Have Travelcard will travel. I haven't had one for nigh two years so it's been good to get back out exploring again.
In particular there are several London boroughs I hadn't been to for absolutely ages so I've made the effort to drop in again, sometimes deliberately, sometimes on the way to somewhere else. Here are photos from six of those boroughs, not necessarily because they're blogworthy but mainly as a signal that I've been.
Ealing: unvisited for 149 days
PETERS HAIRDRESSER S is a full-on apostrophe nightmare at a backstreet salon behind West Ealing Broadway. The gap between HAIRDRESSER and S strongly suggests that the sign was originally written with a superfluous apostrophe... and if you look closely you can see it originally was, and has been painted over. Meanwhile PETERS should have an apostrophe between the PETER and the S but doesn't. You might think it possible that the salon could belong to someone whose surname is Peters, so this is technically correct... but no, because Streetview retains evidence of an earlier sign for PETER'S BARBER SHOP. The whole mess is then compounded by having been written in Comic Sans and stuck on using slightly-peeling plastic letters. You'd hope a business established in 1966 would know it's name, but its clear they dont.
Havering: unvisited for 272 days
This is the emerging housing estate at Beam Park, or at least a small completed part of it. It's based on some of the old Ford Dagenham site where 2900 homes are due to be built, and would have been built faster had transport links been better. Trains from Southend pass immediately alongside the development but there's never been a station here, only a pesky two mile gap. The first flats were built in 2019 on the basis that a station would definitely be added, but lastyear the government suddenly said they'd never promised anything and didn't believe it would be viable, leaving new owners and potential purchasers in the lurch. Yesterday the DfT 'clarified' the situation, saying the station "needs to show that it can generate revenue over a continuous 3-year period" and that the Greater London Authority must agree to fund "any associated operating losses". Such is the Power Of The Shapps. When you think of all the suburban stations that'd never get built today if you applied the same logic, the economic argument is absurd. I caught the bus back. It took ages.
Richmond: unvisited for 731 days (i.e. two years and one day)
I love a hike across Richmond Park, not least because there's always another path to follow, another corner to explore and another expanse to get lost in. This time I walked from the Queen's Gate to the Bog Gate, making sure to divert via the Isabella Plantation where the rhododendrons are already starting to bloom and the heathers are sparkling. It both cheered me up and made me sad I'd missed two previous springs. Later when crossing the boggy expanse near White Ash Lodge I was so preoccupied while edging round the muddy bits that I completely missed a herd of grazing deer until I was almost upon them. Two dozen heads looked up... and one of those heads had antlers and seemed to be looking more sternly than the rest. I kept moving and hastened towards the next quagmire, reflecting that I'd be fine because it's not rutting season and I didn't have a dog. I've missed these walks.
Kingston: unvisited for 731 days
The Coronation Stone outside Kingston Guildhall commemorates the unlikely fact that seven Kings of England were crowned in the town, not precisely here but in a chapel round the back of Pret A Manger. We're talking 10th century, so that'd be Edward the Elder, Athelstan, Edmund I, Eadred, Eadwig, Edward the Martyr and Ethelred the Unready. This greywether sandstone lump has been moved several times since the chapel collapsed, first (1730) beside the parish church, then (1825) beside the Elizabethan Guildhall, then (1840) to the Yard of the Courts, then (1850) beside the road outside Clattern House, then (1935) to the Garden of Rest in Church Street and finally (1936) to its current position outside the Guildhall. According to a planning notice tied to the railings it's due to be repaired and cleaned soon, and to have a brand new interpretation board installed. I hope the new board is as informative as the current engraving, which looks to have been there since the 1980s and resembles a typed sheet of paper.
Hillingdon: unvisited for 744 days (i.e. two years and two weeks)
This is Kingshill Parade in Hayes (or rather Hayes End, or perhaps North Hayes, depending on how you choose to subdivide this sprawling suburb), a tad to the north of the Uxbridge Road. It's the chief shopping centre for a large postwar estate you have no need of ever visiting, nor even passing through, hence I never previously had. Here you can source helium balloons, pick'n'mix and private tutors along with other household staples, and admire a municipal stack of floral baskets. You can also get your ear pierced at Jeff's Gents Hairdressers, wash your smalls at Brookfords Launderette and pick between Costcutter and the Co-Op for your milk. But what gladdened my heart was the sight of Kingshill Bakery, independent purveyors of freshly baked bread & cakes, filled rolls & sandwiches. I grew up with a bakery like this at the top of my road, its window brimming with loaves, cream cakes and sticky buns (although back then they wouldn't have given their iced doughnuts such prominence).
The lunchtime rush was underway, which in this part of the world means two local tradesmen popping in for a buttered baguette, so I had to wait almost thirty seconds before being served. My eye was caught by the ovens out back, confirming fresher bakes than anything Pret'll serve you, and also by the prices on the whiteboard, confirming cheaper bakes than everything Benugo does. I plumped for a cheese and bacon slice but the headscarfed server frowned and told me they didn't have any, so I switched my selection to one of the hot cross buns in the window instead. She slipped it into a white paper bag and spun it round, then charged me a ridiculously low 45p for my plump juicy treat. It was delicious, and all the better because it was unintentionally topped off with a smear of cherry from a previously adjacent danish. What fools we are to live in inner London when the proper haute cuisine is on the outskirts.
Harrow: unvisited for 744 days
I was changing buses in Northolt yesterday (as part of my research for tomorrow's post) when I realised I was only one minute's walk from the Ealing/Harrow boundary. Obviously I nipped down to the railway bridge and back again so I could say I'd been, because that's how I roll, and I also took a single photo in case it proved useful as visual evidence. This is that photo. Don't worry Harrow, I'll be back to see you properly soon. And I still need to drop by four other boroughs I haven't been to for over two years, but maybe I can make a post out of those later.
