Somewhere pretty (part 2): more Parkland Walk The northern stretch of the Parkland Walk begins just a skull's throw from Dennis's old house. The old railway tracks are now a meandering footpath through the trees, emerging from a wooden fence on the site of the old Cranley Gardens station. It's much quieter here than on the southern part of the Walk. The only people I passed along the way were a group of local kids swinging from a rope, and a small girl on her way to piano practice pedalling determinedly behind her "mama".
This is only a short walk, but it holds the most marvellous surprise. The path suddenly juts out across the slopes of Muswell Hill on an unexpectedly tall viaduct, with magnificent views across northeast London and beyond. Walk a few steps further and Docklands and then the City come into view, with the Gherkin, Tower 42 and new Broadgate Tower poking up above the rooftops. This must have been a quite spectacular train journey 100 years ago, even without the skyscrapers. Today's path soon grinds to a halt, however (because the council have since built a school across the tracks), so the final destination can only be reached via a gentle parkland climb. But it's one hell of a destination...
Somewhere famous: Alexandra Palace If there's a major attraction in London less fortunate than the Millennium Dome, it must be AlexandraPalace. This hilltop entertainment hub opened to the public in 1873, attracting more than a hundred thousand visitors in its first fortnight. On its sixteenth day the palace burnt to the ground, killing three members of staff. Oops. So the Victorians tried again and rebuilt the place, and it's only burnt to the ground once since. History was made here in 1936 when Alexandra Palace was home to the world's first TV studios (which I've visited before), and a few years later during the war thousands of German civilians were interned here "for their own safety". And now, apparently, council trustees plan to sell the whole building off to a commercial developer intent on converting broadcasting heritage into a fitness centre and restaurant. Oh it's had quite a history has Ally Pally, not all of it good.
I was pleasantly surprised on Saturday to discover that the entrance at the western end of the old palace was open, and the interior deserted. The Palm Court is one of the few parts of the building to have survived the 1980 fire, and its high glass roof is still an impressive sight. I wandered unchallenged beneath the arched ceiling, admiring the fountains and carved pillars and leafy green fronds. Nextdoor the Phoenix Bar was serving up beer and fresh-grilled burgers to a none-too-huge lunchtime crowd, while an ice cream van stood unbothered by the roadside. The front of the palace is in a sorry state in places, but the central rose window rises up majestically above the promenade. Oh the view from up here, the view is fantastic! The whole of London was spread out in front of me, almost completely unobscured by intermediate contours. I watched as a small wedding party gathered at the top of the parkland slopes and pledged their troths, with the photographer making the most of the spectacular vista beyond.
The old BBC studios are in the eastern corner, beneath the giant antenna mast that still pulses TV signals out across North London. And at the far end, by the car park, is the entrance to the ice rink. You won't get very far inside without paying, and you probably won't want to go inside unless you're a screaming pink-jacketed teenage harridan. I don't think I've ever visited another London attraction quite so overrun with gangs of raucous boisterous girls in fat jeans, and I kept my distance as they tottered down through the car park to catch the bus home. Far better I thought to walk peacefully back along the promenade, past the now-snogging bride and groom, to watch the sun breaking through the clouds over Haringey and beyond. Alexandra Palace is a great survivor, and may the councilnever ruin it. by bus: W3 by train: Alexandra Palace by tube: Wood Green
The northern stretch of the Parkland Walk begins just a skull's throw from Dennis's old house. The old railway tracks are now a meandering footpath through the trees, emerging from a wooden fence on the site of the old Cranley Gardens station. It's much quieter here than on the southern part of the Walk. The only people I passed along the way were a group of local kids swinging from a rope, and a small girl on her way to piano practice pedalling determinedly behind her "mama".
If there's a major attraction in London less fortunate than the Millennium Dome, it must be Alexandra Palace. This hilltop entertainment hub opened to the public in 1873, attracting more than a hundred thousand visitors in its first fortnight. On its sixteenth day the palace burnt to the ground, killing three members of staff. Oops. So the Victorians tried again and rebuilt the place, and it's only burnt to the ground once since. History was made here in 1936 when Alexandra Palace was home to the world's first TV studios (which I've visited before), and a few years later during the war thousands of German civilians were interned here "for their own safety". And now, apparently, council trustees plan to sell the whole building off to a commercial developer intent on converting broadcasting heritage into a fitness centre and restaurant. Oh it's had quite a history has Ally Pally, not all of it good.
The old BBC studios are in the eastern corner, beneath the giant antenna mast that still pulses TV signals out across North London. And at the far end, by the car park, is the entrance to the ice rink. You won't get very far inside without paying, and you probably won't want to go inside unless you're a screaming pink-jacketed teenage harridan. I don't think I've ever visited another London attraction quite so overrun with gangs of raucous boisterous girls in fat jeans, and I kept my distance as they tottered down through the car park to catch the bus home. Far better I thought to walk peacefully back along the promenade, past the now-snogging bride and groom, to watch the sun breaking through the clouds over Haringey and beyond. Alexandra Palace is a great survivor, and may the council never ruin it.
