Thank you for your suggestions of possible follow-ups to my Random Borough project. Here's why I'm unconvinced that most of them would work, and why some of them might...
There are too many places to visit, so the task isn't "completable". » Random Mainline Station: There are 357 of these. Even at one a fortnight, that's going to take 15 years. » Random Street: The index of my London A-Z has more than 160 pages of street names. It's so not doable (and very dull). » Random Postcode: There are 242 of these. Some of them are tiny. Even the SE postcode has 28 subdivisions. Something postcode-y might work, but not "random postcode". » Random Park: The Royal Parks are an obvious starting point, but then there are so many more, and then so many smaller green patches after that, and where do you stop? » Random Blue Plaque: There are more than 800 of these in London. And if I picked one at random, it probably wouldn't be anybody interesting.
The list isn't suitably defined, so the task is highly subjective. » Random Bridge: Over the Thames, over other rivers, over railways, over roads, over-many! » Random Roman site: Wikipedia lists just over 100 Roman sites in England. Rather fewer are anywhere near the southeast, and not all of those are accessible. » Random Old London village/district: That's places like Bloomsbury, Spitalfields, Bow, Dagenham, Heath Row... endless! » Random Street Market:Portobello and Walthamstow, obviously. And Shepherd's Bush and Romford. But Earlham Street and Sutton Farmers? And...?
I've been to too many of them already, so it'd be nothing new. » Random County Town: Ah but I've done Winchester, Chichester, Kingston, Oakham, Oxford and Hertford already. Although I haven't done Aylesbury, Bedford, Cambridge, Chelmsford, Lewes, Ipswich or Maidstone yet, to name just the local ones, so maybe there's something to this idea. » Random Tube Line: I've already scrutinised the entire Jubilee, and most of Betjeman's Metro-land, plus all the middle of the Bakerloo. » Random London Boroughs pre 1965: Most modern boroughs are two or three of these put together, so it's unlikely I'd have much more to add. » Random Borough Reprise: Many of you think I should go back to the beginning and visit each of the 33 boroughs again. The trouble is, although some of the places have changed a lot, most won't have done. There'll be just as few interesting places to visit in Harrow as there were then. It is very tempting to go back to Merton, because I gave that short shrift eight years ago. But no, sorry, job done.
The sites are better visited sequentially, rather than randomly. » Random Street (one street per letter): Hmm, an A-Z of London streets. That could be interesting, but not in a random order. » Random Thames Bridge: Definitely of interest, but would be far better done in order.
Too expensive! » Random British City: Good, good, there are only 50 English cities, so this is doable. But if I'm picking them at random, the cost of travel (and in many cases an unexpected overnight stay) would be astronomical. » Random Arrondissement: The Parisian version of Random Borough. Wouldn't that be great? Just entirely impractical.
Not for me » Random London Society: That's so not me, it's far too sociable. Plus, I suspect, difficult to randomly schedule. » Random Pub: That's so not me either. I'd be able to tell you what the lounge bar looked like, but there'd be no critique of the atmosphere or the real ales. » Random National Cycle routes: No bike. End of. » Random Motorway Services: No car. End of.
There's only a limited amount to write about. » Random Tube Termini: This was a very popular choice. Say I stick 11 tube line names in a jar, pick one, and then go and explore the ends of the line. For the Piccadilly line, for example, that's Heathrow, Uxbridge and Cockfosters. Might work. But if I concentrate on the stations, that's a bit limited. And if I wander around outside, then you've probably heard it all before. » Random Railway Terminus: I go to Victoria or Waterloo or wherever, and I take the next suburban train out to the end of the line. Could be Tattenham Corner, could be Hayes, could be Shepperton. It's not sounding like a rich list of possibilities.
Hmm, might work, but I'm not sure people would be interested. » Random Areas Just Outside The London Boroughs: There are 17 Home Counties districts that share a border with London (Three Rivers, Hertsmere, Welwyn Hatfield, Broxbourne, Epping Forest, Brentwood, Thurrock, Dartford, Sevenoaks, Tandridge, Reigate & Banstead, Epsom & Ewell, Mole Valley, Elmbridge, Spelthorne, Slough & South Bucks). It would be a natural continuation of the Random Borough concept to visit them next. Travelling around might be difficult, without the London transport network to rely on. And you'd probably switch off very quickly, not that this usually stops me. But it's the best idea so far. So far...
Random borough (17): Woohoo, halfway at last! Time yet again for me to take another random trip to one of London's 33boroughs. As I write I have no idea which one of the 17 remaining borough names will be revealed when I unfold the slip of paper I'm about to pick from my "special jamjar". I could pick any of London's other boroughs - inner or outer, urban or suburban, small or large, fascinating or dull. I just know it won't be Merton, Islington, Enfield, Sutton, Lewisham, Southwark, Kensington & Chelsea, Hackney, Hillingdon, the City, Bromley, Lambeth, Tower Hamlets, Haringey, Hounslow or Brent because they're the sixteen (dark grey) boroughs I've picked out already.
My haphazard capital odyssey has so far taken four years, and isn't due to be completed until 2012. I may now be halfway through my quest but (unbelievably) the whole of East London is still up for grabs. There are a few stragglers in southwest London, and there's also a ring of untouched boroughs surrounding Brent, but that's all. Which of these leftovers will be my halfway house? Will I be treated to the cultural highlights of somewhere central and important, like Westminster or Camden? Or will I be dispatched somewhere rather more peripheral and off-radar, like Barnet or Bexley? Watch this space.
Once I've researched my randomly-chosen borough online then I'll head off and visit some of its most interesting places (assuming it has any). As usual I hope to visit somewhere famous, somewhere historic, somewhere pretty, somewhere retail, somewhere sporty and somewhere random. I might even take lots of photographs while I'm at it, if the borough's photogenic enough. Then after I've made my grand tour I'll come back tomorrow and tell you all about it. Let's see where I'm going this time...
Somewhere random: Leytonstone station When you think of the great film director Alfred Hitchcock you probably think of Hollywood, but you should instead be thinking Waltham Forest. Not quite so glamorous, admittedly, but the great film director had his humble origins in Leytonstone. If he'd followed in his father's footsteps he'd have been a greengrocer on the High Road, but dad's footsteps died out when Alf was only 14 and he ended up at an East End university instead. His career moved rapidly from draftsman to silent movie title designer to film director, and in 1929 he lurched into the limelight with "Blackmail", the first British talkie.
There's no sign of number 517 High Road today, just a rather ordinary petrol station, so Hitchcock stalkers should instead make tracks to Leytonstonetube station. A rather magnificent mosaic tribute was installed here in 2001, and the two sloping subways leading up from the ticket hall now resemble a subterranean art gallery. There are 17 mosaics altogether, lovingly constructed from over 80000 vitreous glass tesserae, and each depicts either a famous Hitchcock movie or a scene from Alfred's life. Some even manage to combine both, which is rather appropriate given that the old man loved to make a cameo appearance in his own films.
Blimey they're good, even if subdued lighting means most aren't displayed in optimal conditions. That's partly to your advantage, however, because you can try to guess which film each mosaic represents before squinting to read the small plaque positioned immediately above or beneath. For example, the celluloid inspiration for the first two illustrations above is obvious. That lady in the shower must be from Psycho, and the woman with peckable spaghetti hair can only be enduring The Birds. But what's that butler doing on the stairs, any idea? You can confirm your suspicion by hovering over the third picture for an answer.
If you can't make it down to Leytonstone, the wonders of the internet allow the entire gallery to be viewed online. You could go direct to the manufacturers, the City Arts & Greenwich Mural Workshop, but if you yearn for finer detail I recommend the excellent Joy of Shards. But nothing quite beats seeing the tiles in the flesh, even if to view them you have to keep stepping out of the way of every would-be passenger rushing down the subway. No murderous thoughts, please, there'll be a better view once the lady vanishes. by tube: Leytonstone
Somewhere pretty: Chingford One thing Waltham Forest does well, which I've not seen replicated in any other London borough, is to produce a high quality series of detailed leaflets documenting its architectural treasures. And not just the grander listed buildings, but also residential streets in heritage clusters. If you live in one of the borough's conservation areas (Leucha Road, Ropers Field, Walthamstow Village, etc) there's probably a leaflet documenting its geographic extent, ornamental features and all necessary planning regulations. There are also four Millennium Heritage Trails, each printed on luxury folded cardboard, for borough residents to get their hands on. I picked up a full set at the Vestry House Museum (grab now, before council cutbacks bite), and followed Trail 1 to the heights of Chingford. It's not all Norman Tebbitt, you know.
There are at least 23 buildings of architectural note in Chingford, apparently, including a 400-year-old dovecote and a late Victorian terracotta-clad pub. The oldest is Queen Elizabeth'sHunting Lodge on the forest edge, which I've visited before (and which is also Londonist's "Museum ofthe Month"). Nextdoor is the Butler'sRetreat, a listed barn used to serve refreshments to Forest-bound visitors, although alas currently closed for refurbishment. Of the remaining buildings of note, most are clustered around Chingford Green - a thin triangle of grass surrounded by one of the borough's larger conservation areas. A wide range of architectural styles are on show, from faux Tudor to faux Gothic, although my favourite was the genuine weatherboarded tweeness of Carbis Cottage. Before the railways came Chingford was but a small hamlet of similarly rural homesteads. It's very different now.
The leafleted trail doesn't shy away from more suburban highlights. There are some particularly grand homes along The Drive, for example, and a few equally over-turreted mansions facing the golf course along Forest View. The north end of Chingford is where Waltham Forest's better off residents come to live, not quite gated luxury but still a million miles away from conditions in the tightly packed streets of Leyton far to the south. For a topping treat, however, trudge up to the highest point of the estate where you'll find a short footpath leading to the summit of Pole Hill. Not only is there a great view through the trees towards the City, but there's also an obelisk or two marking an unlikely geographical coincidence. The Greenwich Meridian passes directly through the top of the hill, so as you stand beside the trig point you are precisely due north of the Royal Observatory. Further details are included in my special Meridian postings from five years ago (including Waltham Forest's series of carefully aligned pavementtributes). Pole Hill's a lovely spot - even Lawrence of Arabia thought so - and all the better if (like me) you get the entire mound completely to yourself. by train: Chingford
Somewhere historic: Wanstead Park One of the grandest houses ever seen in Britain was built in Wanstead in the early 18th century. Wanstead House was a pioneer of Palladian style, with mighty Corinthian pillars and a 200ft-long frontage. The gardens were landscaped with tree-lined avenues and ornamental waterways, creating a spectacular Versailles-like estate. A mixture of Blenheim Palace and Hampton Court, if you like, and much favoured by the nobles and gentry of the Georgian era. So why have you never heard of Wanstead House, let alone visited? Because it's been completely demolished, that's why, leaving only the surrounding parkland as evidence of magnificence lost. And the tale of its disappearance is worthy of a modern day soap opera.
Wanstead once had a Tudor manor, snapped up in 1667 by the extremely rich Governor of the East India Company, Sir Josiah Child. He was succeeded by his son Richard who knocked down the old house and built an ostentatious replacement, in a successful attempt to improve his social standing. Anyone who was anyone came to Wanstead to admire, to socialise and to marvel. So far so good. In 1750 the house passed to Richard's grandson John - a dapper individual with a love of fine art. John never married (they didn't allow civil partnerships in those days) so the estate was eventually inherited by an unsuspecting nephew. And when his son died at the tragically early age of 10, Wanstead Park ended up in the possession of teenage heiress Catherine. Poor Catherine. She was courted by many men, but in the end discarded the portly Duke of Clarence in favour of raffish young William Pole-Wellesley. As mistakes go, this was a monumental biggie. The Duke went on to become King, and William turned out to be a womanising gambler with venereal disease and an irresponsible lifestyle. 10 years later, in 1822, William's creditors forced the sale of Wanstead House and all of its contents in an attempt to pay back a quarter of a million pounds of debt. But the house, alas, failed to attract any bids whatsoever and so was demolished and sold off piecemeal, brick by brick. Catherine died soon afterwards, tragically young, while her miserable husband lived into old age to wreck several more lives. Roll credits.
Wander around the vast acreage of WansteadPark today, through the bluebell woods or across gorse-blown heathland, and only a few clues remain to its splendid past. That series of umpteen artificial ornamental lakes for a start, they don't look very municipal. And that crumbling stone grotto by the water's edge, it could only have been built on the orders of an 18th century aristocrat with a sense of the theatrical. And that low pillared building on a grassy mound at the end of a long chestnut avenue, it looks far more like a classical temple than a tea hut.
Yes, it's a 'temple', and I was delighted to discover this folly open to the public (behind the scaffolding) when I arrived on Saturday. The park is now maintained and run by the City of London, and two of their finest volunteers were in duty to show me (and a handful of other visitors) around inside. The place is run as a small museum which tells the story of Wanstead Park, and there's no shortage of interesting exhibits. Old maps, information panels, rescued statues, and even the sales catalogue from the 1822 auction. There's also a cabinet full of Roman remains, dug up on site centuries ago when the tree-lined avenues were being laid. Oh yes, there must have been a Roman villa somewhere in the grounds once, but its precise location has long been lost. The extremely enthusiastic guide told me everything I needed to know about the house's history, and more, and I know she'd be glad to welcome you too. Really, this fascinating park ought to be seen and enjoyed by far more than an audience of local dog walkers. by tube: Wanstead
Ten years ago this very weekend I found myself a jamjar, dropped the names of London's 33 boroughs inside and picked one at random. As moments of creative lunacy go, it ranks highly. Out of that jar came the borough of Merton, and off I went that very day to explore six of its more interesting sights. I didn't write too much on that occasion, but things swiftly snowballed and before long I was writing three days of posts per borough. Visiting each in turn proved unexpectedly interesting, whether heading for somewhere central or discovering yet another obscure peripheral gem. It gave me an unparalleled overview of the capital, from the backwaters of Bromley to the backside of Barnet. And with each visit roughly three months apart, it took all of eight years to reach my final trip to Barking and Dagenham. A mammoth undertaking, which I pledged I'd never do again.
So, ten years on, it's time to do something similar. We had much discussion at the end of the project as to what I might do next, and the best idea we came up with was "Random Areas Just Outside The London Boroughs". There are 17 Home Counties districts that share a border with London, 17 adjacent local authority areas. So I'm going to visit them all, one at a time, and report back on what life is like just beyond the border.
Clockwise from the Thames: Dartford, Sevenoaks, Tandridge, Reigate & Banstead, Epsom & Ewell, Mole Valley, Elmbridge, Spelthorne, Slough, South Bucks, Three Rivers, Hertsmere, Welwyn Hatfield, Broxbourne, Epping Forest, Brentwood, Thurrock
They're a very motley group of boroughs. Some are small and urban, others sprawling and rural. Some barely touch the capital at all while others share a considerable border. Some stray no more than a couple of miles from London, others stretch considerably further away. Some I've blogged about already, occasionally in depth, whereas others are merely names on a map. Whatever, I'm sure I can find places worth visiting and telling you about - if I could manage it with Sutton, I can do it with this lot.
Four of the 17 districts are in Hertfordshire, three from Essex, two from Kent, as many as six from Surrey, plus one each from Berkshire and Bucks. Towns I won't be visiting include Watford, Amersham and Windsor, because the perverse geography of civic boundaries means that none of their administrative districts quite touch London. But I should be heading as far out as Sevenoaks, Ongar, Reigate and even Welwyn Garden City, plus several villages it's barely possible to commute from. I like a challenge.
I shall be employing the usual shopping list of themes, that's somewhere famous, somewhere historic, somewhere pretty, somewhere retail, somewhere sporty and somewhere random. But I'm not going to force myself to visit somewhere from all six categories - four will do, whichever four are most appropriate. That's partly a transport-related decision. Once across the London border the public transport network thins out a bit, with buses less ubiquitous and trains fewer and further between. Not that out of town is impenetrable, of course, but I can't guarantee to be able to get around so fast in one day flat.
For similar reasons, sorry, this project's not going to be guided by chance. I can't pick a district at random first thing in the morning, research it and then visit everywhere, all before the sun goes down. Thurrock I could probably manage, but Mole Valley goes all the way down to the Sussex border, and that's just not on without adequate preparation. So I'm going to work sequentially around the edge of London in a clockwise direction, ensuring I know which district is coming next, allowing me to plan each visit in advance.
My apologies, therefore, for the lack of jamjar during this particular series. But I will add a frisson of initial excitement by not revealing which of the 17 I'll be starting to explore today. It's probably obvious, and also a little disappointing, but it is the only place to begin. Today I'll be out touring at least four of this particular district's more interesting locations. So come back tomorrow for the first instalment of Beyond London - a continuing series in seventeen parts. Should keep me busy for a few years, I hope.
You're probably not 100% certain where Redbridge is, are you? It's not got a terribly memorable name, and this isn't helped by it being named after a red brick bridge which was knocked down in 1921. The anonymous borough of Redbridge lurks on the edge of northeast London, consisting of Ilford, the M11 corridor and vast swathes of mid 20th century suburban estates. This is affordable London, home to thousands of very ordinary families, and not in any way on the tourist trail. I was quite worried that there wouldn't be enough out here to report back on, but in the end I was very pleasantly surprised.
Somewhere to begin: Redbridge Museum
Yes, even Redbridge has its own museum. It's spread over a couple of floors in Ilford Library, just off the main shopping street so that most blinkered consumers would never find it. The building is cursed by automatic doors that swish open rather prematurely, as if to draw your attention to the goodies beyond. And what do you know, there's plenty of Redbridge history for the museum to boast about. The main gallery contains a variety of themed exhibits, from the usual archaeological finds to the more recent industrial and social history of the area. Burial and supermarkets are unexpectedly popular themes. In the 1860s the complete skull of a woollymammoth was uncovered beneath what is now Boots the Chemist, buried here when Ilford was just temperate grassland. And the famous Ilford photographic company started up in the town in the 1870s, but the business moved on 100 years later and a superstore has since been built on the original factory site. The museum clearly has an eye on the primary school trip audience, but everything's extremely well presented. Meanwhile in the first floor gallery they've just kicked off a special exhibition devoted to Suffragette and campaigning feminist Sylvia Pankhurst who used to live in Woodford (and also in Bow, so I was especially interested). Well done Redbridge, more people deserve to hear of you. by train: Ilford by bus: 25 (and many more)
Somewhere pretty: The Hainault Loop See that big orange loop at the eastern end of the Central line? That's Redbridge, that is. Apart from the three really quiet stations at the top which are in Essex, so I didn't have an excuse to alight at Roding Valley, Chigwell or Grange Hill. But I visited all the others, and a few of them are very special indeed. This end of the Central line opened in the late 1940s, delayed somewhat by munitions factories being operated in the tunnels during WWII. Many of the stations were converted from LNER operation, and still retain a period charm not entirely wrecked by Metronet. White wooden canopies, well-worn solid benches and decorative ironwork - all a million miles away from the modern brutality of certain central London stations. Fairlop [photo] is like a rural halt in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Barkingside [photo] has a footbridge from which you can watch half the action at the non-league club nextdoor. Redbridge [photo] is more of a subterranean cavern with central tiled pillars, reminiscent of something Eastern European. But the finest examples of postwar architecture lie inbetween.
There's very little sign of Gants Hill station above the surface, just a large roundabout in the middle of the A12 with five brightly tiled subways leading down into the depths. Pass down into the ticket hall and descend the escalators, and then wow! The central lobby ahead has a mighty arched ceiling, with passageways to either side between tiled pillars leading to the two platforms [photo]. Everything is cream and shiny, even the floor, and the tiles are topped off with light orange trim. And down the centre of this cathedral-like space are three sets of paired uplighters, tall and thin like massive brown goblets. They rise up from a series of marble islands, each with a chunky wooden bench at its heart. Is this an insignificant London suburb or is this an important station on the Moscow underground? The platforms may not be sensational [photo], but they still have a sense of architectural haughtiness. Maybe it's the special London Transport clock, with roundels for digits and another roundel for a hand. Waiting for a train here is no hardship.
At Newbury Park the impressive feature is outside the station, not down on the unremarkable platforms. Exit from the ticket hall along a long brick corridor and you emerge into a bus station like no other. This interchange building, with its long barrel-vaulted roof topped with copper, makes a mighty modernist statement [photo]. It's as if someone's sliced a hollow cylinder in half to create a giant concrete insect with a green back and slender curving legs. Inside, beneath the airy canopy, equally-spaced wall-mounted lamps are shielded by thin metal fins [photo]. And down on the ground just one single bus stop serving a mere three single-decker routes, with infrequent service, in one direction only. A most ambitious project, but whose potential was never fully realised in its locality before the building money ran out. At least Oliver Hill's design won a special architectural award during the Festival of Britain, even if the plaque now has a crack across it. It's well worth getting a ticket to Zone 4 just to take a look. by tube: Gants Hill, Newbury Park by bus: 66, 296, 396
Waltham Forest forms a vertical slice of northeast London between the River Lea and Epping Forest. In the south are the Victorian terraces of Leyton, in the centre the varied estates of Walthamstow, and in the north the leafy suburbs of Chingford. All residential aspirations duly provided for. I spent yesterday tracking round some of the borough's more interesting locations, which proved easier than I expected because there's actually quite a bit to see. Where better to start than in the middle, in medieval Wilcumestowe ("The Place of Welcome")?
Somewhere historic: William Morris Gallery Some men are great artists, some great thinkers, some great writers. William Morris managed to be all three, and several other character types besides. He's best known for his designwork, especially his elegant nature-based wallpapers, and his wide-ranging creativity was key to kicking off the Arts and Crafts movement in the late 19th century. He lived and worked in many outerLondon boroughs, but spent his childhood in the rural surroundings of pre-suburban Walthamstow. The family home was at Water House, a substantial Georgian building in the grounds of Lloyd Park, and now open to the public as a museum devoted to Morris's many talents.
The wood-panelled ground floor galleries run through the story of William's life as well as displaying some of his finest works. A spell working as an architect's apprentice diverted his career into interior design, and various floral and faunal wallpapers are amongst his earliest triumphs. A bit oppressive for modern tastes, perhaps, but a Morris-covered wall was usually more worthy of detailed study than any work of art hung on it. Tapestries and rugs also displayed his creative diversity, rich in colour and detail, and the Woodpecker tapestry illuminated on the far wall is a particularly fine example. Also on show are Arts-y Crafts-y works by many of Morris's protégés, including wicker furniture, a selection of ornate glazed tiles and some magnificent stained glass. Walking round the museum is like being in a Victorian version of Habitat, showcasing must-have designs for the budding domestic aesthete.
In later life, troubled by social inequality, William shifted his focus towards political activism and printing. His illustrated books are works of art in themselves, like modern monkish manuscripts, and several can be seen in the Gallery. But its his legacy of beautifully crafted homewares that continue to delight. If you're tempted to further your collection, a small shop in the hallway sells a small range of highbrow tat, including some rather lovely wrapping paper which your aunt would no doubt appreciate.
The local borough were once very proud of their famous son. Indeed Waltham Forest's motto - Fellowship Is Life - is a line lifted from Comrade Morris's politically motivated novel A Dream of John Ball. More modern times, however, have brought persistentthreats to cut visiting hours or even sell off many of the house's contents to raise funds. I'd been delaying my trip to the Gallery until Waltham Forest emerged from my random jamjar, so it's been a nervous five-year wait in case the council shut the place down in the meantime. Thankfully not, and for the time being the museum remains open seven hours a day five days a week, admission free. A much better day out than a trip to IKEA, and far more likely to inspire. by tube: Blackhorse Road by bus: 123
Somewhere retail: Walthamstow Market It's the longest daily street market in Europe. It's over a mile in length. It stretches almost the entire length of Walthamstow High Street. It's so long that there's a station at either end of it. It's an avenue of stalls lined by fairly downmarket shops from top to bottom. It's still the dominant retail presence in Walthamstow, despite the rather bricky modern mall shoehorned in beside it. It takes a lot longer than you'd expect to walk down, or back up, especially if you attempt to push your way through on a Saturday lunchtime. It's Walthamstow Market. And it really is very long indeed.
OK, the market's a little bit shorter than usual at the moment. There are some roadworks in front of the Cock Tavern so only a runty dribble of stalls ply their trade beyond the ploughed-up hiatus at the western end. But elsewhere there are vibrant stalls aplenty, and a stream of human traffic wandering by to peruse what's on offer. You want fruit in a bowl, there's a fruit-in-a-bowl seller every hundred yards or so. Goodness knows how the market supports quite so many identikit plastic greengrocery types, but I fear they may be the future at the expense of your more traditional "pahndabananaz" types. Some of Walthamstow's rag traders still yell out a never-ending volley of "best dresses in the market, only a fivahhh!", but these days most of the racket comes from youngsters hanging out nearby holding court with their mates.
The market's shoppers are a diverse bunch but most are women, bag (or trolley) in hand, picking through the stalls for a cut price bargain. Cheap shoes, a roll of cloth, some non-feather pillows - why pay more? Pensioners pick over the basics to help them through the week, while young parents snap up plastic toys for a quid - anything that might keep their toddler quiet without breaking the bank. Few, if any, of Walthamstow's patrons will be troubled by a 50% tax band. There are plenty of choices for lunch too, with the longest queues for sizzling spiced meats and Tubby Isaac's cockles. Also very popular is the chicken barbecue behind the (much-photographed) bus station, where unnaturally orange fowl roast on two rows of rotating spits. For three quid they'll slice half a bird into manageable strips and pile the dripping flesh into an over-sized polystyrene box. I'm afraid I chickened out and plumped for a hot dog with onions instead. by tube: Walthamstow Central by train: St James Street
Somewhere else retail: Walthamstow Village Don't get the wrong idea about Walthamstow - some of it is gorgeous. The conservation area on the hill round the church stands in sharp contrast to the surrounding area, so more Waitrose-y types flock to live in the oldvillagenucleus with its almshouses, hexagonal Victorian postboxes and half-timbered buildings. The shopping's very different too. A short stretch of Orford Road supports as many as three delicatessens in close proximity (three more than Walthamstow Market), along with middle class restaurants (tapas tonight darling?), an independent wine merchant and a designer boutique entitled Beautiful Interiors. It's only half a mile away, but I suspect that few market shoppers ever make it this far up the hill. I joined the queue in the wittily-named Eat 17 deli, waiting behind folk buying free-range sausage rolls and a week's supply of guacamole, to round off my Walthamstow lunch with a scrummy chocolate croissant. All tastes catered for.
Somewhere famous: Winston Churchill I really struggled to find somewhere famous in Redbridge. Somewhere celebrated, notable and world-renowned. Erm, no, I couldn't think of one either. So in the end I gave up on a location and settled on a person instead. And Britons don't come much more famous than Sir Winston Churchill. He never lived here, but he did represent the constituency of Woodford(and Wanstead) for nearly 35 years. It wasn't his first choice of constituency either. Winston started out in Oldham (elected 1900), then moved rapidly on to Manchester (elected 1906) and Dundee (elected 1908). In 1924, after three successive defeats elsewhere, he ended up as the "Independent Constitutionalist anti-Socialist" MP for Epping. And it was from this constituency base that he became Chancellor, and Prime Minister, and indeed Much Loved Saviour Of The Island Race. In the post-war election of 1945 the constituency was split in two, so Churchill plumped for Woodford and stayed on almost until his death. During this period the lucky Premier was bestowed with the Freedom of Wanstead and Woodford - a rare honour indeed - and often popped into the Eagle at Snaresbrook for a pint with the locals. Probably not as often as they'd have liked, though. In 1959 a grateful constituency paid £5000 to erect a larger than life bronze statue on Woodford Green. It was unveiled by Field Marshall Viscount Montgomery, and initially required a 24 hour police guard as a precaution against practical jokers. And Churchill's still there, up by the bus stop on the High Road, at the tip of the village green. A splendid avenue of mighty trees stretches up Salway Hill behind him as, with bronze hand resting on bronze coattails, he surveys the constituency that still reveres his name. by tube: Woodford by bus: 20, 179, 275, W13
Somewhere retail: Barkingside High Street On the edge of London, with rolling Green Belt beyond, is a wonderfully ordinary British High Street. No Starbucks has yet infiltrated, and no out-of-town mall has sucked the independent retailers dry. It's BarkingsideHigh Street - half a mile of proper shopping from Geezer's barbershop in the north down to Chequers Fruit and Veg in the south. And, perhaps of greatest interest, "many of the buildings along the high street are owned by entrepreneur Alan Sugar". So it says on Wikipedia anyway, although with a niggling "citation needed" added as a pedantic superscript, so it may not actually be true. I took a Saturday stroll amongst the Redbridge shoppers to see if I could determine which classy independent retail outlets might be Suralan's. Danny's Pie and Mash, surely, offering all day breakfasts and Great British Dinners at knockdown prices. Styles Ahead, obviously, a beauty parlour from which near-Essex ladies emerge shampooed, re-clawed and browned off. Rossi Bros ice cream parlour, possibly, its frozen produce utterly enticing for those not adhering to restrictive diets. The Mayfair stationers, perchance, given that most of Sir Alan's property portfolio lurks in W1, not IG6. Yosi's Gourmet Bagels, maybe, its chocolate coloured doors long since locked and shuttered down. Panache ladies outfitters, potentially, now under new management and selling blouses for a tenner or less. The Chubby Panda Chinese restaurant, perhaps, offering 10% discount on takeaways but now closed on Mondays. The Barnardo's charity shop, conceivably, because this charity's UK HQ is based in the heritage village at the bottom of the road. Or my very favourite, The Cheesecake Shop, from which guilty feeders emerged grinning onto the pavement stuffed with torte, gateau, mudcake, pavlova or meringue. This is how shopping ought to be. I await with anticipation the first episode of The Apprentice to be filmed here. by tube: Barkingside by bus: 150, 167, 169, 247, 275, 462
Somewhere sporty: Cricklefield Athletic Ground Now you might think I'm scraping the barrel with a visit to the home ground of IlfordFC, currently scraping the bottom of Ryman League Division One. But ah no, I know a major sporting venue when I see one, and this athletics stadium east of Ilford is just that. It may look little more than a six-lane track behind the pay and display at Ilford Swimming Pool, with a couple of goalposts and an empty grandstand, hemmed in by houses and a cemetery. But ah no, this unassuming backwater is in fact an international Olympic arena. Or at least it was, briefly, at the last London Games in 1948. The England team played a couple of first round matches here in deepest Ilford, the first a glorious two-one victory over Luxembourg and the second a pitiful two-nil loss against France. Not a great year for English football medals, 1948. And best not to mention the only other international football match to take place here at Cricklefield - a friendly against West Germany in 1957 which we lost drei-zwei. Last Saturday's league fixture against Wingate & Finchley was a rather more mundane affair. I arrived in time for the early preparations, with the commemorative iron gates unlocked to admit the eager and the tracksuited. The team gathered slowly on the terraces, noisily warming up for the afternoon's travails. In the spartan clubhouse kitchen six packets of white baps were piled up on a plastic table, awaiting transformation into £3.20 egg and bacon burgers. And what do you know, the league's bottom club managed a home win that afternoon, easing themselves almost (but not quite) out of the relegation zone. Never let anyone tell you that Olympic sporting facilities won't be well used by the local community during the legacy phase. by train: Seven Kings by bus: 86
There are lots of ways to measure this, including how many boroughs have I been to (all of them), how many bus routes have I ridden (all of them), how many stations have I visited (almost all of them) and how many places have I been to (pretty much the lot, depending on the list). But for a proper measure I need something a bit more comprehensive and a lot less subjective, so I've gone for squares.
The Ordnance Survey cover the country with a grid of squares - at the highest level 100km×100km which wouldn't be terribly useful for assessing intra-London coverage. Far better to use 1km×1km grid squares because they're properly granular, so all the better for distinguishing between 'nearly been to Chislehurst' and 'genuinely been to Yeading'.
My first job was to count how many 1km×1km grid squares there are.
I decided not to worry about the squares on the boundary. Some of these are almost entirely in London but others are tiny slivers with zero public access, so rather than get obsessed with fractions far better to discount the lot. I therefore ignored this black rim and focused on the undivided remainder in the middle. By my calculations there are 1463 1km×1km grid squares entirely within Greater London, a massive total, and how brilliant would it be to have visited the lot?
I had a fair amount of spare time during lockdown so I made myself a spreadsheet and then I coloured it in.
It soon became apparent that there are several kinds of 'visit'. The gold standard was to have visited on foot, to have stepped at least once inside the perimeter of the square. Other squares I'd only ever driven through in a vehicle, generally a bus, car or coach, so technically I'd seen them if not properly been. One rung down the ladder were squares I'd only ever been through by train, and if none of the above applied I had a genuine virgin square. I used yellow if I'd walked it, green if I'd been driven, blue if I'd only been by train and red for entirely unvisited.
Here's what northeast London looked like at the start of the year. Home is the purple square and the bottom left hand square is Streatham.
Unsurprisingly, for someone who's walked all over London, it turned out I'd visited the vast majority of squares. Anywhere close to home I'd walked to by default. Central London was pretty much a given. Long distance paths like the Capital Ring, London Loop, Thames Path and Green Chain ticked off a surprisingly high amount. But I'd also stepped out of outlying Overground stations, ridden to the end of minor bus routes, yomped around on random borough excursions and followed a lot of unlost rivers which covered a lot more squares. Plus I'd deliberately been to hundreds of obscure places for blogging purposes, like tracking down level crossings in Havering or following the David Beckham Trail through Waltham Forest, and suddenly these ridiculous safaris paid dividends.
For me it turned out the vast majority of London was yellow - I'd been to about 93% of all the squares on foot. But there were still little random unvisited islands all over, because gridlines have no respect for local geography, so in some cases I'd very nearly been but not quite. Also some parts of London really are in the back of beyond, having no main roads, no bus routes and no railways, maybe only a few suburban streets or a couple of country lanes. If you're sitting there thinking "I bet I've been to more than 90% of the grid squares in London" I bet you haven't, because I only just reached that total by being a London obsessive over two decades.
The grid square I bet fewest Londoners have been to is TQ4790, which is the square I've marked with a thick black border. It's on the Redbridge/Havering boundary near Marks Gate and is totally agricultural. It contains no roads, no railway, nor even a single building of any kind, and can only be accessed via a minor unattractive public footpath. I've blogged about it solely because it's so atypical, and you would have to be similarly dogged (or very local) to have been there too. Umpteen other grid squares are way off the beaten track and therefore woefully unfrequented (for example TQ0689, TQ4661, TQ5279, TQ5483 and TQ6085) but only TQ4790 is entirely undriveable.
Over the last few months I've been out to visit some of these green, red and blue squares in an attempt to turn them yellow. That ride on the 399 bus got me to TQ3797. A knitted postbox cover in Stanmore got me TQ1790. A borough triple point won me TQ4891. My visit to the hamlets of Hockenden and Kevington was mainly to turn two outlying squares yellow. Even tangential references to Ardleigh Green, Clayhall Avenue, Holders Hill, Ruislip Gardens, Sundridge and Woodcote Green weren't entirely coincidental. My blogging horizons have been properly boosted by visiting the unvisited.
This is how my coloured map looks now.
• It's now 95% yellow - that's 1386 of the 1463 grid squares.
• There are still 54 greens - that's squares I've ridden through but never stepped on.
• Only six squares are blue (i.e. train only, specifically on the Metropolitan line, beyond Orpington and south of Purley).
• And 17 squares remain red, that's 18 square kilometres I've somehow never ever been to.
🟨=1386, 🟩=54, 🟦=6, 🟥=17
I will continue to visit the green and blue squares to turn them yellow, so if you see a post about Tyler's Common, Mogden Sewage Works or Monks Orchard, that's what that's about. But mostly I have my eye on the 17 reds because these are unarguably unvisited.
Most of the reds are in Croydon or Bromley, unsurprisingly a long way from where I live. A few are on the peripheral northern edge of Hillingdon, Harrow and Barnet. I intend to report back on these rural outposts and suburban backwaters over the next few months. But I'll make a start with the two red squares nearest home - adjacent but mutually inaccessible - which I look forward to telling you about tomorrow.
It might take me a while to turn all 17 squares yellow, but how brilliant it'll be to have visited the whole of London.
Somewhere historic: Addington Palace There's not much that's proper old in the Croydon area. Creeping suburbia wiped out most of the ancient hamlets, and manors, and kings and queens of old generally gave the place a wide berth. But the market town has one long-standing connection, to the Archbishops of Canterbury, who had their summer residence in Croydon Palace from the 12th century onwards. Some of this building still stands, now part of an independent girls school, and guided tours are available on a handful of days throughout the year. But not in January, so I didn't go there. Instead I followed in the archbishops' 200-year-old footsteps, fleeing Croydon town centre for a place in the hills.
Addington Palace, formerly Addington Manor, is a Palladian mansion a few miles southeast of Croydon. It was bought by the government in 1808, paid for by the sale of the old palace, and as many as six consecutive Archbishops of Canterbury spent their summers here. No, I hadn't heard of any of them either. When the seventh moved back to Canterbury instead, the palace was sold on to a diamond merchant, then to the Red Cross who used it as an isolation hospital. In 1953 the lease was taken over by the Royal School of Church Music, an august body charged with maintaining ecclesiastical choral tradition. And it was they who once invited me to visit the palace, back when I was a cherubic youngster with soaring vocal cords. I don't remember much of the occasion, alas, apart from a few vague wood-panelled flashbacks.
I didn't feel quite so welcome on this visit. Addington Palace has moved down the spiritual ladder and is now a wedding, conference and banqueting venue. For a small fortune (plus deposit) you can hire the chapel for a bit of knot-tying, then dispatch your guests to the permanent marquee dumped in the back garden. Smart guests were arriving when I turned up, so I kept my distance behind the hired limos and tried extra carefully not to tread on the grass. The surrounding greenspace is owned by the Addington Palace Golf Club, a rather exclusive bunch ("shirts must have collars and sleeves") serving a very exclusive neighbourhood, and I didn't think they'd appreciate former choristers stepping out onto their fairway for a better photo opportunity.
Down the hill is Addington Village and tiny St Mary's Church. This is the borough's oldest building, complete with part-Saxon chancel, a medieval belfry and an unusual pyramid-capped tower. It's also, unexpectedly, the burial place of five of the six Archbishops who lived up at the Palace. You'd expect their bones to be stashed in Canterbury, or at least Lambeth, but instead their ties as Lord of Addington Manor drew them to rest here instead. The church offers occasional tours in the summer, but again not in mid-January, so instead I made do with a stroll around the compact churchyard trying to spot mitred memorials.
That's old Addington. NewAddington is a completely different matter, and a completely different world. This huge local authority housing estate, originally planned as a 'garden village', now sprawls unchecked across 1000 acres of former farmland. Sadly New Addington never achieved its aim as an aspirational community, not by a long chalk, and lack of facilities and isolation from the outside world led to the place being nicknamed Little Siberia. Today more than 20000 people live on its downmarket slopes, and few are the sort who play golf. The main shopping parade is awash with charity shops, bakeries and bookies, and the only supermarket options are the Co-Op or Iceland. This is a land of mobility scooters, sneering dogs and hoodied youth, and a million miles from the wealthy suburbs across the valley.
But one thing's rescued New Addington from abject misery, and that was the arrival of CroydonTramlink in 2000. Line 3 terminates at the top of town, with regular services down the hill towards central Croydon and civilisation. It's an enjoyable journey - through switchback woodland and through a couple of old railway tunnels - and much quicker than the old crawl by bus used to be. Another great example of improving social cohesion through investment in public transport infrastructure, and one of Croydon's most useful resources. You may never use it, because it's hard to think of a good reason for coming out this far, but the residents of New Addington can only be grateful that Tramlink reached them pre-Boris. by tram: Gravel Hill by bus: 130, 466
Somewhere pretty: Addington Hills Croydon boasts some stunningly pretty countryside, at least by normal London standards. The rolling hills and verdant valleys of the North DownsGreen Belt are rather gorgeous, and the perfect "somewhere pretty" for me to visit. Except I've already been, a couple of summers back, for a walk along section 5 of the London Loop. I strongly recommend this undulating hike around the southern rim of the capital, especially the views from Farthing Downs, but probably not in January. So I left that old favourite alone and explored a different council-recommended viewpoint instead. Just south of Shirley.
The easiest way to get to Addington Hills is by tram. Alight at Coombe Lane, which looks like a forgotten halt in the middle of rural England, and then take the path into the undergrowth. No really, don't be afraid, this muddy track is another stretch of the London Loop, and the woodland doesn't stay dense for long. You emerge beside what must be London's most remote Chinese restaurant, and then the path turns left away from the car park towards an elevated stone podium. Oh my word, look at that. The land drops away beneath you, across the capital's largest expanse of heathery heathland, and there's a great (and unusual) view across most of London. To the left that's the metropolis of Croydon, its skyscraper office blocks clearly evident. A bit further round, surely that white arch can't be Wembley 17 miles away, but yes it is. There are the two south London TV masts and, across to the right, a prominent cluster of pointy topped buildings that can only be Canary Wharf. Hang on, back a bit, rather fainter than expected, there's the Gherkin and the towers of the City. A series of metal plaques around the edge of the platform confirm what you're seeing - even on a clear day, apparently, Amersham. Splendid stuff. Just be careful which route you take back to the tram stop, because some of the couples lurking in the car park looked like they might have a completely different view on offer. by tram: Coombe Lane by bus: 130, 466
Three years ago I set myself the slightly ridiculous challenge of visiting all the local government boroughs that touch the edge of Greater London. I'd done it before with London boroughs - the so-called Jamjar Years - but now I was heading outside the capital to see what delights existed out there.
A total of 17 Home Counties boroughs rub up against London, and I've spent a Saturday in each, attempting to visit at least four disparate locations, then coming home and writing about it. The writing about it shouldn't be disregarded, because that invariably took longer than the visit, making this a mighty task that's soaked up seventeen weekends and then some.
I started by the River Thames and worked my way round clockwise, ticking off another borough every two or three months. Unlike my jamjar journeys this wasn't random, mainly because "getting around" isn't as easy as it is in London, so a little more forward planning was involved.
Following yesterday's write-up of Thurrock my circuit is now complete. I've been to Kent, a lot of Surrey, Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire and Essex, plus a couple of unitary authorities that aren't necessarily in any of those. For posterity's sake here's a full list, with a link to the relevant posts.
I've been to suburbs half a mile over the London border and towns ten miles distant, plus villages it's barely possible to commute from. I've been to stately homes and shopping centres, fortresses and vineyards, landscaped gardens and film studios, museums and markets, various muddy footpaths, a model village and a Roman bath. All of this fascinating stuff is out there, not far from London, if only we ever think to pop outside occasionally and take a look.
As with my eight year random safari around the London boroughs, the best part has been travelling around each borough to put a face to the name. It's not until you force yourself to walk from Shepperton to Staines, or you take the bus from Hatfield to Welwyn Garden City, or you alight from the train at somewhere called Lingfield, that you properly understand how an area truly fits together.
The variety has been amazing too, from densely-populated urban boroughs like Slough and Thurrock to rural idylls like Sevenoaks and Tandridge. It's not hard to contemplate a future extension of the capital's boundaries that would swallow up some of these districts, although a number of beyond-London boroughs peter out quite quickly once the commuter belt gives way to the Green Belt, suggesting a new dividing line wouldn't be easy to draw.
A number of people have asked if I intend to extend this Beyond London feature further, to which my answer is currently no. It would be tempting to add Watford, which doesn't quite touch London, ditto Windsor and Maidenhead, then Chiltern, and maybe Basildon, but where do you stop? One of you even suggested visiting all the remaining boroughs that touch a borough that touches London, a kind of second ring, so I've done some sketchy calculations and there are 24 of them.
But that would mean covering an area from the countryside round Saffron Walden to the coast near Eastbourne, so I think not. Don't sigh, you're not the one who'd have to write it all up.
Another reason for stopping here is that I've now explored 33 London boroughs and another 17 around the edge, which is 50 altogether, and 50's a nice round total. Don't worry, I have other irons in the fire, so I'm not at a loose end and can easily think up other stuff to do at weekends. But I do feel enriched to have visited 50 districts, and over 300 individual locations, across a wider area than most people choose to travel.
Sometimes you think you know somewhere quite well, but then you visit it and find out you didn't, but now you do.
In recent years, TfL have made sterling efforts to encourage visitors to London onto the tube, the river, hire bikes and (especially) the cablecar. But only rarely have they gone out of their way to suggest that tourists take the bus, leaving the market clear for the high-priced open top sightseeing brigade. So you may be interested to hear of a new initiative on the TfL website, under the Experience London umbrella, introducing a series of 'bus leisure routes' for tourists.
These aren't special extra buses, there'd be no money for that. Instead these are five existing routes, rebranded 'bus leisure routes', each backed up by a downloadable pdf telling tourists how to ride. Take your pick.
Bus leisure route 9, for example, starts at Somerset House and heads to Holland Park, ticking off three palaces and six museums along the way. Bus leisure route 17 whisks you from King's Cross to London Bridge via four historic hostelries. Bus leisure route 22 covers Fulham Palace to Piccadilly, featuring the King's Road and Royal Academy. Bus leisure route 139 skips from Waterloo to Abbey Road via Hamleys, Selfridges and Lord's Cricket Ground. But I picked at random, which is why I'm now going to tell you of my experiences on bus leisure route 35, from Brixton Market to Columbia Road.
Bus leisure route 35: London's Markets
Brixton Market Bus stop T: Brixton Station
We're off to a cracking start. Brixton Market is just the kind of non-central gem a visitor to London could easily miss. The online blurb confirms that the local speciality is African and Caribbean produce, and contains a hint that change is afoot, noting that Granville Arcade has recently rebranded as ‘Brixton Village’. Faultless so far.
Borough Market Bus stop G: Union Street
Bus stop M: London Bridge
Next stop Borough Market. But what the linear map completely fails to mention is quite how far this is from Brixton on a number 35 bus. The 133 does the journey more directly, and gets there faster. Most Londoners would surely take the tube instead. But this is bus leisure route 35, so we're taking the 35, even if that means crawling via Camberwell for 40 minutes. If you're a temporary visitor to London, I'm unconvinced that sitting pointlessly on a busy double decker is the optimal use of your time. I can't say I enjoyed the experience. Bus leisure route 35 does pass two well known markets along the way, namely East Street Market in Walworth (birthplace of Charlie Chaplin) and the Elephant & Castle shopping centre (while stocks last), but I guess they're not sufficiently iconic to get a mention. And even when you do finally reach Borough Market, it turns out that one of the suggested bus stops (Union Street) is a bit of a hike, whereas the other (London Bridge) is almost outside. After an unproductive four mile journey, thank goodness the food offering is tip top.
Leadenhall Market Bus stop M: Fenchurch Street
Bus Stops L/N: Threadneedle Street
Here's a very different kind of market, more a collection of upmarket shops, but under a fabulously decorated roof, and of course it's been in Harry Potter. Leadenhall Market is easily reached by bus leisure route 35, three stops across the Thames, and the onboard display even announces the correct stop as 'Fenchurch Street for Leadenhall Market'. There's just one catch at present, which is that long-term roadworks are forcing a diversion via Bank so the 35 no longer stops outside. Will Old Broad Street do? It's not clear, but expect a walk.
Lloyd's of London Bus stop M: Fenchurch Street
Bus Stops L/N: Threadneedle Street
After a four mile hiatus earlier in the route, markets three and four turn out to be in the same place. The trail map's good, because it suggests you should walk from one to the other rather than take the bus, estimated walking time 2 minutes. But the linear map's misleading, because it shows the two attractions at different stops, rather than the same one. Also, see how creatively our trail curators are interpreting 'market' here, Lloyd's being a building with a distinctly financial flavour. It is an amazing architectural confection, but there's not really very much to do here apart from briefly look at it.
Spitalfields Market Bus Stop L: Liverpool Street Station
Bus stop H Primrose Street
Again the map offers two bus stops to get off at, but the second one is closer. The first stop is actually announced as 'Liverpool Street Station for Petticoat Lane Market', but alas Petticoat Lane's Sunday revels haven't been deemed worthy of inclusion. Thankfully Spitalfields is another excellent London market, or at least one an international visitor would consider as such, with its focus on designer goods rather than cheap kitchen scourers. Bus leisure route 35 has again hit the spot.
Brick Lane Bus stop H: Primrose Street
But here the trail loses it somewhat. Brick Lane is only five minutes walk from the far side of Spitalfields Market, as the text on the map carefully points out. But bus leisure route 35 goes nowhere near Brick Lane - the 67 and 205 go closer, and the 8 would be a better bet. This is the point on the trail where wishful thinking disconnects with reality, because bus routes don't magically link specific categories of tourist attraction. It's all got a bit contrived... and then it gets contriveder.
Columbia Road Flower Market Bus Stop X: Shoreditch Town Hall
Shoreditch Town Hall is the stop where the bus terminates, so you have to alight here and walk for 10 minutes to reach Columbia Road. The alternative is to carry on walking from Brick Lane, which is 15 minutes, depending on which end of Brick Lane you start. Visitors would have been better off catching the 26 or 48 from Liverpool Street, but the map isn't allowed to tell you that because it has to maintain the bus leisure route 35 mystique. What the text does correctly warn is that Columbia Road Flower Market only operates on Sundays, as does Brick Lane Market... except Sunday's the only day Borough Market isn't open, so it turns out there isn't a day of the week you can tick off the whole list in one go.
I did not enjoy my journey on bus leisure route 35. One outlier in Brixton and everything else on the eastern border of the City does not make for a happy ride. If I'd taken you on bus leisure route 22 instead, I'd have been moaning about how the last seven places all occur after the point marked "Get off the bus here and walk to the remaining locations". If I'd taken you on bus leisure route 9, I'd have been more positive, but less happy that the bus stopped at the wrong end of Exhibition Road for all the museums. If I'd taken you on bus leisure route 17, I'd have been raving about the pubs, but pointing out that the listed "Heritage" felt a bit random. And if I'd taken you on bus leisure route 139, I'd have groaned at how lowest common denominator touristy it all was, but actually I suspect that means it's the most successful of the lot.
It's great to see buses getting a bit of promotional love from TfL for a change. But the contrived nature of these bus leisure route journeys leads me to suspect that they could end up wasting tourists' time as much as opening their eyes to some proper treats. I'm also disappointed that the quintet doesn't include TfL's most obvious slamdunk tourist bus, the heritage Routemaster service which shuttles between Trafalgar Square and Tower Hill, passing St Paul's Cathedral along the way. Bus leisure route 15 should be getting far more attention from TfL than it currently affords, and I eagerly await its appearance in this peculiar portfolio.
Random borough (17): Woohoo, halfway at last! Time yet again for me to take another random trip to one of London's 33 boroughs. As I write I have no idea which one of the 17 remaining borough names will be revealed when I unfold the slip of paper I'm about to pick from my "special jamjar". I could pick any of London's other boroughs - inner or outer, urban or suburban, small or large, fascinating or dull. I just know it won't be Merton, Islington, Enfield, Sutton, Lewisham, Southwark, Kensington & Chelsea, Hackney, Hillingdon, the City, Bromley, Lambeth, Tower Hamlets, Haringey, Hounslow or Brent because they're the sixteen (dark grey) boroughs I've picked out already.
When you think of the great film director Alfred Hitchcock you probably think of Hollywood, but you should instead be thinking Waltham Forest. Not quite so glamorous, admittedly, but the great film director had his humble origins in Leytonstone. If he'd followed in his father's footsteps he'd have been a greengrocer on the High Road, but dad's footsteps died out when Alf was only 14 and he ended up at an East End university instead. His career moved rapidly from draftsman to silent movie title designer to film director, and in 1929 he lurched into the limelight with "Blackmail", the first British talkie.
There are at least 23 buildings of architectural note in Chingford, apparently, including a 400-year-old dovecote and a late Victorian terracotta-clad pub. The oldest is Queen Elizabeth's Hunting Lodge on the forest edge, which I've visited before (and which is also Londonist's "Museum of the Month"). Nextdoor is the Butler's Retreat, a listed barn used to serve refreshments to Forest-bound visitors, although alas currently closed for refurbishment. Of the remaining buildings of note, most are clustered around Chingford Green - a thin triangle of grass surrounded by one of the borough's larger conservation areas. A wide range of architectural styles are on show, from faux Tudor to faux Gothic, although my favourite was the genuine weatherboarded tweeness of Carbis Cottage. Before the railways came Chingford was but a small hamlet of similarly rural homesteads. It's very different now.
The leafleted trail doesn't shy away from more suburban highlights. There are some particularly grand homes along The Drive, for example, and a few equally over-turreted mansions facing the golf course along Forest View. The north end of Chingford is where Waltham Forest's better off residents come to live, not quite gated luxury but still a million miles away from conditions in the tightly packed streets of Leyton far to the south. For a topping treat, however, trudge up to the highest point of the estate where you'll find a short footpath leading to the summit of Pole Hill. Not only is there a great view through the trees towards the City, but there's also an obelisk or two marking an unlikely geographical coincidence. The Greenwich Meridian passes directly through the top of the hill, so as you stand beside the trig point you are precisely due north of the Royal Observatory. Further details are included in my special Meridian postings from five years ago (including Waltham Forest's series of carefully aligned pavement tributes). Pole Hill's a lovely spot - even Lawrence of Arabia thought so - and all the better if (like me) you get the entire mound completely to yourself.
One of the grandest houses ever seen in Britain was built in Wanstead in the early 18th century. Wanstead House was a pioneer of Palladian style, with mighty Corinthian pillars and a 200ft-long frontage. The gardens were landscaped with tree-lined avenues and ornamental waterways, creating a spectacular Versailles-like estate. A mixture of Blenheim Palace and Hampton Court, if you like, and much favoured by the nobles and gentry of the Georgian era. So why have you never heard of Wanstead House, let alone visited? Because it's been completely demolished, that's why, leaving only the surrounding parkland as evidence of magnificence lost. And the tale of its disappearance is worthy of a modern day soap opera.
You're probably not 100% certain where Redbridge is, are you? It's not got a terribly memorable name, and this isn't helped by it being named after a red brick bridge which was knocked down in 1921. The anonymous borough of Redbridge lurks on the edge of northeast London, consisting of Ilford, the M11 corridor and vast swathes of mid 20th century suburban estates. This is affordable London, home to thousands of very ordinary families, and not in any way on the tourist trail. I was quite worried that there wouldn't be enough out here to report back on, but in the end I was very pleasantly surprised.
See that big orange loop at the eastern end of the Central line? That's Redbridge, that is. Apart from the three really quiet stations at the top which are in Essex, so I didn't have an excuse to alight at Roding Valley, Chigwell or Grange Hill. But I visited all the others, and a few of them are very special indeed. This end of the Central line opened in the late 1940s, delayed somewhat by munitions factories being operated in the tunnels during WWII. Many of the stations were converted from LNER operation, and still retain a period charm not entirely wrecked by Metronet. White wooden canopies, well-worn solid benches and decorative ironwork - all a million miles away from the modern brutality of certain central London stations. Fairlop [photo] is like a rural halt in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Barkingside [photo] has a footbridge from which you can watch half the action at the non-league club nextdoor. Redbridge [photo] is more of a subterranean cavern with central tiled pillars, reminiscent of something Eastern European. But the finest examples of postwar architecture lie inbetween.
At Newbury Park the impressive feature is outside the station, not down on the unremarkable platforms. Exit from the ticket hall along a long brick corridor and you emerge into a bus station like no other. This interchange building, with its long barrel-vaulted roof topped with copper, makes a mighty modernist statement [photo]. It's as if someone's sliced a hollow cylinder in half to create a giant concrete insect with a green back and slender curving legs. Inside, beneath the airy canopy, equally-spaced wall-mounted lamps are shielded by thin metal fins [photo]. And down on the ground just one single bus stop serving a mere three single-decker routes, with infrequent service, in one direction only. A most ambitious project, but whose potential was never fully realised in its locality before the building money ran out. At least Oliver Hill's design won a special architectural award during the Festival of Britain, even if the plaque now has a crack across it. It's well worth getting a ticket to Zone 4 just to take a look.
Some men are great artists, some great thinkers, some great writers. William Morris managed to be all three, and several other character types besides. He's best known for his design work, especially his elegant nature-based wallpapers, and his wide-ranging creativity was key to kicking off the Arts and Crafts movement in the late 19th century. He lived and worked in many outer London boroughs, but spent his childhood in the rural surroundings of pre-suburban Walthamstow. The family home was at Water House, a substantial Georgian building in the grounds of Lloyd Park, and now open to the public as a museum devoted to Morris's many talents.
In later life, troubled by social inequality, William shifted his focus towards political activism and printing. His illustrated books are works of art in themselves, like modern monkish manuscripts, and several can be seen in the Gallery. But its his legacy of beautifully crafted homewares that continue to delight. If you're tempted to further your collection, a small shop in the hallway sells a small range of highbrow tat, including some rather lovely wrapping paper which your aunt would no doubt appreciate.
It's the longest daily street market in Europe. It's over a mile in length. It stretches almost the entire length of Walthamstow High Street. It's so long that there's a station at either end of it. It's an avenue of stalls lined by fairly downmarket shops from top to bottom. It's still the dominant retail presence in Walthamstow, despite the rather bricky modern mall shoehorned in beside it. It takes a lot longer than you'd expect to walk down, or back up, especially if you attempt to push your way through on a Saturday lunchtime. It's Walthamstow Market. And it really is very long indeed.
Don't get the wrong idea about Walthamstow - some of it is gorgeous. The conservation area on the hill round the church stands in sharp contrast to the surrounding area, so more Waitrose-y types flock to live in the old village nucleus with its almshouses, hexagonal Victorian postboxes and half-timbered buildings. The shopping's very different too. A short stretch of Orford Road supports as many as three delicatessens in close proximity (three more than Walthamstow Market), along with middle class restaurants (tapas tonight darling?), an independent wine merchant and a designer boutique entitled Beautiful Interiors. It's only half a mile away, but I suspect that few market shoppers ever make it this far up the hill. I joined the queue in the wittily-named Eat 17 deli, waiting behind folk buying free-range sausage rolls and a week's supply of guacamole, to round off my Walthamstow lunch with a scrummy chocolate croissant. All tastes catered for.
I really struggled to find somewhere famous in Redbridge. Somewhere celebrated, notable and world-renowned. Erm, no, I couldn't think of one either. So in the end I gave up on a location and settled on a person instead. And Britons don't come much more famous than Sir Winston Churchill. He never lived here, but he did represent the constituency of Woodford (and Wanstead) for nearly 35 years. It wasn't his first choice of constituency either. Winston started out in Oldham (elected 1900), then moved rapidly on to Manchester (elected 1906) and Dundee (elected 1908). In 1924, after three successive defeats elsewhere, he ended up as the "Independent Constitutionalist anti-Socialist" MP for Epping. And it was from this constituency base that he became Chancellor, and Prime Minister, and indeed Much Loved Saviour Of The Island Race. In the post-war election of 1945 the constituency was split in two, so Churchill plumped for Woodford and stayed on almost until his death. During this period the lucky Premier was bestowed with the Freedom of Wanstead and Woodford - a rare honour indeed - and often popped into the Eagle at Snaresbrook for a pint with the locals. Probably not as often as they'd have liked, though. In 1959 a grateful constituency paid £5000 to erect a larger than life bronze statue on Woodford Green. It was unveiled by Field Marshall Viscount Montgomery, and initially required a 24 hour police guard as a precaution against practical jokers. And Churchill's still there, up by the bus stop on the High Road, at the tip of the village green. A splendid avenue of mighty trees stretches up Salway Hill behind him as, with bronze hand resting on bronze coattails, he surveys the constituency that still reveres his name.
On the edge of London, with rolling Green Belt beyond, is a wonderfully ordinary British High Street. No Starbucks has yet infiltrated, and no out-of-town mall has sucked the independent retailers dry. It's Barkingside High Street - half a mile of proper shopping from Geezer's barbershop in the north down to Chequers Fruit and Veg in the south. And, perhaps of greatest interest, "many of the buildings along the high street are owned by entrepreneur Alan Sugar". So it says on Wikipedia anyway, although with a niggling "citation needed" added as a pedantic superscript, so it may not actually be true. I took a Saturday stroll amongst the Redbridge shoppers to see if I could determine which classy independent retail outlets might be Suralan's. Danny's Pie and Mash, surely, offering all day breakfasts and Great British Dinners at knockdown prices. Styles Ahead, obviously, a beauty parlour from which near-Essex ladies emerge shampooed, re-clawed and browned off. Rossi Bros ice cream parlour, possibly, its frozen produce utterly enticing for those not adhering to restrictive diets. The Mayfair stationers, perchance, given that most of Sir Alan's property portfolio lurks in W1, not IG6. Yosi's Gourmet Bagels, maybe, its chocolate coloured doors long since locked and shuttered down. Panache ladies outfitters, potentially, now under new management and selling blouses for a tenner or less. The Chubby Panda Chinese restaurant, perhaps, offering 10% discount on takeaways but now closed on Mondays. The Barnardo's charity shop, conceivably, because this charity's UK HQ is based in the heritage village at the bottom of the road. Or my very favourite, The Cheesecake Shop, from which guilty feeders emerged grinning onto the pavement stuffed with torte, gateau, mudcake, pavlova or meringue. This is how shopping ought to be. I await with anticipation the first episode of The Apprentice to be filmed here.
Now you might think I'm scraping the barrel with a visit to the home ground of Ilford FC, currently scraping the bottom of Ryman League Division One. But ah no, I know a major sporting venue when I see one, and this athletics stadium east of Ilford is just that. It may look little more than a six-lane track behind the pay and display at Ilford Swimming Pool, with a couple of goalposts and an empty grandstand, hemmed in by houses and a cemetery. But ah no, this unassuming backwater is in fact an international Olympic arena. Or at least it was, briefly, at the last London Games in 1948. The England team played a couple of first round matches here in deepest Ilford, the first a glorious two-one victory over Luxembourg and the second a pitiful two-nil loss against France. Not a great year for English football medals, 1948. And best not to mention the only other international football match to take place here at Cricklefield - a friendly against West Germany in 1957 which we lost drei-zwei. Last Saturday's league fixture against Wingate & Finchley was a rather more mundane affair. I arrived in time for the early preparations, with the commemorative iron gates unlocked to admit the eager and the tracksuited. The team gathered slowly on the terraces, noisily warming up for the afternoon's travails. In the spartan clubhouse kitchen six packets of white baps were piled up on a plastic table, awaiting transformation into £3.20 egg and bacon burgers. And what do you know, the league's bottom club managed a home win that afternoon, easing themselves almost (but not quite) out of the relegation zone. Never let anyone tell you that Olympic sporting facilities won't be well used by the local community during the legacy phase.
Addington Palace, formerly Addington Manor, is a Palladian mansion a few miles southeast of Croydon. It was bought by the government in 1808, paid for by the sale of the old palace, and as many as six consecutive Archbishops of Canterbury spent their summers here. No, I hadn't heard of any of them either. When the seventh moved back to Canterbury instead, the palace was sold on to a diamond merchant, then to the Red Cross who used it as an isolation hospital. In 1953 the lease was taken over by the Royal School of Church Music, an august body charged with maintaining ecclesiastical choral tradition. And it was they who once invited me to visit the palace, back when I was a cherubic youngster with soaring vocal cords. I don't remember much of the occasion, alas, apart from a few vague wood-panelled flashbacks.
Down the hill is Addington Village and tiny St Mary's Church. This is the borough's oldest building, complete with part-Saxon chancel, a medieval belfry and an unusual pyramid-capped tower. It's also, unexpectedly, the burial place of five of the six Archbishops who lived up at the Palace. You'd expect their bones to be stashed in Canterbury, or at least Lambeth, but instead their ties as Lord of Addington Manor drew them to rest here instead. The church offers occasional tours in the summer, but again not in mid-January, so instead I made do with a stroll around the compact churchyard trying to spot mitred memorials.
That's old Addington. New Addington is a completely different matter, and a completely different world. This huge local authority housing estate, originally planned as a 'garden village', now sprawls unchecked across 1000 acres of former farmland. Sadly New Addington never achieved its aim as an aspirational community, not by a long chalk, and lack of facilities and isolation from the outside world led to the place being nicknamed Little Siberia. Today more than 20000 people live on its downmarket slopes, and few are the sort who play golf. The main shopping parade is awash with charity shops, bakeries and bookies, and the only supermarket options are the Co-Op or Iceland. This is a land of mobility scooters, sneering dogs and hoodied youth, and a million miles from the wealthy suburbs across the valley.
Croydon boasts some stunningly pretty countryside, at least by normal London standards. The rolling hills and verdant valleys of the North Downs Green Belt are rather gorgeous, and the perfect "somewhere pretty" for me to visit. Except I've already been, a couple of summers back, for a walk along section 5 of the London Loop. I strongly recommend this undulating hike around the southern rim of the capital, especially the views from Farthing Downs, but probably not in January. So I left that old favourite alone and explored a different council-recommended viewpoint instead. Just south of Shirley.
