Today we're off to the only south London suburb that starts with The, namely The Wrythe which is a significant part of Sutton. Essentially it's North Carshalton but has had a separate identity since medieval times, actual residents since Victorian times and today forms a characterful nucleus amid the sprawl of an enormous housing estate. Let's start in the heart of the old hamlet and then go for a long walk up two former country lanes that bear the Wrythe name. Don't expect to learn anything of long term consequence.
The area of Carshalton known as The Rithe was first recorded in 1229, a rithe being a small stream. Initially it was merely somewhere useful to extract gravel, then somewhere to hide a workhouse, and only after improvements in drainage at the start of the 1800s did a small hamlet grow up. All these facts I took from an information board on Wrythe Green, a bow-tie-shaped patch of common land that's still semi-recognisably the old village green. These days it doubles up as a criss-cross gyratory for cars heading in from Morden and Hackbridge, but the cottages along the northern side are still recognisably original. Waterloo Place has a plaque claiming to be 1845, Little Ferncote is adorably timbered and the newsagent has a very fine protruding gallery window. Make the most of all this heritage because there's very little where we're heading later.
Wrythe Green's not looking its best at the moment because the council are currently digging up a large chunk for drainage reasons. But the fragment with the old mulberry tree and the new community orchard is untouched, and the green wedge with the war memorial remains the most popular place to sit, probably because it's closest to the shops. The Wrythe has a very decent local parade, peaking with an M&S Food if you head round the back of the garage. Three other retail highlights are Melyvn Clarke (a proper throwback ironmongers selling six-piece brush sets and steel toe-capped wellies), Purrfect For Pets (who were celebrating their 35th birthday yesterday with a prize raffle) and Nana B's (a cafe with cloyingly pink sofas specialising in cakes and brownies). Make the most of all this aspirational consumption because there's very little where we're heading later.
Wrythe Lane, which we're about to follow north, starts with an ornate drinking fountain at the entrance to a large recreation ground. Both date to 1900, just as the hamlet was starting to grow, and the fountain is the principal remaining reference to the small stream which sprang from the ground on the site of the petrol station. All this I took from an information board on the railings, along with the additional fact that the fountain's taps are 2019 replicas. A pub and a church once stood on the next stretch, the modern highlights alas merely a kebab shop and a self-storage depot, and then the enormous spread of houses begins. 100 years ago the London County Council looked at this country lane and thought "what this really needs is hundreds of front gardens, and then some," and so the St Helier estate came to be.
As council houses go they're quite varied, a tiled pitched roof the only constant, and often bunched together in sixes rather than pairs. Nobody gets a garage but everybody gets a front garden so parking isn't hard. And homes are packed in everywhere, up umpteen interlocking sideroads, making age-old Wrythe Lane a modern busy feeder. Before the LCC descended and swallowed up 800 acres most of this was low quality farmland, mostly market gardening but dotted here and there with lavender fields and piggeries. One of the farms was originally called Pig Farm, then Hill Farm, and its timber barn was one of the last buildings to be demolished. All these facts I took from an information board on the exterior of a rotunda, indeed the estate seems keen to grasp at any scrap of history it can find.
Halfway up is a seriously traditional parade of shops where one of the barbers attracts custom by having a giant model of Superman in the window and spicy food barely gets a look in. Of the two greasy spoons, the Tudor Cafe and H's, the former must do a better fry-up judging by the crowd outside on the sun terrace. And then the houses return, so many houses, as Wrythe Lane continues its gentle ascent and peaks somewhere in the 250s. To the resident whose green recycling box was overflowing with nothing but crushed cans of Stella Artois, perhaps tone it down a bit. Ahead is the best known building hereabouts, St Helier Hospital, which would once have looked fabulously modern but now resembles a teetering stack of white boxes in urgent need of replacement. If nothing else it means the area gets a very decent bus service.
St Helier Open Space is a Green Flag park which would be a tad nicer if it didn't have pylons sailing high across it. Closest to the hospital is a Garden of Reflection recently added as a memorial to those lost in the pandemic, both staff and patients, with woody sculptures, butterfly benches and supposedly uplifting poems. And then the shops return, this time three dozen strong because this redbrick parade is the St Helier estate's chief retail hub. It says a lot for the age of the surrounding population that two of them are funeral directors. The cuisine here is more diverse, but if you want to sit in your mobility scooter and eat pancakes covered with squirty cream accompanied by a mug of tea you can. The big Lidl at the end overlooks the massive Rosehill roundabout, formerly a minor rural crossroads, and that was Wrythe Lane.
Let's rewind to The Wrythe, a mile and a half back, and walk north up Green Wrythe Lane instead. It's well named because it is indeed greener for much of its length, retaining a line of trees to one side of the road along a dandelioned grassy stripe. Its houses seem a little nicer too, more desirably right-to-buy, and this time there are over 400 of them. Everything on the right hand side of the road originally belonged to Batts Farm whose fields rolled all the way down to the River Wandle and whose farmer, George Miller, once distilled his own lavender (according to more facts from that rotunda). And where the farm track joined the lane the LCC built a roundabout called The Circle and surrounded it by a full-on neighbourhood hub. i.e. yet another parade of shops.
The Fudgecakes Bakery looked tempting until I saw they couldn't spell the word 'pasteries'. The Boujee salon lets its customers vape on the pavement with a headful of foil while their blond streaks set. The halal butcher has closed down but still has a 'Cheap Boiler' sign out front left over from the previous failed tenant. And the block of flats on the northeastern corner is where the St Helier Arms used to be, one of just three pubs provided for the estate's population of 40,000 and all now gone. Even today it's easier to buy bacon and eggs round here than a draught pint, indeed that remains impossible. The final stretch of Green Wrythe Lane passes the library, more pylons, deep undergrowth, two phone masts and of course lots and lots more houses. All these facts I got from visiting The Wrythe and exploring in person, from the old village green up its transformed lanes across those former fields.
