'Sunshine On A Rainy Day'

Day 16

Caledonian Road - Caledonian Road & Barnsbury - Camden Road - Camden Town

After almost a solid week of rain, today sees only a few grey clouds in the sky when I set off this morning. Let's hope they've done their worst and that it stays dry, if not actually sunny, while I travel around what must be one of the easiest sections of my journey so far.

All four stations are within two miles of each other in North London - I can walk from Caledonian Road (Piccadilly Line) to Caledonian Road & Barnsbury (Overground) then get the train to Camden Road (Overground) and walk to Camden Town (Northern Line). A doddle!

However, let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Two thoughts occupy me as I sit on the busy Piccadilly Line train to Caledonian Road.

Firstly (and perhaps most obviously) this is the first day of visiting the 'C' stations. Another landmark on the journey that, I'm beginning to realise, is going to take me rather a long time. I already feel like I've been doing this forever, and I'm still only on the 3rd letter of the alphabet. Although it's only been a total of fifteen days of actual travel (today is the sixteenth), I'm averaging one day out a week - which means it's taken me since February to get this far. And there's such a long way to go...

The second thought springs from a comment left by a faithful, if anonymous, reader (thanks for sticking with it!) who, on Day 14 commented on that day's relative lack of excitement. Coupled with a tweet I received from a resident of Brockley, bemoaning my use of the word 'sleepy' to describe what I found there, this got me thinking about the whole 'excitement' thing.

Clearly, not every station I visit will afford me the sort of excitement I encountered in Bounds Green. Nor, quite frankly, would I want it to.

On the other hand, there have been a number places where all I seem to find is row upon row of dull, grey, anonymous buildings. No historical, social or architectural interest can be cajoled out of them, and they seem to be scowling at me with a 'What do you want?' look about them.

And I've tried to record that faithfully. This is London - all of it - even the boring bits.

I try - believe me I do - to dig out some little nugget in each place. Before I set off each day, I scour the internet, peruse my books, even go for virtual walks in the area using Google Street View - but sometimes, sadly, there really isn't anything to find.

It shouldn't be all that surprising - after all, each station brings me to just a few streets-worth of London at a time, and not every street can be a Piccadilly or a Knightsbridge. It may well be that in seventeen-hundred-and-something Admiral Nelson broke wind in a tavern in Shoreditch, but unless there's a plaque commemorating the fact, you might walk past the Poundland or Kebab shop that now stands on the site and never know.

***

All of which brings me to Caledonian Road, which at first glance looks like it might end up being just another such anonymous grey street.

The area immediately outside the station doesn't look too promising, although the station itself is at least more attractive than some, with it's distinctive ox-blood red terracotta tiling (which, if you recall, I first encountered at Belsize Park, designed by the same architect - Leslie Green).

Caledonian Road - the colour red very much a theme here.

At this end of Caledonian Road (or 'The Cally' as the locals call it) I find mainly blocks of flats and offices. However, I know from my research that the walk south from here to the next station will take me past one of the most famous prisons in Britain - HMP Pentonville.

I set off in that direction. On the way I pass 'Knowledge-Point', one of the several independent training colleges specialising in 'The Knowledge'. This is the extensive set of pre-set routes that every black-cab driver in London is required to learn in order to receive their licence. There are 320 routes in Central London (and many more for the suburbs), and drivers must be able to name not only each street, in order, that they pass through, but also the type of junctions they cross, what landmarks or famous buildings lie alongside them, and in what order they appear on the street. It can take up to three years study, followed by several attempts at the exam, before the qualification is gained.

After a few more minutes I reach Pentonville Prison. Opposite a café (the amusingly named 'Breakout' Café) stands a seemingly innocuous white wall, behind which you can just catch a glimpse of barbed wire and barred windows.

Pentonville - Just Visiting...

The prison has been 'home' to various well-known figures, including Oscar Wilde, Dr Crippen, John Christie, and in more recent years, Boy George and George Michael. It was opened in 1842, when it held 520 prisoners in individual cells. These days it has a capacity of over 1300 - which must, I assume, mean that that there are either many more cells than there were originally, or that there are at least two or three prisoners to each cell - which does seem rather crowded...

Incidentally, if you've ever wondered why prison uniforms used to be printed with arrows all over them, I can inform you that the 'Broad Arrow' (or 'Pheon'), which comes originally from the world of Heraldry, was used to indicate the 'property of the British Government' (and is not, as I always imagined, an indication of which way up the prisoners should be packed into their cells). It is, apparently, still a crime to reproduce the Broad Arrow on any goods without authority.

The prison's website reads more like that of a theme park, with its Visitor Centre, Play-Area Facilities and Refreshment Bar, although I don't believe Alton Towers has introduced Biometric Identification checks - at least not yet.

Beyond the prison I reach a railway bridge that helpfully tells me the nickname of the street:

The Cally - quite why a street needs a nickname I'm not sure...

The bridge used, in common with many railway bridges, to have the word 'Ferodo' printed on it, advertising the Brake Pad manufacturer of that name. It seems odd to me now, having grown up seeing this name on bridges all over the country, that this was (correct me if I'm wrong) the only company that ever advertised in this way, and what is perhaps more surprising - the only way this company ever advertised. Can you imagine McDonalds or Starbucks coming up with something similar in a marketing meeting? 'I've got a great idea - let's just put our name on a few roundabouts...'

The other side of the bridge is where I find - although I'd be forgiven for missing it - Caledonian Road & Barnsbury station.

Caledonian Road & Barnsbury

It's currently being renovated, so is hidden behind huge wooden hoardings, with just a narrow gateway leading into it from the street.

And the street itself is just getting interesting. There are plenty of shops and eateries along this stretch, and it feels a little more lively than the northern end of 'The Cally'. Nevertheless, unless I plan to walk all the way down to King's Cross (which I don't) I'll need to turn around and head into the Overground Station - so that's what I do.

***

And about five minutes later (golly this is an easy day's travelling...) I arrive at Camden Road.

Camden Road - power to the people?

The sun has decided to make an appearance after all, and although there are still one or two ominously grey clouds in the sky, it's suddenly a lot warmer and brighter than it was on Caledonian Road. It's as if the weather is saying 'Ooh that's better - yes, this is a much nicer place...'

It's immediately clear - in contrast to 'The Cally' - that this is where the cool people live (or at least where they come to visit). Even the railway bridges (having seen the demise of yet more Ferodos) have been 'branded'. Both this bridge, and the one at Camden Town, have a 'power' icon instead of the letter 'O' - Camden is 'switched on' geddit? Unless of course you want to be pedantic and insist that this icon is actually the symbol for going into 'standby' - in which case Camden is an annoying little red light.

I can practically see the next station on my list - Camden Town - from here, as it's only 450 metres away. First though, I have a little wander along the towpath of the Grand Union Canal, which passes under the road nearby.

It's not the prettiest stretch of the canal, by any means, and it takes me some time to find anything other than rather scummy water in it - but eventually I spot a  couple of narrow-boats, which are always worth a snapshot...

Grand Union Canal

Before too long though I stroll down Camden Road to Camden Town.

The station is familiar enough - another of Leslie Green's fantasias in red (he really should have changed his surname...) and - like Camden Road - there's a distinct sense of 'vibrancy' here. Like Brixton, Camden has a well deserved reputation for being lively, cosmopolitan and 'happening'. Suggs from Madness even wrote a song about the place.

Camden Town - 'I'll meet you by the underground'

Graffiti - not quite Banksy...

Up the road from the station are the various markets that Camden is also famous for, although a piece of graffiti on a nearby wall suggests an alternative to the 'Get Rich or Die Trying' market forces mentality...

The Markets are, as always, heaving with tourists and I avoid the crush by staying on the main road and letting it all wash by me.

'The' - not just 'A' - Camden Market

I do like this area, and enjoy the sense of fun the shopkeepers obviously have. Where else would you find shoe shops with giant Dr Martens or Converse shoes erected on the walls outside?

Camden High Street - shoe shop heaven

House Of Leather - and planes...

And, of course, if you own a leather goods shop, what better way to advertise your wares than a great big silver plane hanging off the front of your shop...

The variety and eccentricity of the shop frontages is matched only by that of the hairstyles and clothing worn by the visitors to the many tattoo parlours along the road. I spot, entering one such establishment, a man who, I feel sure, must be in the wrong place, as he is dressed in the de rigeur outfit of a member of the Ramblers Association - khaki shorts, beige shirt, cagoule and brightly coloured back-pack (worn on both shoulders, naturally). I just can't imagine what sort of tattoo would appeal to him - apart from perhaps the Ordnance Survey symbol for a church with a spire...

I decide to eat lunch at the 'Blues Kitchen', expecting (not unreasonably I think) that in an area with such a rich musical history, and that boasts such venues as the Roundhouse and the Electric Ballroom, this place will be reminiscent of the blues bars of Chicago - which I've had the pleasure of sampling. I walk in hoping to find what I did in Chicago - a dingy room, dining tables laid out, a few lunchtime diners scattered around, a bar serving the occasional beer, and a lone blues guitarist moanin' and groanin' his heart out, despite it being the middle of the day. In the evening the place would of course be packed, as Buddy Guy takes to the stage, but at lunchtime it's a more laid-back affair, with occasional ripples of applause rather than whoops and hollers.

The Blues Kitchen in Camden is, sadly, a somewhat sanitised version of all this. It's a nice enough bar, and the food (burgers of course) is pretty good, but the décor of faded American posters and instruments hanging from the walls seems rather 'plastic' and fake. The music - though great - is piped rather than live, and the empty stage in the corner seems to cower guiltily.

Even the piped music is soon drowned out by the various 'let's do lunch' meetings going on around me. Salesmen, media execs, software designers - they're all here and all determined to out-volume each other with talk about 'derivatives' that is itself, ironically, derivative.

It's a shame. I've enjoyed Camden - and even the Blues Kitchen, despite not meeting all my hopes, was a nice enough place to eat. I wander away from the flashy suits in the bar and back to the torn black denim and leather jackets of the High Street. As I breathe in for one last time the more bohemian atmosphere of what seems to me to be the 'real' Camden', the skies darken and it starts to rain again.

Time to go home.