Sometimes you just want to go for a drab walk, nothing too exciting, a beast of a stroll, little to see, grim views, monstrous buildings, distant from public transport, no refreshment options, mildly risky, won't take long. So here's a cheerless mile and a half along the estuary east of Thamesmead, nowhere near enough to make a day of it but a not nice walk all the same.
Let's start in Thamesmead at Cross Ness, a barely-perceptible headland on the inside of a slight bend on the Thames. Its chief distinguishing feature is a red lighthouse, or rather a metal tower with ladder access painted bright red with a lamp on top. Another of these old navigational signals shines forth at Tripcock Ness but we're not going in that direction, we're going east. A fascinating fact about Cross Ness is that it's the most northerly point in south London, beating Blackfriars, Rotherhithe and North Greenwich by about half a mile, thus considerably beyond any cabbie's remit. It's also one of the few spots on the upcoming walk where a grass track encourages you to leave the main path and explore the foreshore, but don't expect to get far.
If you choose to soak in the view, north London has been reduced to a thin stripe across the estuary sandwiched between heavy sky and choppy grey water. Upstream the outlying suburb of Barking Riverside is taking shape atop a spoilheap, while downstream the banks are almost entirely industrial with bulk silos for liquid storage, lengthy sheds, heaps of aggregate and the occasional pier. Meanwhile on this southern side, screened behind stark concrete flood defences, we find the last outposts of the Thamesmead estate. Here urban planners designed a tortuous network of liminal cul-de-sacs, and a few 'lucky' souls on St Andrews Close get to look out across the estuary at all the gribbly stuff London needs but would rather not share. Even for Thamesmead this is living off the grid.
Then the houses stop, and indeed won't reappear for almost three miles because the south bank is full-on muckydustrial too. First up is a disused golf course because, unsurprisingly, estuarine Thamesmead proved a hard sell for Pringle-jumpered players so the nine holes closed in 2014. You won't see much of it but you will see the sign alongside welcoming you to the Ridgeway, the sewertop path that's southeast London's answer to Newham's Greenway. Were you seeking an alternative off-piste safari you could walk all the way to Plumstead, but we've only just started on this walk and that's still marginally more 'not nice' than the Ridgeway. Best commit now because the next escape point is a long way ahead.
Crossness Sewage Works is renowned amongst industrial archaeologists for its stupendous Victorian ironwork, but unfortunately the next Open Day's not until mid-March and you won't see anything amazing from the path. Instead you're about to be trapped behind an incredibly secure perimeter for half a mile, occasionally glimpsing pumping stations, blending tanks and sludge digesters through the fence. Here you'll find barriers to weave round, concrete ramps to climb and umpteen warning notices to read, possibly even a disturbing smell, because south London doesn't get to expel its excrement here without a grubby backside.
This is the Crossness Pathway, kindly opened by Thames Water in 2000 with cyclists and step-free access in mind. It may not be Thameside nirvana but it's much better than Beckton where you can't pass along the river at all. Expect to meet several joggers, but only keen ones because they must be on some phenomenal loop. Expect to meet several feral hounds, hopefully on a leash, because Thamesmead's residents believe in owning dogs of fearless character. Expect to meet several people carrying binoculars because the marsh/mud interface brims with seabirds at low tide. And expect to have to dodge out of the way once or twice while a youth on a motorbike buzzes by, probably helmetless, because this side of Bexley is very much unlike Sidcup.
The extraordinary silver building with a curvaceous chimney belching steam into the sky is the Crossness Sewage Incinerator. It's become a landmark on the estuarine horizon for miles since it was opened by Prince Philip in November 1998. Here raw sludge cake is combusted at temperatures up to 950°C, then cleaned of pollutants before being ejected, and however amazing it looks the underlying process is very much not nice. A sign here announces that you've just entered the Belvedere and Erith Marshes, although this may be hard to discern with so much waste-based infrastructure built across it. But a thin marshy strip survives between the incinerator and the next silver beast, which if you choose to step down leads inexorably into the Crossness Nature Reserve. I walked halfway in once and was dazzled by the bleak emptiness of the place, and would advise waiting for a less squidgy month before attempting to follow suit.
The next metal monster is the Riverside Resource Recovery Facility, a swoosh-topped chamber which turns London's waste into useful energy. A lot of this comes in by barge via the stonking great pier with its orange cranes, though hopefully not while you're here because that would block your onward progress. The RRRF generates up to 72 megawatts of electricity which is a dozen times better than the sludge incinerator, and is so successful that a second plant is just about to be built nextdoor, hopefully coming online in 2026. No authority would dare construct anything like this in Richmond or Wandsworth, but here in liminal Bexley there's plenty of space to hide all this and a whole lot more.
What's being hidden next is distribution centres. Most of the major supermarkets have huge logistical warehouses out here in the Erith hinterland where no customer will ever see them, including Ocado, Tesco, Ocado again and Asda. Closest to the river is Lidl who've recently added a second megashed fed by a sequence of numbered lorryports to help keep the Kent and South East region well stocked. Behind that is an Amazon depot from which spew forth dozens of delivery vans at unnervingly regular intervals, because all that stuff that arrives on your doorstep has to be despatched from somewhere. I often smile at the fact that this area is called Belvedere because scenic it definitely ain't.
I've chosen to end my walk here because a mile and a half is enough misery for anyone, but however you choose to proceed you're going to have to walk a lot further to reach non-industrial civilisation. The normal continuation is to bend south along the Thames Path past more sheds and silos until you ultimately reach Erith, enjoying wheeling seabirds, acres of estuarine mud and downbeat views of Rainham across the water. Or you can divert inland down Crabtree Manorway past commercial fortresses, potholed drives and hoodied minimum-wagers until TfL eventually deign to provide a bus stop. And whilst some will argue that the walk from Thamesmead has been invigoratingly panoramic and stimulatingly bleak, your average Londoner is never coming all this way, not when it's as not nice as this.
I must have left my house at eight, because I always do
Actually I used to leave my house at seven and walk down to the bus station to catch the quarter past. I was always one of the first into work because that meant I could get more done before everyone else turned up.
My train, I'm certain, left the station just when it was due
But on this particular Friday, atypically, yes I caught the train. For highly unlikely reasons (which would prove life-changing) I'd been allowed a day off to attend an event in London, and even better work was paying the £29 for a peak ticket. My train, I'm certain, left Bedford station at half past eight.
I must have read the morning paper going into town
Not on this particular Friday. Normally I bought one from Forbuoys in Greenhill Street, assuming they'd raised the shutters early enough, and would then flick through the first few pages on the bus. But today my routine was very different, plus I had company on the train and it wouldn't have been polite to read throughout the journey.
And having gotten through the editorial, no doubt I must have frowned
Oh come on, Brits don't buy newspapers whose editorials they disagree with. I don't know what the editorial was that day, but I do know I read it because I picked up a free copy of my newspaper at the event later in the day.
I must have made my desk around a quarter after nine
If I'd made my desk at 9.15 on a normal day then I'd have been told off for being very late. On this particular day we made it to the event just after ten and collected our badges from reception. I confess I'd showed off along the way by knowing how the tube worked better than my companion.
With letters to be read, and heaps of papers waiting to be signed
That wasn't how my job worked... although ABBA were right, everything was paper-based in those pre-email days. My unusual Friday involved acquiring paper rather than processing it, but I did manage to enter a bit of data into a spreadsheet because 1998 wasn't entirely behind the times.
I must have gone to lunch at half past twelve or so
Quarter past twelve actually. We looked at the venue's price list and were so aghast we made do with just soup, not that we were ever able to work out what kind of soup it was.
The usual place, the usual bunch
The usual place for guzzling down my packed lunch was separate from my colleagues. They'd perfected the art of taking a full hour off but I didn't feel the need to join them chatting and gossiping, I was more into using every minute to make sure my afternoon went smoothly.
And still on top of this I'm pretty sure it must have rained
Ah I know this one, no it didn't. Inexplicably someone has uploaded the BBC weather forecast for Friday 16th January 1998 to YouTube, and I've watched it and the skies were mainly clear that day with no showers due until Sunday.
The day before you came
Technically it was the other way round, you stayed put and I came over to yours. But yes this was indeed Day Minus One, and I had no idea of the pivotal tipping point due to occur in approximately 24 hours time.
I must have lit my seventh cigarette at half past two
Heavens no, I've never puffed on a cigarette in my life. I have other unhealthy habits but not that one. I was never tempted not least because I had no desire to smell constantly like an ashtray. If you'd been a smoker I don't think our upcoming rendezvous would have got much further.
And at the time I never even noticed I was blue
I wasn't blue but I was in a rut and I genuinely hadn't noticed. I had very few friends, mainly because most people at work were much older than me, so I plodded on alone because that's how I assumed my life was going to be. A big social jolt lay immediately ahead.
I must have kept on dragging through the business of the day
On a normal day business might have dragged but this was anything but, I was on the loose in central London with a budget and making executive decisions all by myself. On a typical day work was all about clockwatching but this felt like unbridled freedom.
Without really knowing anything, I hid a part of me away
Given the choice what I'd rather have done was stay up in London for the evening and made the most of its multiple opportunities, but I couldn't because my work colleague was heading home to his family and I was expected to tag along. That said if I hadn't gone straight home I'd never have made the phone call that led to tomorrow, so thanks colleague.
At five I must have left, there's no exception to the rule
No I was usually out of work well before then, mainly because if I left it until after five there wasn't a bus home for ages. On this particular day we escaped the event before half past three, mainly because we could but also because it was a long trip home.
A matter of routine, I've done it ever since I finished school
I don't think I've ever worked in a job with a fixed hometime, not since I was at school. Admittedly in my last job I did eventually get to the stage where my terms and conditions said I could leave at four so I invariably did, and a lot of people who didn't realise I'd been in since eight must've thought I was a total slacker.
The train back home again
That'd be the four fifteen from St Pancras. It'd be another three years before my commute home again involved a train, and this shift would ultimately be because of the meet-up I was about to have tomorrow.
Undoubtedly I must have read the evening paper then
No, I read the morning paper instead because I now had a copy, and because my colleague had thankfully succumbed to tiredness and fallen asleep. Also the Evening Standard wasn't free back in 1998 and I had no intention of buying an unnecessary copy.
Oh yes, I'm sure my life was well within it's usual frame the day before you came
I really can't emphasise this enough, my 'Day Before You Came' was about as atypical as it ever got.
I must have opened my front door at eight o'clock or so
I have never understood why Agnetha took an hour and a quarter to travel to work but three hours to get home. Today I managed to open my front door about five o'clock, which wasn't bad after whizzing back from London but later than I normally allowed on a Friday.
And stopped along the way to buy some Chinese food to go
Fish and chips would have been more likely, given it was Friday. On the Wednesday I had in fact stopped off for a double cheeseburger because Burger King had them on special offer. But what I actually had this particular Friday evening was a tasty pork chop, as whipped out from my fridge and lightly grilled.
I'm sure I had my dinner watching something on TV
That'd be TFI Friday, with this particular episode featuring special guests All Saints, Barbara Windsor and Neil Tennant. Or if I was eating slowly it might have been Top of the Pops, with Jayne Middlemiss introducing the Lighthouse Family, All Saints and Robbie Williams doing Angels.
There's not, I think, a single episode of Dallas that I didn't see
It was Brookside I never ever missed, although tonight's episode was interrupted by my brother ringing up about our upcoming trip to Eurodisney. We'd left it so late to book that the only alternative was first class on Eurostar and a plusher hotel than we'd have liked, but needs must.
I must have gone to bed around a quarter after ten
If I'm ever in bed that early I am seriously unwell. On this particular evening I was online at ten chatting to my potential date for Saturday, trying hard to explain that I really was interested even though I was 80 miles away. In due course I was going to end up being the one that did almost all the travelling, but I didn't know that yet.
I need a lot of sleep, and so I like to be in bed by then
I never have needed a lot of sleep, I'm much more a half twelve kind of person. As things turned out I wasn't going to get a lot of sleep the following night...
I must have read a while
No, I wrote my diary instead. I always do, it helps to summarise a day, and how brilliant that I did because I now have a perfect snapshot of how mundane my life was the day before everything changed. It's also invaluable to have a record of the two years that followed, mainly to remind myself that it was rarely perfect and all the warning signs were there.
The latest one by Marilyn French or something in that style
I've never read a Marilyn French. I've also never read a Barbara Cartland, as per the Blancmange cover version. Both could probably have offered wise advice about rogues and relationships, but instead I was about to discover all this first hand.
It's funny, but I had no sense of living without aim
And there in a nutshell is the brilliance of an ABBA lyric. Back in 1998 I was totally 'living without aim', merely getting on with things with no thought of where I was heading. I could easily have carried on in a risk-free furrow -
adrift, ambitionless and socially inert.
The day before you came
Instead I gave change a try and bingo, by the end of the year I had new friends in a completely different part of the country, a new job in the bag, a new car on the order books and big plans to move house. I would never have believed any of this the day before you came.
And turning out the light I must have yawned and cuddled up for yet another night
No no no, there was no cuddling, I had nobody to cuddle, it'd been almost a year since I'd last managed an overnight cuddle. There's a lot to be said for having a double bed to yourself but also, as I was about to find out, also a lot to be said for sharing one on a regular basis.
And rattling on the roof I must have heard the sound of rain
No Björn, we've already established that this metaphor for misery never happened. Plus I wasn't miserable, merely underachieving at everything other than work.
The day before you came
Given everything that was about to happen, I really wish you hadn't. And given everything that followed on afterwards, I'm bloody glad you did.
Neighbourhoods Child's Hill: The Child in question was Richard le Child, a 14th century landowner. Joyden's Wood: The Joyden in question was William Jordayne, a 16th-century resident of Dartford. Pratt's Bottom: The Pratt in question was Stephen Pratt, another 14th century Kentish landowner. Shooter's Hill: The shooters in question may have been medieval bowmen practising archery or may have been highwaymen with pistols. St Luke's: The Luke in question was the evangelist Luke, after whom the church off Old Street was dedicated. St Paul's Cray: The Paul in question was St Paulinus, the 7th century missionary and Archbishop of York after whom the local church is dedicated. (n.b. St Mary Cray is not possessive)
see also: Earl's Court, King's Cross, Queen's Park, St James's, St John's Wood, Shepherd's Bush
Tube stations Earl's Court: The earl in question was the Earl of Oxford, the head of the de Vere family whose medieval manor included Kensington. King's Cross St Pancras: The king in question was George IV, whose monument stood here for just 15 years before being demolished. Queen's Park: The queen in question was Queen Victoria after whom a local estate was named in the 1870s. Regent's Park: The regent in question was George IV who was Prince Regent when the royal park was laid out in 1810s. St James's Park: The James in question was St James the Less, after whom a medieval leper hospital was dedicated. St John's Wood: The John in question was Saint John of Jerusalem, whose Knights Hospitaller owned a wood in the vicinity in the 14th century. St Paul's: The Paul in question was the apostle Paul, to whom the City's cathedral is dedicated. Shepherd's Bush/Shepherd's Bush Market: The shepherd in question may have been a typical user of the common land hereabouts or might have been a man called Sheppard, nobody's sure.
...and formerly: Collier's Wood (until 1987), Paddington Bishop's Road (until 1933), Queen's Road (until 1946, now Queensway), St James' Park (until 1951) ...but NOT: Barons Court, Bounds Green, Canons Park, Gants Hill, Golders Green, Knightsbridge, Parsons Green, Rayners Lane ...and definitely not: Arnos Grove, Theydon Bois
[n.b. anorak level tube apostrophe history here and here]
Other stations Walthamstow Queen's Road: The queen in question was Queen Victoria, after whom a new road to Walthamstow Cemetery was named in 1872 (but that's Queens Road, not Queen's Road)
...but NOT: Bowes Park, Crews Hill, Devons Road, Elmers End, Gallions Reach, Gants Hill, Haydons Road, Highams Park, Palmers Green, Petts Wood, Phipps Bridge, Ponders End, Raynes Park, Queens Road Peckham, St James Street, St Johns or St Margarets
Waterways Counter's Creek: The countess in question may be Matilda, after whom the bridge carrying Kensington High Street across the river was perhaps named. Duke of Northumberland's River: The duke in question was lord of the manor of Isleworth during the reign of Henry VIII. Earl's Sluice: The earl in question was the Earl of Gloucester during the reign of Henry I. Regent's Canal: The regent in question was George IV who was Prince Regent when the canal was dug in the 1810s.
...but NOT: Deans Brook, Frays River, Pymmes Brook, Salmons Brook.
Green spaces Grim's Ditch: The Grim in question was possibly the devil, or perhaps Grimnr the Old English equivalent of the Norse god Odin. Lincoln's Inn Fields: The yellowbelly in question was Henry de Lacy, 3rd Earl of Lincoln, who encouraged lawyers to move to Holborn in the 15th century. Lord's: The Lord in question was Thomas Lord, a professional cricketer who moved his cricket ground here in 1814. Myatt'sFields Park: The Myatt in question was Joseph Myatt, a Camberwell market gardener famed for his rhubarb (after whom 'Myatt’s Offenham compacta' cabbage was named). Postman's Park: The postmen in question were Victorian workers on lunch break from the General Post Office nextdoor. Queen's Wood: The queen in question was Victoria because in 1898 this sounded better than Churchyard Bottom Wood.
Museums and attractions Claridge's: The hoteliers in question were William and Marianne Claridge who expanded into six houses on Brook Street in 1854. Gray's Inn: The Gray in question was Reginald de Grey, 1st Baron Grey of Wilton, a 13th century nobleman. Hay's Galleria: The Hay in question was Alexander Hay, a merchant who acquired the former brewhouse in 1651. King's Road: The king in question was Charles I who used this private road to nip between Whitehall and Kew. Lloyd's of London: The Lloyd in question was Edward Lloyd, owner of Lloyd's Coffee House on Tower Street where the insurance market began. Queen's House: The queen in question was Anne of Denmark, wife of James VI of Scotland and James I of England and Wales. Sadler's Wells: The Sadler in question was Richard Sadler who opened a "Musick House" alongside springs in Clerkenwell in 1683.
see also: Butler's Wharf, Carlyle's House, Cleopatra's Needle, Dennis Severs' House, Dr. Johnson's House, Hogarth's House, Keats' House, Nelson's Column, Ranger's House, St Bartholomew's Hospital, St James's Palace, St Paul's Cathedral, Sir John Soane's Museum
...but NOT: Harrods, Selfridges ...and no longer: Madame Tussaud's
There are 50 places in London where three boroughs meet. I've already brought you thrilling reportage from severalofthem (including all the triple points around Wandsworth and Havering), and today I'm excited to bring you news of The Triple Points of Sutton. There are two of them.
1)Merton/Sutton/Croydon
This borough triple point is on the eastern edge of Mitcham Common, precisely at the point where Croydon Road becomes Mitcham Road. This is not a coincidence. The nearest tram stop is Therapia Lane which is a ten minute walk away. The 264 bus passes through the triple point and will drop you off much closer. What surprised me most standing here was the astonishing number of learner drivers heading past, more than I've ever seen in any other part of London, which it turned out was for a good reason. Let's take a look at the three adjacent boroughs.
Merton: entirely common
Mitcham Common is a varied open space almost 500 acres in extent and crisscrossed by oft-jammed roads, of which Croydon Road is one. This is the quieter end of the common with a number of hummocky rises, isolated ponds and not many trees. Near the triple point I found a list of byelaws dating from 1994, a map of the common that looked almost as old and a line of bollards to stop joyriders attempting impromptu motocross. It must be less of a mudbath in summer, and is probably less litter-strewn if you walk a few metres further, but it's still much more pleasant than the Sutton or Croydon sectors.
Sutton: light industrial
A lot of northeast Sutton is light industrial, even industrial, which is what tended to happen in the old days when a railway passed nearby. The former Preserving Works and Depot by the triple point are long gone and have been replaced by a big Selco warehouse which is a magnet for whitevanmen in need of sawn treated timber, flexible fast set tile adhesive and other diverse building supplies. Other trade sheds lurk behind, should you need plumbing pipes or bathroom bits, plus more hardcore silos belonging to a global manufacturer called Zotefoams. Until 2004 a pub called The Jolly Gardeners served pints inches from the triple point but was then demolished and the site used for a car wash, and today a vast grey shed containing seven warehouse units is rising in its place. The road alongside is called Red House Lane, a dead end I assumed all the learners were using for reversing manoeuvres but which turned out to be the location of Mitcham Test Centre hence the phenomenal L-plate density. Mind how you cross.
Croydon: mostly residential
The highest numbered house on Mitcham Road is number 692 because that's how far from central Croydon we are. A newish block of flats occupies the 700 spot while the cottages by the triple point have long been swallowed by a BP petrol station. This offers Costa caffeine, Subway carbs and Morrisons groceries to visiting drivers, and perhaps something a little stronger to those celebrating a pass. Round the side is a bank of Amazon lockers, a dark red coffee cup and an illegible noticeboard. Yesterday morning a bike advertising "Man & Van £50 p/h" was attached but while I was walking past a man in yellow hi-vis emerged from the garage with a giant pair of cutters and uncoupled it, so it's probably been nicked by now.
2)Merton/Sutton/Kingston
Sutton's other triple point can be found four miles to the west sandwiched between Motspur Park and Worcester Park. Alas this one's off-limits being in the centre of the Beverley Brook, a river well-fortified in these parts. The nearest bus route is the S3, but not that close and not very often. Look for the three disused gasholders on the Kingston side because the precise spot's only 100m away.
Merton: quite sporty
Welcome to the Sir Joseph Hood Memorial Playing Fields, which may or may not be London's longest-named recreation ground. It was opened in 1935 in memory of the recently deceased Mayor of Wimbledon and over the years has gained umpteen football pitches, a paddling pool, a crazy golf course and a rather super 1950s pavilion. What most local dogwalkers do is go for one long loop round the perimeter path, pausing regularly to interact with hounds bounding in the opposite direction. What triple-point-seekers need to do is bear off into Sir Joseph Hood Memorial Wood, a former hunting covert brimming with old oaks, where the Beverley Brook runs along one side. The triple point is in the far southwest corner, not quite on any well-trodden footpath, and currently so muddy in places that I was forced to turn back before I ended up brown-trousered. Best seen in summer, if you really must.
Sutton: totally equine
You won't be getting close to the triple point on the Sutton side unless you're a horse. The Lower Morden Equestrian Centre covers 30 acres of scrubby pasture adjacent to a cemetery and is crossed by a line of pylons so is hardly the most glamorous place to come for riding lessons. On the positive side a fenced-off footpath passes through the site allowing toddlers to gawp and point at "funny horseys", plus Alex and Miranda are more than keen for anyone to drop by for free manure, and the paddocks somehow exude an underlying feel of rural fringe you don't normally expect in a city.
Kingston: borderline residential
Here's a cartographic oddity, a clump of five streets in Kingston that can only be accessed via Sutton because the railway gets in the way. Closest to the triple point is Kingshill Avenue, a horseshoe of interwar semis ideal for those who prefer their suburban bolthole without through traffic. One resident keeps a boat in their front garden which, judging by the width of the Beverley Brook hereabouts, looks highly optimistic. An alley at the northern tip connects to a shrunken patch of allotments and a squelchy lane which leads to the riverside and a securely locked gate. The sign by the padlock suggests that the land beyond is owned by SGN, the gas company whose CEO is Mark Wild, the bloke who this time last year was in charge of Crossrail. This fact doesn't make the triple point any easier to reach but I have at least now almost sort-of seen it.
Less than a mile away in Worcester Park is the triple point between Sutton, Kingston and Surrey, except the latter isn't a London borough so this doesn't count. It's also out of reach, in this case behind the car park of The Brook restaurant, but if you walk up The Avenue you should spot this excellent boundary marker marking the point where Malden and Coombe once met Epsom and Ewell. If I ever feel the need to bring you an unedifying series exploring the 17 triple points around the Greater London boundary, rest assured I'll be back.
In unexpected E3 gentrification news, Bromley-by-Bow station now has a coffee kiosk.
It opened just after Christmas in the tiny retail unit just before the gateline. It's called Dream Bean and appears to be linked to the kiosk of the same name at Plaistow station. It sells all the usual types of hot and frothy coffee, as well as tea and speciality teas for those who enjoy teabags dunked in boiling water prematurely sloshed in milk. I have not sampled their wares because I enjoy none of these things. I am reassured that they give their prices in normal money, not poncey numbers to one decimal place.
Espresso £1.60/£2.00
Americano £1.70/£2.10
Cappuccino/Latte/Mocha £2.20/£2.50
Flat White £2.50
They also have a glass cabinet of pastry things for people unable or unwilling to make breakfast at home, plus three shelves of crisps, chocolate bars, protein bars, digestive biscuits, extra strong mints and cough sweets. It's fairly standard stuff for many a tube station but quite revolutionary here at Bromley-by-Bow.
There used to be a tiny newsagents kiosk in the same location overseen by a cheerless bloke with a "no change given" sign but that closed ten years ago. Once people stopped buying newspapers of a morning there wasn't much point in staying open just to sell snacks and sweets, not in an area that was half low-income estates and half warehouses, so he shut up shop.
Ten years later many of those warehouses have been demolished and replaced with dense thrusting flats populated by young professionals who like a latte in the morning, hence the arrival of Dream Bean. No other chain coffee shops exist within a fifteen minute walk of Bromley-by-Bow station, it's still not that kind of place, but another rung on the gentrification ladder has now been achieved. Feel free to pop down - the ticket gates are always open.
Somewhere on the tube map are four consecutive stations containing the same word.
It happens on the South East rail map too.
I'll let you try and work out where they are while I run down some lesser combinations.
Two consecutive tube stations containing the same word is easy.
• Baker Street/Great Portland Street
• Bounds Green/Wood Green
• Caledonian Road/Holloway Road
• Oxford Circus/Piccadilly Circus
• Queen's Park/Kilburn Park
• Warren Street/Goodge Street
There are also numerous occasions where a place name is used at two consecutive stations, for example Dagenham, Kenton, Northwood, Putney, Sudbury, Tooting, Upminster, Wembley, Wimbledon and Woodford.
Three is rarer.
• Clapham North/Clapham Common/Clapham South
• East Acton/North Acton/West Acton
• East Finchley/Finchley Central/West Finchley
• Hounslow East/Hounslow Central/Hounslow West
• West Ruislip/Ruislip Gardens/South Ruislip
• Stratford International/Stratford/Stratford High Street
And if you allow two changes of trains there's this for four.
••• West Ealing/Ealing Broadway/Ealing Common/North Ealing
But all those threes and fours have involved place names.
The long chain I'm thinking of repeats an ordinary word.
I noticed when I was sitting on a train and they announced the next four stations and all four stations ended in the same word.
Here are those four consecutive stations.
They're on the Overground.
This is an impressively repetitive section of line.
Four Roads followed by two Parks followed by two Barkings.
By contrast the Victoria line has no consecutive stations with repeating words.
And nor does the Waterloo & City line.
The only other repeating foursome I've found is on the South Eastern High Speed line.
Again the onboard announcements give it away.
...calling at Ashford International, Ebbsfleet International, Stratford International and St Pancras International.
This is particularly stupid because Stratford International has never had any international services, and Ashford International and Ebbsfleet International haven't seen any international services since 2020.
But it's still four consecutive stations called 'International' and that totally counts.
I can find no other quadruples anywhere on the UK rail network.
Only these triples, most of which involve repeated place names.
• Ardrossan Harbour/Ardrossan Town/Ardrossan South Beach
• Barry Docks/Barry/Barry Island
• Exeter Central/Exeter St Davids/Exeter St Thomas
• Raynes Park/Motspur Park/Worcester Park
• Ryde Pier Head/Ryde Esplanade/Ryde St John's Road
• West Worthing/Worthing/East Worthing
Which means the UK's best consecutive station chain is on the Goblin in east London.
• Blackhorse Road/Walthamstow Queens Road/Leyton Midland Road/Leytonstone High Road
The town of Richmond boasts four Thames bridges along a half mile stretch of river. This is dead useful for those planning a jogging or dogwalking loop, and particularly convenient because there are no other bridges for over two miles in either direction. Even English Heritage are impressed to the extent of listing the lot of them.
"The succession of bridges here is most significant with the engineering feats of three consecutive centuries represented, the C20 by Twickenham Bridge of 1933 by Maxwell Ayrton, the C19 by Richmond Railway Bridge and the Footbridge of 1891, and the C18 by the culmination of the sequence and the oldest Greater London river crossing, Richmond Bridge of 1777, by James Paine and Kenton Couse."
If you wanted to cross the Thames hereabouts before the 18th century you had to use the ferry or else face a long detour to the bridge at Kingston or the ford at Brentford. A fixed crossing eventually became a necessity and Parliament aproved the building of a stone bridge to be paid for exclusively by tolls. Plans to construct it at the foot of Water Lane were thwarted when the landowner on the Twickenham side, the Dowager Duchess of Newcastle, refused permission so it had to be built on the site of the ferry instead. A humpbacked span in Portland stone soon emerged, the central arch higher than the others to allow shipping to pass through.
For the original shareholders it was a nice little earner, and only when the last of them died in 1859 were crossing charges (immediately) lifted. The next big challenge came in the 1930s with an increase in motorised traffic. The authorities resisted demolition and total replacement, opting instead to widen the bridge by demolishing the upstream side and rebuilding it stone by stone alongside lengthened piers. This cunning solution remains sufficient today and means that Richmond Bridge is technically the oldest bridge across the Thames anywhere between Abingdon and the North Sea.
It still looks magnificent whether you're up on the main span or admiring it from the riverside, perhaps with a hot drink on the terrace at the Tide Tables cafe. I tried to return to the precise spot where I took my most-liked-ever Flickr photograph last month, but an artist was already in place sketching the bridge in charcoal which just goes to show what a good spot it was. Today's photo was therefore taken on the western bank from the foot of the crumbling slipway (warning, parked vehicles may be partially submerged). Additional peculiarities worth seeking out include the massive milestone at the Surrey end, the foot tunnel which carries the Thames Path underneath and the splendid Victorian lamps which are still gas lit. The oldest bridge and still the best.
This bridge was needed when the London and South Western Railway decided they wanted to extend their line from Richmond to Windsor, and as such is one of the oldest railway bridges across the Thames. It crosses the edge of the Old Deer Park on a brick viaduct then launches across the river via three truss arches to land on the Twickenham side. The original was made of cast iron, which worried engineers when a similar bridge in Norbury collapsed so this one was duly rebuilt using steel in 1908, though retaining many of the original elements. Plaques facing the towpath approaches clearly state the name of the rebuilder - 'the Horseley and Co Ld / London and Tipton'. It's not a bad-looking bridge but perhaps suffers here from proximity to superior spans. My hunch is that the mustardy yellow paintwork is not the original colour.
This sleek crossing was built in the 1930s to help relieve traffic pressure on Richmond Bridge and was inserted downstream as part of the construction of the Chertsey Arterial Road, today the A316. Initial plans were for it to feature four 70-foot-high towers, but when the Daily Telegraph got wind of this intrusive abomination it spearheaded a NIMBY campaign and the end result was a much lower span. Again we have three arches but this time they're made from reinforced concrete, 45000 tons of the stuff, completed with a ribbed finish. HRH Edward, Prince of Wales, performed the opening ceremony.
The bridge is embellished with splendid Art Deco features, most notably the bronze lamp standards on the parapets. Elsewhere bronze has been used liberally to create decorative railings that span the bridge and also spiral down the stairwells in each corner, beguiling passers-by on the towpath to climb up for a classier view. The bridge was one of the first to incorporate internal hinges enabling the structure to adjust to changes in temperature, and these are shielded behind gorgeous wing-shaped bronze cover plates at the foot of each arch.
Although I'd previously walked under it (and also up one stairwell) I'd never walked across it, not until I made a special effort yesterday, so that's now every public crossing of the Thames crossed off.
This massive intervention is a lock first and a footbridge second. It's the lowest lock on the Thames and was built to try to stabilise water levels which previously tended to be overly shallow hereabouts, especially at low tide. The barrage which now blocks the river incorporates three mechanical sluice gates which are only raised for two hours either side of high tide. Outside these times boats have to pass through a lock instead and pay £10 for the privilege, with monies collected by the Port of London Authority who own the entire structure. It's a very Victorian solution and one that helps keep pleasurecraft upriver from coming into contact with awkward tidal flow.
The lock's designers also incorporated a footbridge, indeed two parallel crossings a few metres apart, not just as a convenience but also to allow spectators to get a closer look. A one penny toll was payable, or double that if you planned to linger. These days the turnstiles have gone and the elaborate tollbooths are empty, plus only one of the footbridges remains accessible. But the upper walkway still impresses - scaffolding excepted - with its elaborate cast iron balustrade, globe lamps and pastel green colour scheme.
I like how it's also still an integral part of the local neighbourhood, crossed by residents lugging their shopping home oblivious to any swirling and gushing underneath. Out in East London we'd love to have just one bridge across the Thames, let alone four as good as this.
Today we ask...
Have you crossed every crossing of the Thames in London?
That's every public crossing, be it a bridge, a tunnel or a ferry. I'm not including private tunnels like the passageway through the Thames Barrier, but well done to you if you've walked that. I'm also not including lengthy Thames Clipper journeys because yes, technically you can cross from Woolwich to Blackfriars by hopping on a boat, but let's leave that can of worms unopened.
Here's a tickable list so you can tot up your personal total.
1) Tunnel: DLR (between King George V and Woolwich Arsenal)
2) Tunnel: Crossrail (between Custom House and Woolwich)
3) Foot tunnel:Woolwich Foot Tunnel
4) Ferry:Woolwich Ferry
I've done all these Woolwich crossings including the one that only opened last year. The oldest is the Woolwich Ferry, then the Foot Tunnel with the DLR turning up over a century later. There are no crossings in London downstream of Woolwich - a serious eight mile chasm - although a bridge, tunnel, rail tunnel and ferry cross beyond the Greater London boundary.
5) Dangleway:London cable car
6) Tunnel: Jubilee line (between Canning Town and North Greenwich)
7) Road tunnel:Blackwall Tunnel(eastern)
8) Road tunnel:Blackwall Tunnel(western)
9) Tunnel: Jubilee line (between North Greenwich and Canary Wharf)
Farewise the Dangleway is the most expensive of all the Thames crossings. The Blackwall Tunnel is two separate bores (built 70 years apart) so that's in the list twice. The Silvertown Tunnel should be emerging here in a couple of years time.
10) Foot tunnel:Greenwich Foot Tunnel
11) Tunnel: DLR (between Island Gardens and Cutty Sark)
The ferry to the Hilton Hotel is subject to a Cross River fare of £3.80. The planned footbridge/cyclebridge alternative has been sacrificed on the bonfire of austerity. The Jubilee line crosses the Thames a total of four times and that was the third of them.
The Thames Tunnel is the oldest tunnel under a river anywhere in the world. The Rotherhithe Tunnel is technically walkable and cyclable but this is not recommended. I did walk it once but for the purpose of today's challenge driving will do fine.
16) Bridge:Tower Bridge
17) Tunnel: Northern Line (between Bank and London Bridge)
18) Bridge:London Bridge
Here are the classics, including London's oldest crossing point and the bridge a lot of tourists mistakenly think is London Bridge. I've crossed Tower Bridge at road level and at height, but you only need to have done one of those for it to count.
I hope you're still counting to see how many of these you've crossed. Even if you don't live in London you're bound to have crossed a number of these central ones.
Any ride on the Waterloo & City line ticks off number 24. Blackfriars is the only station that spans the Thames so you might have walked this bridge as well as training it.
26) Tunnel: Northern Line (between Embankment and Waterloo)
27) Footbridge:Golden Jubilee Bridge
28) Railway Bridge:Hungerford Bridge(out of Charing Cross)
29) Footbridge:Golden Jubilee Bridge
30) Tunnel: Bakerloo line (between Embankment and Waterloo)
I'm counting the Golden Jubilee Bridges as two separate bridges because they pass either side of the railway. I'm still on 30 out of 30 at this point - how are you doing?
31) Tunnel: Jubilee line (between Westminster and Waterloo)
32) Bridge:Westminster Bridge
Westminster Bridge is even touristier than Tower Bridge if that's possible. Mind the cup-shufflers and nut-peddlers.
The District line crossing, also known as Fulham Railway Bridge, includes a footbridge allowing you to walk alongside the trains. There's been a bridge at Putney longer than there's been one at Westminster.
Hammersmith Bridge has been closed to traffic for the last four years because of structural issues. Nearby alternative bridges aren't especially nearby. Barnes Railway Bridge includes a useful footbridge.
Richmond Lock Footbridge is part of Capital Ring section 7. Twickenham Bridge is essentially a Richmond bypass and was opened in 1933. It's also the only crossing I worry I've never crossed, mainly because all the local buses cross Richmond Bridge instead.
Hammerton's is a delightful dinky ferry operating between Ham and Marble Hill Park, which at £1 a crossing puts the Dangleway to shame. If you've never used it you really should (but at this time of year, wait for the weekend).
The last two crossings link London on the northern bank to Surrey on the southern bank. Hampton Ferry has been running since 1514 (except in winter so try coming back in April).
And that's the lot... 58 Thames crossings in total including 19 road bridges, 13 rail tunnels, 10 rail bridges, 5 footbridges, 4 ferries, 4 road tunnels, 2 foot tunnels and a dangleway.
I've definitely crossed 57 of them, the exception being number 50, Twickenham Bridge, an exception I can assure you I will have resolved by the end of today. Anyone else crossed them all?
160 years ago the world's first underground railway opened between Paddington and Farringdon. It still operates today, though with less steamy trains and a few minutes faster. Expect a mild volley of celebratory activity to mark the anniversary, though not as much as there was for the 150th anniversary when a steam train chuffed along the route.
I'm marking the occasion with a visit to the original seven stations and with a particular eye on seven big changes that have taken place between the 150th and 160th anniversaries. Because the Underground never stands still, it continues to make our lives that little bit better.
Paddington Since January 2013: step-free access
Ten years ago the only way onto a tube train at Paddington was via stairs or escalators. Accessibility wasn't top of the list of Victorian engineering requirements and trying to squeeze lifts into complex heritage buildings is neither cheap nor easy. The first step-free access arrived on the Hammersmith & City line platforms in December 2013 as part of the station's first major upgrade since 1933. It delivered a new entrance from Paddington Basin, a couple of new staircases and a lengthened platform to cope with new air-conditioned trains. These days it's hard to imagine the station without lifts to assist the luggage-wielding hordes, but we often have short memories as far as station improvements are concerned. It took until last year for the Bakerloo line platforms to finally gain step-free access, if only to Crossrail, with lift access to street level due in a few months time when the new Praed Street entrance opens. Just don't expect the District line platforms to gain helpful lifts (or even nicer staircases and a wider footbridge) any time soon, because finance has its limits.
Edgware Road Since January 2013: more art
This is the station where I had the most trouble finding an improvement TfL had made since 2013. The giant vinyl artwork covering an internal wall, called Wrapper, is actually a couple of months over ten years old, and although the shonky red Next Train Indicators should have been upgraded ages back they still never have been. What is technically new is the Labyrinth artwork in the ticket hall, created by Turner Prize-winning artist Mark Wallinger, which went up in the summer of 2013. Every station has one (except Nine Elms and Battersea Power Station) and Edgware Road's is number 239. Alas it's located in an off-piste part of the ticket hall so quite hard to study without lots of staff thinking you're behaving suspiciously and asking if you're OK. It does feel like TfL do less Art on the Underground than they once used to, but watch out for major installations at Gloucester Road and Aldgate East later this year.
Baker Street Since January 2013: the Night Tube
I had to descend into the depths at Baker Street to find any mention of the Night Tube because the original Metropolitan line platforms remain bereft. They still get sealed off around 1am at the weekend whereas the Jubilee line continues to operate a regular service whisking travellers to Stanmore and Stratford. The Night Tube stalled at the planning stage for many years and only limped into existence in August 2016 restricted to a limited number of lines. Baker Street is served by as many as five different tube lines but only one runs through the night, although in this respect it is at least luckier than Paddington whose four lines (plus Crossrail) all shut down. Plans originally existed to extend the service to the subsurface lines on some far-distant date, but seven years on those plans appear to have been silently dropped because TfL can't justify burning money.
Great Portland Street Since January 2013: station wi-fi
Many passengers now rely on wifi to keep themselves occupied on the tube. Some are even too young to remember a time when you had to bring your own reading material and watching a video was out of the question. When the 150th anniversary came round only 100 stations had been fitted with wifi and Great Portland Street was still a connectivity black hole. Admittedly it joined the list just three weeks later as Virgin's slow rollout progressed, but that was also the sad moment when access was suddenly no longer free unless you were on the right networks. The next big thing will be 4G in the tunnels, a pleasure not yet available on the Hammersmith & City line, although full rollout to all lines is promised by the end of 2024. Meanwhile there are still three tube stations not yet enabled with wifi, and in case this ever comes up in a pub quiz these are Heathrow Terminal 5, Kensington Olympia and Willesden Junction.
Euston Square Since January 2013: automatic signalling
In 2013 TfL's attempt to introduce new signalling to the subsurface lines - the Four Lines Modernisation programme - was already massively behind schedule and stupendously over budget. It took until March 2019 before the first short section of line out of Hammersmith was automated, meaning the trains drove themselves and the drivers got to focus more on opening the doors and making announcements. Euston Square was the boundary station between the second and third zones, SMA2 and SM3, with final switchover not implemented until March 2021. Passengers probably haven't noticed that their journeys are now timetabled to be 10% faster, nor that the signals on the platforms are redundant so have been covered over, in what's easily the most significant improvement to the 1863 Tube in recent years. Excitingly this weekend sees the delayed introduction of SMA6 - that's Stepney Green to Becontree - which means the Next Train Indicators at Bow Road might finally tell the truth next week! Bring it on.
King's Cross St Pancras Since January 2013: closure of ticket offices
Ten years ago most stations on the tube still had ticket offices but the Mayor decided they should all be closed and today we cope without. The big year of ticket office extinguishment was 2015, bringing remaining staff out into more public-facing areas and saving a shedload of money in the process. At King's Cross St Pancras their work is now done by 43 ticket machines across three locations where staff assist occasionally lengthy queues of tourists in purchasing the correct product. Additionally a garish pink Visitor Centre exists at the top of the stairs but mainly to flog tickets to tourist attractions, plus it's closed on Sundays and Mondays because this isn't genuinely about serving customers. Look around the network and you'll see that multiple ticket machines are now being removed to save even more money, and by the tube's 170th anniversary even King's Cross might be down to single figures.
Farringdon Since January 2013: Crossrail
The biggest change to the tube network over the last decade isn't even a tube line, it's the multibillion pound introduction of speedy purple trains. Crossrail was due to open five years ago but eventually opened last year, easing whatever east-west overcrowding Covid hadn't yet destroyed. Farringdon isn't the easiest place to hop aboard, especially from the tube platforms, indeed any time you might save through speed is often wasted trekking down and up from the platforms. But it is probably significant that the new line shadows the very first Underground railway by yet again linking Paddington to Farringdon, almost as if the original engineers knew exactly what they were doing. If you don't mind making the journey in twelve minutes rather than eight, why not pop down today for an 160th anniversary ride?
If you've been to Sidcup High Street over the past four years [Quick estimate: maybe 5% of readers] you can't have missed these historical banners. Dozens of them are strung up from successive lampposts, each commemorating a 'Famous Person of Sidcup', none of whom look to be terribly famous at all. Possible own goal there, I thought.
So you can imagine my excitement when I discovered the existence of a special downloadable leaflet called Famous People of Sidcup which provides a potted biography of each of the famous twelve. It's been produced by the Lamorbey & Sidcup Local History Society, a distinguished organisation which evolved out of an evening class in 1952. Best of all it includes addresses and a map so you can actually walk round the area and see where these famous people lived, as well as the more important job of discovering why they were famous in the first place.
So that's what I did, despite the fact it was more like a suburban orienteering challenge and ended up as a rambling five mile walk via occasionally non-existent buildings, and the main thing I discovered is that famous people in Sidcup sometimes lived in pebbledash houses.
Here are the twelve people we're going to meet. Score yourself two points if you've heard of any of them and one point if, later on, you go "oh yes, I guess somebody of that name probably did that".
Famous People of Sidcup
Tom Mann(1856-1941) - trade unionist and socialist
We start with a campaigner for change born in the West Midlands and most noteworthy for being General Secretary of the Amalgamated Society of Engineers between 1919 and 1921. He only spent the last six years of his life in Sidcup but continued to exhibit socialist vibes including a) addressing workers in Trafalgar Square b) sailing to Russia by boat. Annoyingly his bogstandard pebbledashed semi on Norfolk Crescent was quite a way out of town, almost in Blackfen, making a generally unnecessary start to my travels.
Doreen Bird(1928-2004) - founder of Bird College Conservatoire of Dance and Musical Theatre
Doreen is renowned in Sidcup's artistic circles, as befits a top choreographer, and has prepared many a wide-eyed protégé for a grinning life astride the West End stage. I can now say I've seen the Lamorbey semi where she first gave lessons as well as the college where her important work continues, and given the choice would much rather live in her house than Tom's.
RoseBruford(1904-1983) - founder of Rose Bruford College of Theatre and Performance
A few streets away we discover the dramatic face behind the name on the top theatre school in Lamorbey Park. Rose first hired the mansion for £5 in 1950, then eventually took it over and moulded it into a college of national renown whose acting alumni include Tom Baker, Pam St Clement, Gary Oldman and Diane-Louise Jordan. She's the second famous Sidcup resident who once lived in a pebbledashed house, which just goes to show this shouldn't hold you back.
Sidney Frank Godley(1889-1957) - awarded the Victoria Cross in World War I
Not only has Sidney's cottage in Alma Road been demolished but a retirement home named after him proved scant visual reward. Sidney earned his gallantry medal for defending the Nimy Railway Bridge single-handed for two hours under heavy German fire, an exploit celebrated not just here in Sidcup but also in East Grinstead (where he was born), Tower Hamlets (where he was a school caretaker) and Loughton (where he retired). Every council loves a VC.
Sir JohnPender(1816-1896) - pioneer of undersea cabling
John was a Scottish textile magnate who pivoted to intercontinental communication and became extremely rich in the process. He was a director of the pioneering Atlantic Telegraph Company which in 1866 successfully laid the first submarine US-UK cable, then made his fortune by controlling the price of transatlantic messages sent. His wealth allowed him to buy Foots Cray Place, the area's most magnificent mansion, and also got him into Parliament and earned him a knighthood and has now got him onto a flappy banner.
1st Baron Waring(1860-1940)- industrialist, public servant and benefactor
This Liverpool-born cabinet maker is best known as the first half of the furniture company Waring & Gillow. He might therefore be the first famous Sidcupper you've semi-heard of. Samuel was the last owner of Foots Cray Place which alas was destroyed by fire in 1950, although this did at least result in the Meadows being opened as a public park. He also gifted part of Birch Wood to the council for recreational use after it had proved popular during an early Scout jamboree, although modern Waring Park is unimpressively birchless.
Douglas Macmillan(1884-1969) - founder of Macmillan Cancer Support
You may have scored another point here. Civil servant Douglas lost his father to cancer in 1911 which encouraged him to set up a charity to support sufferers and their families. From 1924 his Macmillan work was based from a new home at 11 Knoll Road, which is easily the finest of the semis we've seen so far. It has impressively swirly woodwork in the pebbledash on the main gable, and these days a set of electric gates and a BMW in the garden. In a depressingly ironic twist Douglas died from cancer in 1969.
Dame Ethel Smyth(1858-1944) - composer and suffragette
If you've ever hummed the suffragette anthem March of the Women, that was one of Dame Ethel's compositions. A meeting with Emmeline Pankhurst in 1910 caused this feisty lady to devote two years to the cause of women’s suffrage, much to the disapproval of her family and friends. Ethel's childhood home was Sidcup House, the largest residence on the High Street, although it's long been demolished and today you'll find KFC, the Cheapsites newsagent and Frali Mediterranean restaurant on the site.
Sir Harold Gillies(1882-1960) - pioneer of modern plastic surgery
Born in New Zealand and educated at Cambridge, it was Harold's medical experiences in the WW1 trenches that led him to urge the creation of a special hospital for treating facial injuries. The Queen's Hospital opened to the south of Sidcup in 1917 and swiftly became an international centre of excellence in reconstructive surgery. You don't actually need to go to the acute district general off the bypass to appreciate Sir Harold's work, feel free to applaud him from home.
Henry Robertson ‘Birdie’ Bowers(1883-1912) - polar explorer
When Captain Scott died in a freezing tent on the hike back from the South Pole, Bowers was one of the other two men whose bodies were found beside him. He was Scottish by birth and spent most of his childhood in Streatham, though the 1891 census caught the family in this rambling house on Carlton Road and that's been good enough to get a commemorative plaque by the door. Dead famous, if long overshadowed.
Elizabeth Wiskemann(1899-1971) - journalist and historian
Elizabeth was born at number 14 Carlton Road a few years after Henry moved out of number 13 across the street. A trip to Berlin in 1930 saw her become increasingly interested in, and outspoken against, all things National Socialist. She spent the ensuing war in Switzerland handling intelligence gathered inside occupied territories, and the postwar years writing acclaimed books about European dictatorships. Her plaque's at Edinburgh University where she was the first woman chair of any academic subject.
John Mercer(1923-2015) - Normandy veteran, local teacher and historian
The last name on the list is the least famous of the bunch, included I suspect only because he was a long-term member of the Lamorbey & Sidcup Local History Society. Hurrah for his dedicated efforts to make Sidcup a better place to live, and boo for sticking him on the map... but thankfully without an address which did at least mean I didn't waste my time going to see where he lived.
So successful were these High Street banners that the society have since added another six Famous People of Sidcup. One of these is genuinely famous, the novelist Nevil Shute, although his house is long demolished under rows of flats so I can see why he never made the first tranche. If you're local and would like all the fabulous details, click here. If not then at least you now know several Famous People of Sidcup, and hopefully enough to convince you not to come looking.
