Somewhere fictional: Railway Cuttings, East Cheam 23 Railway Cuttings, East Cheam, was the fictional home of comic legend Tony Aloysius Hancock. Hancock'sHalfHour remains the classic TV sitcom of the 1950s, detailing the everyday life of a Cheam resident with ideas above his station. The show was written by Ray Galton and Alan Simpson (who also wrote Steptoe and Son) and they brought us such classic episodes as The Blood Donor and The Radio Ham. As time went by Tony Hancock became more and more insecure with his fame, first sacking fellow actor Sid James and then taking to reading his script off autocue rather than memorising his lines. An ill-advised move to ITV followed and alcoholic Hancock was eventually depressed enough to take his own life.
But neither East Cheam nor Railway Cuttings actually exist. There's a North Cheam, but Galton and Simpson invented the fictional eastern suburb as the sort of posh place in which Tony Hancock might have aspired to live. As you can see in the photo above there are indeed railway cuttings in the area (these are on the Thameslink line) but there's no actual road bearing their name. I spent a half hour scouring the area's suburban streets looking for a suitable substitute. Beside the cuttings I found GroveAvenue, a short tree-lined road with pretensions of grandeur. One man was out washing his car but the remaining residents lurked inside behind twitching net curtains. Signs on brick pillars at each end of the street warned that this was a private road (residents parking only) and just walking down the street felt oppressive and uncomfortable. But the faded 1930s mock Tudor semi at number 23 (see photo) looked to be just the sort of place in which Hancock might have lived, and maybe his modern equivalent is still doing so. by train: Cheam
Somewhere sporty: Sutton United When grown men want to sneak away from their wives at weekends they don't go after loose women, they join football teams. The fitter blokes might end up in the squad but the rest just yell from the touchline every other Saturday or, even better, get a job in club management. SuttonUnited feels like the sort of team that such men might aspire to join, currently languishing mid-table in the NationwideConference South. Their ground at GanderGreenLane boasts a post-war grandstand and the legendary Rose's Tea Hut, but all that was evident on the pitch when I peered through a gap in the fence on Saturday was a large crowd of noisy seagulls. The team were preparing to play away so a huge white coach was standing ready to transport the squad, a few supporters and associated suit-wearing hangers-on to the afternoon's match at Redbridge. The coach was later involved in a minor road accident, delaying kickoff by 15 minutes, but nobody was hurt. I'm pleased to say that Sutton thrashed the opposition fivenil, the latest in a string of five consecutive recent victories, and I hope that all (cough) 158 supporters present enjoyed the match. by train: West Sutton, by bus: 413
Somewhere retail: Sutton I was somewhat surprised to discover that Sutton is a retail magnet, located as close as it is to both Croydon and Wimbledon, but the High Street boasts a huge range of shops that those of us living in East London can only dream of. Every chain store worth its salt has a presence and shoppers come from miles around every weekend to throng the pedestriansed streets and modern malls. I was impressed. On Saturday afternoon shoppers outside the St Nicholas Shopping Centre were being serenaded by a Chinese gentleman playing some sort of wailing one-stringed electric instrument. He was playing a tune that was almost identical to Rod Stewart's Sailing but wasn't quite, presumably for copyright reasons. You can see him in the photo being hassled by six mocking youngsters (they had loud whistles, the little scamps), but unfortunately I failed to capture the moment a few minutes later when another shopper stopped by and actually bought one of his CDs for a tenner. Further up the road a middle-aged man in a rainbow-coloured wig was folding balloon animals for stupefied toddlers, some brave lad had dressed up as Superman to hand out soon-discarded leaflets, and two dear ladies shaking tins for the RNLI were losing out big time to the tsunami bucketeers standing a little further down the street. Just another Sutton Saturday. by train: Sutton
So anonymous is the London borough of Sutton that I had to think really really hard to remember exactly where it was (below Wimbledon and west of Croydon, as it turned out). And that's where I ended up yesterday, scouring the borough to try to find some places of interest to report back on. And it was hard work because there really isn't very much in Sutton apart from people's houses, but I tried and I managed to find some places that were almost interesting. Part one today, part two tomorrow.
Somewhere famous: Croydon Airport It may not be famous now, but between 1920 and 1939 CroydonAirport was London's glamorous gateway to the world. Two WW1 aerodromes were combined to form London's first international airport, with scheduled flights to Paris, Rotterdam and Amsterdam. Imperial Airways was formed here in 1924 and the world's first terminal building was opened in 1928 (that's the one in the photo). Charles Lindbergh and AmyJohnson both flew from Croydon, and when Amy returned here having made the first flight to Australia by a woman she received a rapturous welcome. After WW2 the title of London's main airport passed to Heathrow because it was more able to cope with larger jetliners, and Croydon Airport was slowly run down before closing completely in 1959.
The western part of Croydon Airport was redeveloped in the 1960s as the Roundshaw housing estate. It's a million miles away from international glamour, more a poor collection of concrete blocks and Wimpey Homes gathered round a Co-op supermarket. You wouldn't live here. All the cul-de-sacs are named after famous aviators or aeroplanes, and the local primary school commemorates local hero Amy Johnson. To the east the terminal building still stands, refurbished as office units with a restored De Havilland Heron perched outside overlooking the main A23 road. The central part of the old airfield remains undeveloped, home to six football pitches, a nature reserve and a model aircraft flying zone. There were only kites flying in yesterday's high winds, but it was good to see the area's aeronautical tradition being maintained. by bus: 119, 154
Somewhere historic: Whitehall Not the real Whitehall, you understand, but a very old house in Cheam dating back to the 16th century. Some farmers lived in it. It's now a local museum. Sorry, but that's about as historic as Sutton gets. But the park at the bottom of the road just over the border into Surrey has a much more impressive history. It was here in 1538, on the site of a razed village, that Henry VIII ordered the construction of NonsuchPalace. This was to be a magnificent Renaissance showpiece, and eventually was, but unfortunately the exterior walls were so ornate that Henry died before they were completed. Charles II later gave Nonsuch as a gift to one of his mistresses, Barbara Villers, but she was eventually forced to demolish the palace to pay off huge gambling debts. There's nothing more than parkland on the site now, which is a shame, and the place merits no more than a small exhibition in the old farmer's house. by train: Cheam, by bus: 151, 213
Somewhere pretty: Carshalton Ponds You can always tell when somewhere suburban is pretty because it's full of people exercising their dogs and looking the other way when they foul the grass. In which case various parts of Carshalton must be very pretty indeed. There's an unexpectedly big lake (with ducks) near the town centre, at the western end of which is the Honeywoodheritage centre (pictured). To the north, past some more ducks, is an old watertower (open summer Sundays). And to the east lies Beddington Park, a very pleasant rolling green expanse and the source of the River Wandle. A faded sign at the entrance warns that 'Dogs are being stolen from this park', but the place was full of exercising canines when I visited so the owners didn't seem to be too worried. All pretty then, but not sufficiently so to go out of your way for a visit. by train: Carshalton, by bus: 407
Tomorrow: a sitcom classic, a struggling football team and a bloke playing with his organ in public
Random borough: It's time I took another random trip to one of London's 33 boroughs. I've visited three already so there are still 30 folded slips of paper in my special jamjar (at least until I select the next one). I could pick any of the remaining boroughs - inner or outer, north or south, urban or suburban, fascinating or dull. I just know it won't be Merton, Islington or Enfield because they're the three boroughs I've picked out already. Once I've researched my randomly-chosen borough online I'll head off and visit some of its most interesting places, assuming it has any. I hope to visit somewhere famous, somewhere historic, somewhere pretty, somewhere retail, somewhere sporty and somewhere random. And then I'll come back tomorrow and tell you all about it. Let's see where I'm going this time...
23 Railway Cuttings, East Cheam, was the fictional home of comic legend Tony Aloysius Hancock. Hancock's Half Hour remains the classic TV sitcom of the 1950s, detailing the everyday life of a Cheam resident with ideas above his station. The show was written by Ray Galton and Alan Simpson (who also wrote Steptoe and Son) and they brought us such classic episodes as The Blood Donor and The Radio Ham. As time went by Tony Hancock became more and more insecure with his fame, first sacking fellow actor Sid James and then taking to reading his script off autocue rather than memorising his lines. An ill-advised move to ITV followed and alcoholic Hancock was eventually depressed enough to take his own life.
But neither East Cheam nor Railway Cuttings actually exist. There's a North Cheam, but Galton and Simpson invented the fictional eastern suburb as the sort of posh place in which Tony Hancock might have aspired to live. As you can see in the photo above there are indeed railway cuttings in the area (these are on the Thameslink line) but there's no actual road bearing their name. I spent a half hour scouring the area's suburban streets looking for a suitable substitute. Beside the cuttings I found Grove Avenue, a short tree-lined road with pretensions of grandeur. One man was out washing his car but the remaining residents lurked inside behind twitching net curtains. Signs on brick pillars at each end of the street warned that this was a private road (residents parking only) and just walking down the street felt oppressive and uncomfortable. But the faded 1930s mock Tudor semi at number 23 (see photo) looked to be just the sort of place in which Hancock might have lived, and maybe his modern equivalent is still doing so.
When grown men want to sneak away from their wives at weekends they don't go after loose women, they join football teams. The fitter blokes might end up in the squad but the rest just yell from the touchline every other Saturday or, even better, get a job in club management. Sutton United feels like the sort of team that such men might aspire to join, currently languishing mid-table in the Nationwide Conference South. Their ground at Gander Green Lane boasts a post-war grandstand and the legendary Rose's Tea Hut, but all that was evident on the pitch when I peered through a gap in the fence on Saturday was a large crowd of noisy seagulls. The team were preparing to play away so a huge white coach was standing ready to transport the squad, a few supporters and associated suit-wearing hangers-on to the afternoon's match at Redbridge. The coach was later involved in a minor road accident, delaying kickoff by 15 minutes, but nobody was hurt. I'm pleased to say that Sutton thrashed the opposition five nil, the latest in a string of five consecutive recent victories, and I hope that all (cough) 158 supporters present enjoyed the match.
I was somewhat surprised to discover that Sutton is a retail magnet, located as close as it is to both Croydon and Wimbledon, but the High Street boasts a huge range of shops that those of us living in East London can only dream of. Every chain store worth its salt has a presence and shoppers come from miles around every weekend to throng the pedestriansed streets and modern malls. I was impressed. On Saturday afternoon shoppers outside the St Nicholas Shopping Centre were being serenaded by a Chinese gentleman playing some sort of wailing one-stringed electric instrument. He was playing a tune that was almost identical to Rod Stewart's Sailing but wasn't quite, presumably for copyright reasons. You can see him in the photo being hassled by six mocking youngsters (they had loud whistles, the little scamps), but unfortunately I failed to capture the moment a few minutes later when another shopper stopped by and actually bought one of his CDs for a tenner. Further up the road a middle-aged man in a rainbow-coloured wig was folding balloon animals for stupefied toddlers, some brave lad had dressed up as Superman to hand out soon-discarded leaflets, and two dear ladies shaking tins for the RNLI were losing out big time to the tsunami bucketeers standing a little further down the street. Just another Sutton Saturday.
It may not be famous now, but between 1920 and 1939 Croydon Airport was London's glamorous gateway to the world. Two WW1 aerodromes were combined to form London's first international airport, with scheduled flights to Paris, Rotterdam and Amsterdam. Imperial Airways was formed here in 1924 and the world's first terminal building was opened in 1928 (that's the one in the photo). Charles Lindbergh and Amy Johnson both flew from Croydon, and when Amy returned here having made the first flight to Australia by a woman she received a rapturous welcome. After WW2 the title of London's main airport passed to Heathrow because it was more able to cope with larger jetliners, and Croydon Airport was slowly run down before closing completely in 1959.
The western part of Croydon Airport was redeveloped in the 1960s as the Roundshaw housing estate. It's a million miles away from international glamour, more a poor collection of concrete blocks and Wimpey Homes gathered round a Co-op supermarket. You wouldn't live here. All the cul-de-sacs are named after famous aviators or aeroplanes, and the local primary school commemorates local hero Amy Johnson. To the east the terminal building still stands, refurbished as office units with a restored De Havilland Heron perched outside overlooking the main A23 road. The central part of the old airfield remains undeveloped, home to six football pitches, a nature reserve and a model aircraft flying zone. There were only kites flying in yesterday's high winds, but it was good to see the area's aeronautical tradition being maintained.
Not the real Whitehall, you understand, but a very old house in Cheam dating back to the 16th century. Some farmers lived in it. It's now a local museum. Sorry, but that's about as historic as Sutton gets. But the park at the bottom of the road just over the border into Surrey has a much more impressive history. It was here in 1538, on the site of a razed village, that Henry VIII ordered the construction of Nonsuch Palace. This was to be a magnificent Renaissance showpiece, and eventually was, but unfortunately the exterior walls were so ornate that Henry died before they were completed. Charles II later gave Nonsuch as a gift to one of his mistresses, Barbara Villers, but she was eventually forced to demolish the palace to pay off huge gambling debts. There's nothing more than parkland on the site now, which is a shame, and the place merits no more than a small exhibition in the old farmer's house.
You can always tell when somewhere suburban is pretty because it's full of people exercising their dogs and looking the other way when they foul the grass. In which case various parts of Carshalton must be very pretty indeed. There's an unexpectedly big lake (with ducks) near the town centre, at the western end of which is the Honeywood heritage centre (pictured). To the north, past some more ducks, is an old water tower (open summer Sundays). And to the east lies Beddington Park, a very pleasant rolling green expanse and the source of the River Wandle. A faded sign at the entrance warns that 'Dogs are being stolen from this park', but the place was full of exercising canines when I visited so the owners didn't seem to be too worried. All pretty then, but not sufficiently so to go out of your way for a visit.
Random borough: It's time I took another random trip to one of London's 33 boroughs. I've visited three already so there are still 30 folded slips of paper in my special jamjar (at least until I select the next one). I could pick any of the remaining boroughs - inner or outer, north or south, urban or suburban, fascinating or dull. I just know it won't be Merton, Islington or Enfield because they're the three boroughs I've picked out already. Once I've researched my randomly-chosen borough online I'll head off and visit some of its most interesting places, assuming it has any. I hope to visit somewhere famous, somewhere historic, somewhere pretty, somewhere retail, somewhere sporty and somewhere random. And then I'll come back tomorrow and tell you all about it. Let's see where I'm going this time...
