Twenty years ago, on my first Random Borough trip, my jamjar took me to Merton and I only gave it a one-day write-up. Two decades later I'm doing Merton justice by giving it three days, of which this is the last, so buckle down to learn about fertiliser, philanthropy and phone masts.
Before I start with 'somewhere famous', yes I know that Merton's most well-known thing is undoubtedly the Wimbledon tennis tournament but I chose that last time. I also picked the other frontrunner, Wimbledon Common, and wider recognition tails off somewhat after those. So I've decided to focus instead on a famous resident, or at least a resident with a famous name who never saw the product everyone knows him for.
Somewhere famous: John Innes Park John Innes, the name on many a bag of compost, was born nowhere near here in 1829. He started out as a wine merchant in the City of London but made his money by starting an office property company with his brother, and that's when his eyes turned to Merton. He bought up Manor Farm, installed himself as Lord of the Manor and set about developing an extensive garden suburb on the site. Merton Park's still a really nice garden suburb, but we'll get to that. John died in 1904 after three decades of local do-gooding and, in a will changed a week before his passing, bequeathed significant funds to found either an art museum or a horticultural institute. His trustees picked the latter, as you might have guessed, and that set in train the events by which he's now known.
John's buried in the churchyard of St Mary the Virgin at the heart of the estate, which unusually for a mid-suburban church is very early medieval and retains 12th century crossbeams in the roof of the nave. I hoped to get inside to see Edward Burne-Jones' stained glass and Lord Nelson's bench (he was a regular worshipper here towards the end of his life) but it was only possible to get as far as the porch. Not to worry, that was far enough to be able to pick up a Churchyard Trail leaflet, and even without that it's immediately obvious looking down the churchyard that only one memorial has anywhere near the required dimensions to be John Innes' final resting place. Nice cherubs. Also the grass near the tomb was flourishing with spring flowers, including primroses and my very first bluebell of the year, which I thought was very appropriate for someone everyone thinks of as a famous horticulturalist.
The streets hereabouts are lovely, a few predating suburban development but mostly broad avenues lined by large desirable properties in Queen Anne and Domestic Revival styles. A particular feature of the estate is the use of holly hedges to act as garden boundaries. These days the area forms a substantial conservation area, one of many on this side of Merton, each readily identified by a special form of light blue street sign. Various pinned-up notices seem to suggest that the estate has a significant problem with dogs being rowdy and digging things up, especially behind the church hall, but this may just be a reflection of the residents association being run by sticklers and perfectionists.
The finest public facility hereabouts is undoubtedly John Innes Park, several manicured acres of recreational resource. The name's not just bolted on, these were originally the grounds of John's house transformed into a proper park and opened five years after his death. Its twisting paths link rockeries, lawns and well-tended flower beds, which even now include a riot of carefully-planted pansies and some almost past-it camellias, all interspersed by up to fifteen different types of holly. The park's designer supplemented the planting with a bijou bandstand, an ornamental arch and, in what's now a bit of a novelty, an Arts and Crafts toilet block. As an indication of status there's also a croquet lawn, and as confirmation that we're near Wimbledon the tennis courts are surfaced in purple and green. You'd be blessed to have this on your doorstep.
You can see John Innes's revamped manor house in this photo, just behind the pergola just to the right of the pond. It's now part of Rutlish School, a boys' secondary whose most famous past pupil is Sir John Major, and whose campus also incorporates buildings from the original John Innes Horticultural Institution. It was here in the 1930s that scientists developed the iconic soil-based John Innescomposts, releasing their formulae into the public domain in 1938 and never profiteering from their manufacture. In 1950 the Institution upped sticks and moved to Bayfordbury near Hertford, and in 1967 moved again to more modern premises in Colney on the edge of Norwich. They continue to do great work but it's one product invented in Merton that brought them widespread fame, named after a man who could never have guessed he'd be remembered for a product sprinkled across gardens nationwide. by tram: Merton Park; by bus: K5
Somewhere random: Cranmer Green
I wanted this to be properly random so I handed over my decision to the local free paper. I picked up a copy of the South London Press from a hopper outside Wimbledon Park station and decided to visit the location of a Merton-related news story inside. It's 48 pages long and full of news, I reasoned, so there are bound to be several. Not so. The paper's circulation area in fact covers nine boroughs, but out of the 40+ news stories poor Merton was the subject of only two. One was a parliamentary candidate moaning about GP waiting times, no location specified, so I was forced instead to visit the site of a recent protest documented on what appeared to be the NIMBY page.
It's a familiar tale - phone company proposes building a mast to improve connectivity, local residents object. In this case the phone company was EE and the locality was Cranmer Green, a triangular offshoot of Mitcham Common between the railway line and the cricket ground. We can't have a 20m pole and six cabinets on our village green, protestorsclaimed, there are vulnerable pensioners in those flats and this is their nearest green space. "It's 100ft from the church where people get married," one said. "It will be an eyesore. It will have a negative impact on the community.” Residents even went to the effort of organising a coffee morning to encourage objections, not to mention printing special t-shirts, and as the local paper reports they actually won.
Cranmer Green turns out to be rather pleasant, a nature reserve underlain by sands and gravels and an unfenced respite from the busy roads around the edge. Much of it is meadow, part of it is woodland and there's also a small pond which was probably dug in the 18th century to provide water for livestock. Oddly the green has a dead end road up the middle complete with period lampposts - this is a conservation area after all - which it seems is solely used for parking. It's also all terribly squidgy at the moment, with large parts of the grass resembling small pools and footpaths you'd need wellies for, but the southern stripe with the daffodils was thankfully more solid. I can see why the council refused permission, I thought, because adding a pole and boxes here would be an aberration.
Except the mast was actually scheduled to be added to an entirely separate patch of grass across the road - more shared municipal lawn than village green. When residents claimed it would 'cast a shadow' over protected land that is literally all it would do, and as for that claim it'd be '100ft from the church' I measured it and it's actually over 800. Always take the mathematical accuracy of a crusading campaigner with a pinch of salt. That said I probably wouldn't want a big mast beside my house either, especially in a freshly fenced compound, but the winners here are really the residents of Cranmer Farm Close and not the chiffchaffs, moorhens and butterflies on Cranmer Green proper. There are many more important news stories across Merton, but they're not in the local paper. by train: Mitcham Junction; by bus: 127, S1
I'm not going to continue the random sequence by revisiting Islington in three months time - one fully upgraded borough was enough - but that's how jamjar-inspired reportage has evolved twenty years later.
