Somewhere random: A walk along the Thames For a glimpse of lower Hammersmithand Fulham I thought I'd walk along the entire southern border of the borough, marked by the north bank of the Thames. That's all the way from just past Chelsea to almost Chiswick, via the two neighbourhoods the borough is named after. It's less than three miles direct, but the meandering river (and a few obstructive landowners) meant I had to walk more than five. It's not the most exciting stretch of the Thames, to be honest, but it has its moments. [six photos]
The eastern boundary of Hammersmith and Fulham is the lost river of Counter's Creek. The last few hundred yards are still visible as a tidal inlet, running between the old Lots Road power station and the luxury apartments of Chelsea Village [photo]. The Village is a concentrated enclave of wealthy souls packed into wharfside stacks, only a few of whom are fortunate enough to have a river view. The new Imperial Wharf development nextdoor isn't quite so exclusive, and the artificially turfed garden by the river is open to all in case an October heatwave should break out [photo]. But prospective homeowners should watch out for the racket caused by helicopters landing at Battersea across the water. And lovers of fine architecture should probably choose to live somewhere else. I scanned the entire waterfront here attempting to spot a building more than 30 years old and, bar a couple of church spires across the river, I failed. This is the Thames as real estate, devoid of soul.
The riverside continues uneventfully as far as Sainsbury's, then heads inland to avoid one remaining patch of wharfy warehouseness. Past Wandsworth Bridge and a tucked in Curry's, then a detour round a goods yard, and see what I mean about this not being the most exciting stretch of the Thames? Inland there are lovely terraced streets, but the river's edge was industrial land until relatively recently so never had the golden Edwardian touch. And then high society intrudes. The Hurlingham Club own a massive 42 acres beside the river, carefully walled off to prevent the hoi polloi from entering. Inside there's polo, croquet and tennis, plus a genuinely top class collection of facilities you won't find in the adjacent council park. For those of us without a membership card it's a long slog round the edge, eventually locating the main entrance where 4×4s and sportscars wait to be waved in by security.
Putney Bridge sees a brief return to busy-ness, before the path dips through a subway to emerge in Bishop's Park [photo]. This is where spectators watch the start of the Boat Race, and also where Patrick Troughton's vicar walks in The Omen before being impaled by the lightning conductor toppling from the top of his nearby church. All Saints' is also the only church where I've ever been a page boy, several years before the impaling, although I'm glad camcorders hadn't been invented at the time because I fear I was a rather precocious three year-old. Next up, Fulham Palace (been there, blogged that). Next up, Craven Cottage (ditto). And then a low-rise residential promenade, good for strolling, facing out towards the much greener London Wetland Centre and the Harrods Furniture repository. Halfway up is the ever-bustling Crabtree Tavern, where the public school alumnus count is high, then the Riverside Studios, which are famously arty. But the most interesting bit's past Hammersmith Bridge, where old pubs intermix with gardens and elegant townhouses. One in particular...
Somewhere pretty: Kelmscott House[photo] William Morris, the esteemed designer, was born in Random Borough 21, bought his first house in Random Borough 29, and opened a wallpaper press in Random Borough 1. So it's only right that I've finally ended up at his last home, in Random Borough 31. William moved here in 1878 from another Thameside property, far upstream in Gloucestershire, downsizing from Kelmscott Manor to Kelmscott House. This was already a house with an impressive history - the world's first electric telegraph had been built in the garden sixty years earlier. Morris added tapestry to his many talents while he was here, and weaving, and dabbled in social democratic politics, until 1896 when he dabbled no more. His house is now in public ownership, apart from the basement and the former coachhouse which have become a (sort of) museum. They're owned by the William Morris Society, who keep a collection of artefacts (and run their offices) from within. Access is on Thursday and Saturday afternoons only, so I timed my visit carefully and slipped in. I'd just missed a lecture on Sanderson, the design company who bought up Morris's business, so there were plenty of serious WM devotees still lingering around, chatting in the lower library or washing up in the rear kitchen. There wasn't much to see, but I think I now finally understand some of the huge complexity of triple-application wood-carved stamp-template production. And William'swallpapers are gorgeous, as I fear I've told you several times by now. by tube: Ravenscourt Park by bus: 27, 190, 267, 391, H91
A last half mile of Hammersmith (and Fulham) finished off my Thames-side walk. The highlight was a flotilla of blue-sailed yachts riding the rising tide at the London Corinthian Sailing Club[photo], watched by a sun-baked crowd downing pints sitting on the river wall. The lowlight was succumbing to the lure of an ice cream van on Upper Mall, only to be told that my freshly-dripping 99 cost £2.50. And the missed opportunity was 7 Hammersmith Terrace, with one of the last preserved Arts and Crafts interiors in the country, which closed for the winter season last week and won't reopen until April. Forgive me if I return some day and wax lyrical about the wallpaper. by train/tube: Imperial Wharf / Putney Bridge / Stamford Brook
It's now five years since I started out on my random exploration of the capital. At this rate I've still got three years to go, and if I've not reached your borough yet I'll get there eventually. Rather unexpectedly, my map reveals that there are only two clusters still to visit - a thin dangly strip of western boroughs and another big chunk in the east. Which of these leftovers will be my destination for today? Will I have to filter through the bountiful cultural highlights of somewhere central and important, like Westminster or Camden? Or will I be dispatched somewhere rather more peripheral and attraction-lite, like Barnet or Bexley? More importantly, will I be heading west or staying east?
Once I've researched my randomly-chosen borough online I'll then 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
Random borough (13): It's time once again for me to take another random trip to one of London's 33boroughs. A dozen down, and still five years of visiting to go. As I write I have no idea which one of the 21 remaining 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 or Lambeth because they're the twelve (dark grey) boroughs I've picked out already. So far my random jamjar has shown a very distinct preference for south and central London. Is today the day I finally head out east, or maybe start filling in that gaping void to the west? Or will it be Croydon or Wandsworth, in which case I shall be even more suspicious that something geographically biased is going on.
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 takelotsofphotographs 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...
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: The Beckham Trail There's no more famous Waltham Forest resident than Posh Spice's husband. Or rather there's no more famous ex-resident, because David Beckham moved out of his parents' Chingford semi several years ago to establish a property portfolio across Cheshire and all points global. But never fear. Since 2003, football fans wishing to follow in David's golden footsteps have been able to follow the official Beckham Trail, courtesy of Waltham Forest's (ill-templated) website. This is a motley collection of ten locations supposedly allowing visitors to track young David's childhood progress, although to be honest it's more a list of municipally-owned properties around South Chingford than anything more exciting. And you never actually find out where he lived. And it's not really a walking route, more a list of car-bound sat-nav destinations. But I gave Becks a try.
1)Whipps Cross Hospital: In common with hundreds of thousands of other locals, little David was born in north-east London's largest infirmary complex. Nobody seems to know in which ward, there's no plaque or anything, so visitors are undoubtedly better off crossing the road and wandering round the nearby lake instead. Ice creams and rowing boat hire available.
2)Peter May Sports Centre: Just off the North Circular, this green ampitheatre is home to the Under-10s of Ridgeway Rovers, who've had less successful seasons since young DB moved on. On Saturday the sport of choice was cricket, and not much of it, so the goalnets flapped desolately in the wind.
3)Walthamstow Stadium: David used to work here as a glass-collector (which may give you some idea how desperate some of the locations in this trail are). Alas nobody works here now, bar a few security guards, because this much-mourned dogtrack closed down last year to be reborn as yet another humdrum housing development. Until that happens, however, the stadium's untweaked white frontage still stirs the hearts of passing travellers (and you can even glimpse the mighty mothballed scoreboard from location number 2).
4&6)Ainslie Wood & Larkswood Park: These are two wood-fringed grass squares with plenty of footie space, one beside David's nan's flat, the other closer to home. Saturday saw many of the district's soccer-addicted youngsters out for a sunny kickaround, some under the organised auspices of grunting coaches, others merely running around for fun. Desperately ordinary, and surprisingly evocative. Non car-drivers also get to enjoy a twin-peaked bluebell-spotting walk between the two locations.
5&9)Chase Lane School & Chingford School: Come see where David probably wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, except on the football pitch. Or in one case don't see, because David's primary has been completely rebuilt under a private finance initiative. Lovely for the kids, no doubt, but no highlight on this tour.
7&8)Ridgeway Park & Mansfield Park: Of the umpteen parks along this trail, Ridgeway was my least favourite. That's probably because it was the only park that was busy, with hoop-shooting, police-leafleting and dog-bothering all popular activities. Visitors should note that the miniature railway only opens on summer Sundays, and that Walt Disney hasn't been back for a ride since 1954. As for Mansfield Park, that was unexpectedly fabulous. After a stroll through floral gardens, the land suddenly tumbled down to the Lea Valley below, with excellent views across a glistening expanse of reservoirs towards Ponders End and Enfield. I just can't imagine how young Becks could have found a surface anywhere flat enough to play football.
10)Gilwell Park: For a change this isn't a park, it's the southeast's most important Scout campsite. And here the Beckham Trail ends, with the rather feeble affirmation that a woggled David once went to cub camp here. It's also a mile outside the borough boundaries, so I gave the place a miss, for now. You might consider giving 80% of the trail a miss, to be honest. Like the route's inspiration, it's past its prime. by train: Highams Park by bus: 97, 215
Somewhere sporty: Leyton Orient David Beckham may have been a temporary local legend, but Leyton Orient have been kicking around Waltham Forest a while longer. The O's are London second longest-serving professional team, after Fulham, formed in 1881 when members of a Hackney cricket club fancied some exercise to see them through the winter. In 1937 the club crossed the Lea from Clapton to Leyton, and they've been playing on the marsh's edge ever since. Orient's brushes with the top flight have been notably brief (a single season over 1961/2, plus an FA Cup semi final appearance in 1978), so the team is often overshadowed by its more prestigious upper echelon neighbours.
Orient's chairman would rather you called his ground the MatchroomStadium, but for most "Brisbane Road" does just fine. It casts a grey and unexciting presence from the western side, looking more like a lacklustre trading estate office block, although the club's logo of two big red wyverns brightens the facade a little. You'll find the stadium off Leyton High Street round the back of Coronation Gardens (where's there's an unlikely hedge maze, which I'll tell you more about if I ever get round to writing a series entitled Labyrinths of London). When I walked past on Saturday morning the street was pretty much empty, bar a semi-luxury Anderson's coach waiting patiently to whisk team members off to an away game. I'd like to think that the handful of sporting chaps I saw climbing aboard were members of the first team, keen to grab the back seats before setting off to play a London derby across the Thames. They probably were, but Orient's players aren't exactly household names (away from the back pages of the Waltham Forest Guardian) so I couldn't be sure. If the club ever takes up the option to play at the 2012 OlympicStadium they'll probably become rather more famous, but a mixture of low attendances and economic uncertainty makes that possibility fairly unlikely. As for the result of Saturday's match, a two-one away defeat to play-off-chasing Millwall. For the O's this season, another big fat zero awaits. by tube: Leyton by bus: 58, 69, 97, 158
Havering's on the eastern fringe of London, where the residents still wish they were part of Essex. It's big, the third largest borough in London. It's mostly Green Belt and packed with parkland. It's very suburban, very 'estate', very white. It's precisely where EastEnders should be set, full of Mitchells and Brannings who fled inner London two generations ago. And it's a borough without a Tourist Information Centre, which suggested that finding things to see might be a challenge. No such worries, I was kept more thanbusy throughout, from top to bottom.
Somewhere to begin: Havering Museum Yes, there's a Havering Museum, not that most folk outside the borough would know. It's new, only been open a year, tucked in on the site of the old Romford Brewery. And it's all here thanks to the devotion of a bunch of volunteers who put the paperwork together for a Lottery grant, assembled a collection with the proceeds and now staff the galleries four days a week. This museum was Big Society before the phrase was even born. And, unlike Wandsworth's lame attempt out west, I'm pleased to say that this place has got it right. There are two main galleries, exploring local history through a collection of objects ranging from Roman shards to old football programmes. Pubs and brewing take centre stage in one part, as you might expect, but it turns out that Havering had its fair share of proper history well before industrialisation and commuting came along. Each part of the borough gets a look-in, while around the walls are more thematic displays covering education, waterways, industry and the like. It's informative, it's modern, and it doesn't go too over the top with touchscreen interactivity. I was pleased to see there were more visitors than volunteers, which was impressive for a Saturday morning in a facility you might think most would overlook. And I especially enjoyed the temporary exhibition in the gallery out back, even though it was little more than several printed sheets stuck on display boards, so much so that went off and investigated the geographical subject further later in the day. You're very unlikely to visit, I realise that, but for two pounds fifty Havering has a engaging community resource of which it can be justly proud. by train: Romford[website][blog][twitter]
Somewhere pretty: Havering-atte-Bower Triple-barrelled, no less, Havering-atte-Bower is a delightful little village in the northeastern corner of London. A proper hilltop village with a green and a twisty street, plus royal connections going back almost a millennium. Edward the Confessor established a timber lodge here, which became the centre of hunting grounds known as The Royal Liberty of Havering. Later a proper palace grew up (to which the 'atte-Bower' suffix relates), and several monarchs including Henry VIII stayed overnight here. It's all vanished now, every last stone, but the parish church is built on the site of the old palace chapel. [photo]
I had precisely twenty-five minutes to explore Havering-atte-Bower. It's served by one of London's least frequent buses, the 375, so I had only the time it takes for the bus driver to reach the first roundabout in Essex and turn round. Off by the village green, start the clock, go. A sweet row of cottages looks out across the grass, which is not quite round enough for a game of cricket, hence the cricket club is tucked up a lane on the way to Harold Hill. There's a great view from the boundary, as the hillside tumbles down towards Romford, intermediate suburbia and the Thames. A white-painted water tower rises from a nearby field [photo], but there was no sign from the lane of the Round House beyond. This unusual 18th century home once belonged to Joseph Pemberton, one of the UK's foremost rose growers (and isn't round, it's elliptical). A little further on is PyrgoPark, site of the estate where Tudor princesses Mary and Elizabeth spent much of their childhood... but I didn't have time to get that far (and only two gateposts remain, so I didn't miss much). Back on the village green I nearly missed the stocks and the whipping post - not the medieval originals but still most unlikely survivors in a London village. The village sign is new, Boris came to unveil it last autumn, just across from the pond which may or may not have been used to dunk witches. I couldn't get inside St John's, only through an arch beneath the tower and round the back of the churchyard. Here I found the Havering Park Riding School, so busy on a Saturday that it merits its own greasy spoon trailer (Den's Nosh) frequented by horsey folk and welly-wearers. There was no sign of any other shop in the village, only twopubs and an Indian restaurant, but maybe I'd have found one if I'd ventured further down the main street towards the Essex border [photo]. No time, twenty-five minutes up, bus due. Next time maybe I'll come back and do the full walk, as recommended in this council leaflet, and see how much of this charming village I can fit in before the next-but-one bus arrives. by bus: 375 on foot: London Loop 20 and 21
Somewhere sporty: Romford Greyhound Stadium They take dogging very seriously in Havering. Romford has one of London's three last greyhound stadia - the only one north of the river now that Walthamstow's looking increasingly like flats. Come on a Saturday evening and the place is heaving, the streets too, as punters from all over make their weekly pilgrimage to the hare-chasing circuit. One of the best views is from a passing train, looking directly into the heart of the stadium, although only for a couple of fleeting seconds. For the proper experience, and to discover which dog won, you need to walk surprisingly far back from the station and find the turn-off past the bath showroom. Or drive - they drive a lot in Havering - and troop with the rest of your extended family down the lane to the stadium. It's a great Saturday night out, I can attest, so long as you enjoy a flutter, a beer and all your food served with chips. Stake a few coins on a hunch, or study the form seriously and gamble on win or place. The atmosphere by the trackside is electric as twenty-four legs race past to a chorus of raucous encouragement. Who's in the lead... no, who won... now who's got a lucky winning ticket? Not so on a Saturday morning. The stadium is silent, with only the front door at reception swung open revealing staff inside. I can stroll right up to the Main Stand and Chase Restaurant doors, or peer through a gap in the blue gates at the deserted arena within. Not a bark, not a cheer, not even the low hubbub of blokes in sportswear discussing latest form. And yet when I got home later, I discovered that a fourteen-race meeting was indeed underway, with victories for Regal Prince, Taxi Boss and Scrubit Maurie, amongst others. This was a made-for-TV occasion, satisfying punters in betting shops up and down the land, with only a handful of Romford locals entering through reception to watch events live. A free taster solely for those in the know, who can't wait until evening to properly go to the dogs. by train: Romford by bus: 86
Somewhere Big Brother: 27B Canonbury Square This is a picture of the very first Big Brother House, tucked away in the southeast corner of Canonbury Square. You're looking for the ground floor flat with the faint green disc to the right of the door - a tiny plaque to show where it really all began. This is also another Islington house lived in by Mr Blair, although in this case we're talking Eric Blair, better known as George Orwell. Sixty years ago Canonbury Square wasn't the prestigious address it is now, and when Orwell moved into this rundown apartment in 1945 he was inspired by its imposing shabbiness. It was here that he started to write his classic satire Nineteen Eighty Four, basing Winston Smith's home 'Victory Mansions' on this very flat. It all looks much more upmarket these days, but listen carefully outside and you can still hear the clocks striking thirteen.
Somewhere retail: Camden Passage I've spent far too much of my life being dragged round antique shops. Dank musty emporia stacked high with useless objects, the sort of stuff your gran used to have before she threw it all away in favour of something modern that actually worked. Rusty metal picture frames, wooden tables with deep authentic scratches, a selection of hideous porcelain voodoo dolls, all for sale at vastly inflated prices. If you have a penchant for antique shops then there's no greater concentration anywhere in the country than in Camden Passage, a maze of narrow lanes off Upper Street. Just don't go on a Sunday like I did because they're (almost) all closed. Upper Street itself is full of more modern boutiques selling equally overpriced must-have items, interspersed with a frighteningly large number of places to eat and drink. Halfway up you'll also find legendary estate agent Hotblack Desiato, the name used by local resident Douglas Adams for the lead singer of rock band Disaster Area in the HitchHiker's Guide To The Galaxy. by tube: Angel
Somewhere sporty: Highbury Few major sporting stadia are tucked away in the middle of respectable suburbia quite like this, but Arsenal's home ground lurks almost unnoticed amongst the quiet residential streets of Highbury. That is until you turn into Avenell Road and see the huge Art Deco facade of the EastStand looming up over the local neighbourhood. Forget Old Trafford, Anfield and other lesser arenas, this is the true field of dreams. Well I think so anyway. It did feel strange to stand here on a crowd-free non-match day with the streets deserted, although that may have been the fault of the drenching rainstorm playing out overhead at the time. Alas in a couple of years it'll always be this quiet round here as a brand new Arsenal Stadium is due to open just over the railway at Ashburton Grove. I'm sure it'll be state-of-the-art, but the thought of new housing going up around the old pitch feels somehow sacrilegious. Seaman Street, Wenger Way, Rice Road and Double Drive anyone? I'm sure you can come up with better. by tube: Arsenal
Somewhere random: Zoffany Road This final photograph shows the ultimate London address. Oh yes. Turn to the very end of the index at the back of the London A-Z and there you'll find Zoffany Road, a tiny residential street nestling deep in Upper Holloway, N19. It's not even 100 yards long, containing six trees, two streetlamps, one new car, 21 old cars, and one abandoned brown armchair decaying quietly on the pavement. The north side of the road is taken up by the concrete playground of a centre for children with special needs. It's hideous on the outside but no doubt inspirational on the inside, and the site has recently been rescued from evil property developers. On the opposite side of the road you'll find a single terrace of eight identical and very ordinary houses. The residents do normal things like getting in their cars and driving to the shops or popping out in the middle of a thunderstorm to drop bulging binbags outside their front door. Wonderfully average. Unlike the other eight places I visited on my random day out, this is where the real residents of Islington live. by tube: Archway
This was going to be my post on 9th September, the day after this blog's 20th anniversary, but the Queen put paid to that. Better late than never.
20 years of blogging takes a lot of filling. Since 2002 I've published 9496 different posts, which is at least one a day for over 1000 weeks (bar a few Christmas breaks in the early days). That's acres of screenspace to pack with maybe six million words, several thousand photos and a ridiculously high number of weblinks. It's fortunate I live in London which is possibly the world's most interesting city, but filling the blog has required an eclectic spread of content, indeed a non-stop torrent of inspiration because an empty template doesn't fill itself.
Here then are 20 of my biggest content-fillers over the last 20 years, i.e. themed series that went on for ages or came back time after time, presented as a clickable index. Maybe bookmark it for a future rainy day.
1) Open House(2002-2022)
London's finest architectural showcase has appeared on this blog every September since 2002 because it's the ideal opportunity to look at, and more importantly inside, hundreds of fascinating buildings. I usually get several posts out of it - the total must be approaching 100 by now - although I've been less enamoured with it of late. The absence of a detailed printed guide and a revamped website with a search facility resembling a brantub has made it much harder to spot this year's bighitters and one-offs, not to mention trickier to knock up an itinerary, plus I've been to a lot of the good ones already and blimey they were great.
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2) Single Life(2002-2019)
This was my first 'hit', a paean to the pros and cons of being coupled up. I wrote it three years after jettisoning from a long-term relationship, and came back and posted a slightly longer version (with added misbehaviour) every year thereafter. I paused after 10 years, having healed a bit, and I post it a lot less often these days. But unless one of you finally gets it on with me in the near future expect to read it again in 2024 for my (sob) 25th anniversary.
3) Quizzes and puzzles(2003-2022)
A recurring theme on this blog is that I like to throw in a quiz or a puzzle every now and then, usually when you're least expecting it. I enjoy how my readership come together to generate a full solution, one guess at a time, sometimes in minutes and occasionally over several hours. There are far too many of these one-off posts to catalogue here, but you can always track them down by going to my annual index post (see sidebar →) where I list all those from each year.
4) The Count(2003-2022)
This was just me countingthings, nothing interesting, although by describing the final tally as 'The Mystery Count' I unintentionally unleashed a beast which continues to bemuse and baffle. It also elevated the humble bottle of Becks to cultural significance, and basically everyone should try counting things for a month every year otherwise how on earth do you discover how your life is evolving?
5) Local History Month(2003-2019)
This is possibly the longstanding series I'm most proud of. A new theme every summer in multiple parts involving a relentless focus on somewhere local, and all without trying to scare the audience away. I particularly enjoyed the long walks following boundaries or lines of latitude and the really long walks following certain rivers. One series which might have helped cement this blog's reputation was my travelogue along the River Fleet, especially because this was back in 2005 when historic internet content was hard to source so it was tricky to be definitive, but I still got a monthsworth out of it. Go local, go deep.
» August 2003:Where I live(famous places within 15 minutes of my house)
» August 2004:Piccadilly(a walk down Mayfair's most famous street)
» August 2005:the River Fleet(tracking the subterranean river)[photos]
» August 2006:Betjeman's Metro-land(Baker Street to Verney Junction)[photos]
» August 2007:Walk London(following bits of London's six strategic walks)[photos]
» August 2008:High Street 2012(the Olympic highway from Aldgate to Stratford)[photos]
» August 2009:Walking the Lea Valley(50 miles from Luton to Leamouth)[photos]
» August 2010:Not-London 2012(Exploring Olympic venues outside the capital)[photos]
» July/August 2012:The OlympicGames(at the end of my street)[photos]
» September 2013:Walking the New River(a 400th birthday stroll)[photos]
» August 2014:London Borough Tops(the highest point in 33 boroughs)[photos]
» August 2015:Round Tower(a walk round the edge of Tower Hamlets)[photos]
» August 2018:51½°N(crossing London on a line of latitude)[photos]
» August 2019:Ten false starts(a clutch of single-post series)
6) Tube Week(2003-2012)
Here's where I started letting my nerdy side run riot. A whole week of tube-related content including reportage, facts and a daily quiz, and then somehow the same again for nine more years. I threw in an Overground Week in 2017 but haven't been back to this feature since, and maybe I should given that some of you would simply salivate at the thought. There must be more alphabetical challenges, quirky gatelines and Next Train Indicators installed by cretins out there by now.
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7) Riding a bus route(2003-2022)
I spotted early that a great way to blog about London was to describe what you could see from a bus (and the characters aboard it too). I started with a week of Cube Routes (1, 8, 27, 64, 125, 216, N343), followed that up with Square Routes and Prime Movers, then tackled chains of buses across and around the capital. I've also featured an alphabetof buses, London's ten shortest routes, even a trek along the North Circular, but the really fun one is my 'birthday bus ride' which I started at 42 and most recently reached the 57 to Kingston. London's bus routes offer an endless stream of potential content that's nowhere near exhausted.
9) Bow Road Update(2004-2005)
When Metronet arrived to upgrade my local tube station I got somewhat obsessive in recording what they were doing. This soon turned into recording what they weren't doing, because Bow Road was a guinea pig station and Metronet proved to be an entirely incompetent infraco. So slow and substandard was their transformation that I blogged about if relentlessly and eventually Evening Standard journalist Andrew Gilligan rang me up to get the full story. His subsequent expose was dismissed by the Chairman of Metronet thus: "Articles which refer to an unnamed passenger's account having travelled through a station quite frankly are not worthy of any detailed examination", so that told me. But Metronet went bust shortly afterwards so I'm claiming the last laugh there.
10) My new Z470xi mobile (2007)
Oh this was fun. I suddenly accelerated my blogposts by a week, claiming I had a mysterious new phone, and then unfolded an increasingly-desperate tale of impending apocalypse on and under the streets of London. I never told you what I was doing, just left you to work out I'd gone full-on fictional, and at the very end of the month went totally silent as if the worst had come to pass. I'm not sure I could get away with anything like this again, but it was very enjoyable to write.
11) London Loop(2007-2017)/Capital Ring(2011)
I walked both of these walks in short bursts, not necessarily in order, and spread my rambles over a number of years. My reports on each section are therefore all over the place, and the older ones are also much less detailed than the newer ones because I've ramped up the amount I write over the years. What's been useful is that a lot of you have walked these paths too so mentioning 'London Loop section X' provides a useful hook on which to hang many blogposts from the suburbs. Hurry up Ramblers, I'm ready to walk your new routes.
12) AnorakCorner(2007-2022)
I first started taking an interest in Underground and National Rail passenger numbers in 2007, knocking up lists of most- and (more excitingly) least-used stations on each network. Back then these statistics often went unnoticed for days, even weeks, whereas now the release of the annual National Rail passenger count is a full-on bandwagon-rolling press jamboree. I'd like to think that interest in "the least used station in administrative area X" might have started here, but I may just be deluding myself. Latest versions are here (each with links back to all the older versions): [rail][tube][bus]
13) PR emails I have received(2009-2022)
Even though I don't reprocess press releases or pump out sponsored posts, marketing minions still send me emails hoping that I might. I then delight in summarising their weasel phrases, with all brand names withdrawn, and totally ripping the piss. I don't receive as many as I did, thank god, but even last week I received a missive from Gene which ended "Reply something if you're interested. We're humans and love to help each other, don't we?". No Gene, not when they're as lickspittly mercenary as you.
14) Lost Rivers(2010)/Unlost Rivers(2015-2019)
After I totally failed to write a book on lost rivers for Penguin Random House I went ahead and wrote it anyway, but published it in monthly chunks on this blog instead. "Look," I said to myself, "I could have researched and catalogued the Tyburn, Neckinger and Bollo Brook with full pictorial evidence after all." Since then I've also gone on to walk many an unlost unculverted river, from the Dollis Brook to the River Shuttle, and in good news I still have several more to go. London blogging doesn't get much more quintessentially psychogeographical than this.
15) Beyond London(2014-2017)
After I'd emptied my jamjar I went on to explore the 17 local authority areas immediately outside Greater London. I started in Dartford and ended in Thurrock, heading out on a Saturday to visit four sites of interest and then forcing myself to write about them. Travelling was sometimes hard because transport's less good beyond London, but my explorations really helped in knitting together a mental picture of what the inner Home Counties look like. Also I don't think I'd ever have thought to go to Lowewood Museum, Stoke Poges and Titsey Hall otherwise.
2014: Dartford, Sevenoaks, Tandridge, Reigate & Banstead, Epsom & Ewell
2015: Mole Valley, Elmbridge, Spelthorne, Slough, South Bucks
2016: Three Rivers, Hertsmere, Welwyn Hatfield, Broxbourne, Epping Forest
2017: Brentwood, Thurrock
16) Bus Stop M(2015-2017)
My local bus stop should never have reached legendary status, but a chain of muck-ups during the installation of a segregated cycle superhighway lane brought it to unexpected prominence. If only they hadn't closed a bus stop by moving its pole 200m up the road and then forgetting to update all the electronic data that went along with it, maybe 20% of the debacle could have been avoided. I'm pleased to say Bus Stop M's a lot more stable now - it even has its own Countdown display - although nobody's ever replaced the spider map someone removed in 2020, and I'd be much obliged if someone at TfL could print one out and slap it back up.
19) Unblogged(2018-2022)
I've now brought you four years of these snippety summary posts, one per month, listing one thing per day I never told you about at the time. Sometimes it's quite trivial, sometimes it's something that would never have deserved a post of its own and sometimes it's deliberately obtuse because I have no intention of telling you what it really is. A special hello to the misguided optimists who, having read the phrase "questions will not be answered", go ahead and ask one anyway. One day I will learn to write these unblogged posts as the month progresses, but I always seem to end up rushing it all at the end.
20) The Olympics(2002-2022)
I can't finish without mentioning the Olympics, an ultra-local project which tentativelyemerged at the start of my blog, peaked in the middle with the Gamesthemselves and is still reverberating through the Lower Lea Valley today. The 2012 Olympics has undoubtedly generated more column inches on this blog than any other single topic, thanks to the simple accident of me unintentionally living nextdoor, so brace yourself for a lot more. The five-ring circus never goes away.
The eastern boundary of Hammersmith and Fulham is the lost river of Counter's Creek. The last few hundred yards are still visible as a tidal inlet, running between the old Lots Road power station and the luxury apartments of Chelsea Village [photo]. The Village is a concentrated enclave of wealthy souls packed into wharfside stacks, only a few of whom are fortunate enough to have a river view. The new Imperial Wharf development nextdoor isn't quite so exclusive, and the artificially turfed garden by the river is open to all in case an October heatwave should break out [photo]. But prospective homeowners should watch out for the racket caused by helicopters landing at Battersea across the water. And lovers of fine architecture should probably choose to live somewhere else. I scanned the entire waterfront here attempting to spot a building more than 30 years old and, bar a couple of church spires across the river, I failed. This is the Thames as real estate, devoid of soul.
William Morris, the esteemed designer, was born in Random Borough 21, bought his first house in Random Borough 29, and opened a wallpaper press in Random Borough 1. So it's only right that I've finally ended up at his last home, in Random Borough 31. William moved here in 1878 from another Thameside property, far upstream in Gloucestershire, downsizing from Kelmscott Manor to Kelmscott House. This was already a house with an impressive history - the world's first electric telegraph had been built in the garden sixty years earlier. Morris added tapestry to his many talents while he was here, and weaving, and dabbled in social democratic politics, until 1896 when he dabbled no more. His house is now in public ownership, apart from the basement and the former coachhouse which have become a (sort of) museum. They're owned by the William Morris Society, who keep a collection of artefacts (and run their offices) from within. Access is on Thursday and Saturday afternoons only, so I timed my visit carefully and slipped in. I'd just missed a lecture on Sanderson, the design company who bought up Morris's business, so there were plenty of serious WM devotees still lingering around, chatting in the lower library or washing up in the rear kitchen. There wasn't much to see, but I think I now finally understand some of the huge complexity of triple-application wood-carved stamp-template production. And William's wallpapers are gorgeous, as I fear I've told you several times by now.
Random borough (21): Time once more 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 13 remaining borough names will be revealed when I unfold the slip of paper I'm about to pick from my legendary "special jamjar". I could pick any one of the other London 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, Brent, Redbridge, Ealing, Harrow or Croydon because they're the twenty (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.
Random borough (13): It's time once again for me to take another random trip to one of London's 33 boroughs. A dozen down, and still five years of visiting to go. As I write I have no idea which one of the 21 remaining 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 or Lambeth because they're the twelve (dark grey) boroughs I've picked out already. So far my random jamjar has shown a very distinct preference for south and central London. Is today the day I finally head out east, or maybe start filling in that gaping void to the west? Or will it be Croydon or Wandsworth, in which case I shall be even more suspicious that something geographically biased is going on.
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.
1) Whipps Cross Hospital: In common with hundreds of thousands of other locals, little David was born in north-east London's largest infirmary complex. Nobody seems to know in which ward, there's no plaque or anything, so visitors are undoubtedly better off crossing the road and wandering round the nearby lake instead. Ice creams and rowing boat hire available.
3) Walthamstow Stadium: David used to work here as a glass-collector (which may give you some idea how desperate some of the locations in this trail are). Alas nobody works here now, bar a few security guards, because this much-mourned dogtrack closed down last year to be reborn as yet another humdrum housing development. Until that happens, however, the stadium's untweaked white frontage still stirs the hearts of passing travellers (and you can even glimpse the mighty mothballed scoreboard from location number 2).
4&6) Ainslie Wood & Larkswood Park: These are two wood-fringed grass squares with plenty of footie space, one beside David's nan's flat, the other closer to home. Saturday saw many of the district's soccer-addicted youngsters out for a sunny kickaround, some under the organised auspices of grunting coaches, others merely running around for fun. Desperately ordinary, and surprisingly evocative. Non car-drivers also get to enjoy a twin-peaked bluebell-spotting walk between the two locations.
7&8) Ridgeway Park & Mansfield Park: Of the umpteen parks along this trail, Ridgeway was my least favourite. That's probably because it was the only park that was busy, with hoop-shooting, police-leafleting and dog-bothering all popular activities. Visitors should note that the miniature railway only opens on summer Sundays, and that Walt Disney hasn't been back for a ride since 1954. As for Mansfield Park, that was unexpectedly fabulous. After a stroll through floral gardens, the land suddenly tumbled down to the Lea Valley below, with excellent views across a glistening expanse of reservoirs towards Ponders End and Enfield. I just can't imagine how young Becks could have found a surface anywhere flat enough to play football.
David Beckham may have been a temporary local legend, but Leyton Orient have been kicking around Waltham Forest a while longer. The O's are London second longest-serving professional team, after Fulham, formed in 1881 when members of a Hackney cricket club fancied some exercise to see them through the winter. In 1937 the club crossed the Lea from Clapton to Leyton, and they've been playing on the marsh's edge ever since. Orient's brushes with the top flight have been notably brief (a single season over 1961/2, plus an FA Cup semi final appearance in 1978), so the team is often overshadowed by its more prestigious upper echelon neighbours.
Yes, there's a Havering Museum, not that most folk outside the borough would know. It's new, only been open a year, tucked in on the site of the old Romford Brewery. And it's all here thanks to the devotion of a bunch of volunteers who put the paperwork together for a Lottery grant, assembled a collection with the proceeds and now staff the galleries four days a week. This museum was Big Society before the phrase was even born. And, unlike Wandsworth's lame attempt out west, I'm pleased to say that this place has got it right. There are two main galleries, exploring local history through a collection of objects ranging from Roman shards to old football programmes. Pubs and brewing take centre stage in one part, as you might expect, but it turns out that Havering had its fair share of proper history well before industrialisation and commuting came along. Each part of the borough gets a look-in, while around the walls are more thematic displays covering education, waterways, industry and the like. It's informative, it's modern, and it doesn't go too over the top with touchscreen interactivity. I was pleased to see there were more visitors than volunteers, which was impressive for a Saturday morning in a facility you might think most would overlook. And I especially enjoyed the temporary exhibition in the gallery out back, even though it was little more than several printed sheets stuck on display boards, so much so that went off and investigated the geographical subject further later in the day. You're very unlikely to visit, I realise that, but for two pounds fifty Havering has a engaging community resource of which it can be justly proud.
I had precisely twenty-five minutes to explore Havering-atte-Bower. It's served by one of London's least frequent buses, the 375, so I had only the time it takes for the bus driver to reach the first roundabout in Essex and turn round. Off by the village green, start the clock, go. A sweet row of cottages looks out across the grass, which is not quite round enough for a game of cricket, hence the cricket club is tucked up a lane on the way to Harold Hill. There's a great view from the boundary, as the hillside tumbles down towards Romford, intermediate suburbia and the Thames. A white-painted water tower rises from a nearby field [photo], but there was no sign from the lane of the Round House beyond. This unusual 18th century home once belonged to Joseph Pemberton, one of the UK's foremost rose growers (and isn't round, it's elliptical). A little further on is Pyrgo Park, site of the estate where Tudor princesses Mary and Elizabeth spent much of their childhood... but I didn't have time to get that far (and only two gateposts remain, so I didn't miss much). Back on the village green I nearly missed the stocks and the whipping post - not the medieval originals but still most unlikely survivors in a London village. The village sign is new, Boris came to unveil it last autumn, just across from the pond which may or may not have been used to dunk witches. I couldn't get inside St John's, only through an arch beneath the tower and round the back of the churchyard. Here I found the Havering Park Riding School, so busy on a Saturday that it merits its own greasy spoon trailer (Den's Nosh) frequented by horsey folk and welly-wearers. There was no sign of any other shop in the village, only two pubs and an Indian restaurant, but maybe I'd have found one if I'd ventured further down the main street towards the Essex border [photo]. No time, twenty-five minutes up, bus due. Next time maybe I'll come back and do the full walk, as recommended in this council leaflet, and see how much of this charming village I can fit in before the next-but-one bus arrives.
They take dogging very seriously in Havering. Romford has one of London's three last greyhound stadia - the only one north of the river now that Walthamstow's looking increasingly like flats. Come on a Saturday evening and the place is heaving, the streets too, as punters from all over make their weekly pilgrimage to the hare-chasing circuit. One of the best views is from a passing train, looking directly into the heart of the stadium, although only for a couple of fleeting seconds. For the proper experience, and to discover which dog won, you need to walk surprisingly far back from the station and find the turn-off past the bath showroom. Or drive - they drive a lot in Havering - and troop with the rest of your extended family down the lane to the stadium. It's a great Saturday night out, I can attest, so long as you enjoy a flutter, a beer and all your food served with chips. Stake a few coins on a hunch, or study the form seriously and gamble on win or place. The atmosphere by the trackside is electric as twenty-four legs race past to a chorus of raucous encouragement. Who's in the lead... no, who won... now who's got a lucky winning ticket? Not so on a Saturday morning. The stadium is silent, with only the front door at reception swung open revealing staff inside. I can stroll right up to the Main Stand and Chase Restaurant doors, or peer through a gap in the blue gates at the deserted arena within. Not a bark, not a cheer, not even the low hubbub of blokes in sportswear discussing latest form. And yet when I got home later, I discovered that a fourteen-race meeting was indeed underway, with victories for Regal Prince, Taxi Boss and Scrubit Maurie, amongst others. This was a made-for-TV occasion, satisfying punters in betting shops up and down the land, with only a handful of Romford locals entering through reception to watch events live. A free taster solely for those in the know, who can't wait until evening to properly go to the dogs.
This is a picture of the very first Big Brother House, tucked away in the southeast corner of Canonbury Square. You're looking for the ground floor flat with the faint green disc to the right of the door - a tiny plaque to show where it really all began. This is also another Islington house lived in by Mr Blair, although in this case we're talking Eric Blair, better known as George Orwell. Sixty years ago Canonbury Square wasn't the prestigious address it is now, and when Orwell moved into this rundown apartment in 1945 he was inspired by its imposing shabbiness. It was here that he started to write his classic satire Nineteen Eighty Four, basing Winston Smith's home 'Victory Mansions' on this very flat. It all looks much more upmarket these days, but listen carefully outside and you can still hear the clocks striking thirteen.
I've spent far too much of my life being dragged round antique shops. Dank musty emporia stacked high with useless objects, the sort of stuff your gran used to have before she threw it all away in favour of something modern that actually worked. Rusty metal picture frames, wooden tables with deep authentic scratches, a selection of hideous porcelain voodoo dolls, all for sale at vastly inflated prices. If you have a penchant for antique shops then there's no greater concentration anywhere in the country than in Camden Passage, a maze of narrow lanes off Upper Street. Just don't go on a Sunday like I did because they're (almost) all closed. Upper Street itself is full of more modern boutiques selling equally overpriced must-have items, interspersed with a frighteningly large number of places to eat and drink. Halfway up you'll also find legendary estate agent Hotblack Desiato, the name used by local resident Douglas Adams for the lead singer of rock band Disaster Area in the HitchHiker's Guide To The Galaxy.
Few major sporting stadia are tucked away in the middle of respectable suburbia quite like this, but Arsenal's home ground lurks almost unnoticed amongst the quiet residential streets of Highbury. That is until you turn into Avenell Road and see the huge Art Deco facade of the East Stand looming up over the local neighbourhood. Forget Old Trafford, Anfield and other lesser arenas, this is the true field of dreams. Well I think so anyway. It did feel strange to stand here on a crowd-free non-match day with the streets deserted, although that may have been the fault of the drenching rainstorm playing out overhead at the time. Alas in a couple of years it'll always be this quiet round here as a brand new Arsenal Stadium is due to open just over the railway at Ashburton Grove. I'm sure it'll be state-of-the-art, but the thought of new housing going up around the old pitch feels somehow sacrilegious. Seaman Street, Wenger Way, Rice Road and Double Drive anyone? I'm sure you can come up with better.
This final photograph shows the ultimate London address. Oh yes. Turn to the very end of the index at the back of the London A-Z and there you'll find Zoffany Road, a tiny residential street nestling deep in Upper Holloway, N19. It's not even 100 yards long, containing six trees, two streetlamps, one new car, 21 old cars, and one abandoned brown armchair decaying quietly on the pavement. The north side of the road is taken up by the concrete playground of a centre for children with special needs. It's hideous on the outside but no doubt inspirational on the inside, and the site has recently been rescued from evil property developers. On the opposite side of the road you'll find a single terrace of eight identical and very ordinary houses. The residents do normal things like getting in their cars and driving to the shops or popping out in the middle of a thunderstorm to drop bulging binbags outside their front door. Wonderfully average. Unlike the other eight places I visited on my random day out, this is where the real residents of Islington live.
