase the "evolution of culture" and has a rather more random feel to it. And it's fab. The first room I entered looked exactly like the sort of place I might have visited on a school trip 30 years ago - full of natural history specimens, most stuffed and the rest heavily pinned down, attached to fading displays annotated using genuine 1950s lettering. Where else in London could you find a sign reading "Please do not touch the walrus"? Another room contained some of founder Frederick Horniman's extensive collection of hundreds of thousands of cultural artefacts, particularly his extensive collection of masks, although the emphasis is no longer on trying to prove how backward some of the lesser civilisations on display must have been. More recently the Horniman has reinvented itself, not least for today's school trip market, with an impressive modern extension. This contains extra new galleries devoted to musical instruments (one of everything, how cool is that?) and West African culture, plus (currently) a gallery of striking cartoon-like art from Papua New Guinea. All this plus extensive hilltop gardens with cross-London views, and it's all free. I can't believe I've not been before, but then I just didn't expect this sort of gem in Forest Hill. Ethnography has rarely been so eclectic. Further reports, and better photos, from onionbagblogger.
