'Cross Town Traffic'

Day 21

 

Chigwell - Chiswick Park

 

Another relatively short post, although the journey is anything but...

 

Today I cross from one side of London to the other and back, along pretty much the whole length of the Central Line.

 

Initially I had hoped to take in three stations today, but to add yet another trip up to the Chilterns to visit Chorleywood, on top of a visit to Essex and back for Chigwell, as well as fitting in Chiswick along the way, would be too much even for this intrepid traveller...

 

***

So it's off to Chigwell bright and early this morning (well, early for me, which in reality is about 9.30am).

 

I have high hopes of the place, as Charles Dickens (who, let's face it, has pretty much beaten me to every place I've been so far) once wrote of it: "Chigwell, my dear fellow, is the greatest place in the world!" - and he knew a thing or two about London's good and bad bits...

 

It takes me well over an hour to get there - though I don't particularly mind the journey. There's something strangely pleasurable about travelling the whole length (or as near as damn it) of a tube line. You start off with an empty tube, which gradually fills up as you head into the centre of town, and then, just as it's full to bursting (and you're grateful you got on at a terminus, as it means you got a seat right at the beginning) you begin to head out the other side and the train gradually empties again, leaving you as practically the only passenger to get off at the other end.

 

It's something the average commuter never sees - which is a pity.

 

***

There isn't, I'm afraid to say, much to see as I emerge from the station: a small parade of shops (including at least two or three beauty parlours) to my right, and that's about it other than a lot of (admittedly quite grand-looking) houses in either direction.

Chigwell - the greatest place in the world apparently

I'm not really getting the 'greatest place in the world' vibe, it must be said. Perhaps it's having a bit of an off-day.

 

The main fact about Chigwell that I've discovered in my pre-travel research, is that it's home to several current and former professional footballers and presumably therefore (a fact borne out perhaps by the number of beauty parlours) their wives and girlfriends as well.

 

Known in the 'trade' as WAGs, these women have always, it seems to me, been landed with rather an inaccurate moniker - or at least, one that can only ever be used in the plural.

 

A group of two or more 'significant others' (footballing or otherwise) could be a mixture of both Wives And Girlfriends, yes - but one woman must technically be either one or the other, surely? It's like the difference between 'mice' and 'mouse' - you can't have just one 'mice', any more than you can have several 'mouses'.

 

Now, I realise that the more grammatically correct singular term for a footballer's other half, which of course should be 'Wife Or Girlfriend', can't really be abbreviated in the same way as its plural, without causing offence to all sorts of people, so I propose that a new acronym be devised, and am happy to offer my own suggestion of a catch-all epithet here (purely to get the ball rolling you understand):

 

Significant Other And Partner, Yet Totally Independent Talented Woman (Assuming No Knickers)

 

Nothing to take offence at there, I hope...?

 

***

The accumulated wealth of several footballers, one or two TV celebrities, and a certain Lord Sugar, have created a sort of Essex Beverly Hills. Every other car is a top-end Mercedes (normally with the roof down) and every other house is surrounded by high walls and imposing looking iron gates, with the name of a security firm prominently displayed to warn off potential snoopers.

 

Perhaps the term WAG should actually be applied to the houses - Walled And Gated.

A few WAGs

Chigwell forms one corner of the so-called 'Golden Triangle' (with Loughton and Buckhurst Hill forming the other two). The name, according to one local, apparently has its origins in the belief that 'more properties change hands for cash around here than anywhere else in London', although it could equally refer to the preponderance of fake tan about the place.

 

Our old friend Dickens used one of the pubs here, 'Ye Olde King's Head', as the basis for The Maypole pub in Barnaby Rudge. Sadly the pub is no longer a pub, and has instead been somewhat mystifyingly converted into a Turkish restaurant called 'Sheesh', by none other than the aforementioned Alan Sugar. It's a fair old trek from the station to 'Sheesh', and about halfway there I decide I'm really not that interested in seeing what Lord Sugar has done to the place. It certainly won't have anything Dickensian about it, that's for sure.

 

So, I wander up and down for half an hour, but when you've seen one £3.5 million house complete with collection of various Mercs, you've seen them all. And besides, leg waxes and hair-straightening really aren't my glass of Chardonnay...

 

***

Chiswick Park Station is nowhere near Chiswick Park, for the very good reason that there is no such place.

Chiswick Park

 

There may have been, once upon a time, but if so I can find no reference to it. There is a Chiswick Common, but that's further east nearer to Turnham Green Station. Turnham Green itself is of course actually nearer Chiswick Park Station than it is to Turnham Green Station, but the bit of grass that is closest of all to Chiswick Park Station is... Acton Green Common (so green they named it twice?)

 

Go figure.

 

There is now a business park, which calls itself Chiswick Park, and in time no doubt everyone will assume that's where the station got its name - that's how history works after all...

 

***

Whereas Chigwell gave off a not entirely pleasant whiff of perma-tanned wealth, Chiswick Park (or more accurately Chiswick in general) has an air of quietly sophisticated affluence.

 

There are just as many Mercedes cars, and probably an equal number of beauty parlours, but somehow it's all done with a little more class.

 

Living in Ealing, not too far away, I already know Chiswick reasonably well, and have often come here to wander up and down the High Road. It's one of those places - like Islington - where I could happily while away an afternoon perambulating or popping into shops, or sitting with a coffee and people-watching.

 

And in fact, that's just what I do today. Leaving the station behind me (and I'm sure I didn't need to tell you whose hand sketched out the now-familiar drum-shaped entrance hall) I walk south to Chiswick High Road, and then east as far as Turnham Green Terrace. I don't want to overlap with a future visit there, so I double back along the other side of the road, wandering through the grassy open space of Turnham Green, which is currently filled with lunching Chiswickians.

 

Back at the station, and a little further along from it, I find the Gunnersbury Triangle Nature Reserve.

 

Gunnersbury Triangle
Nature Reserve

This is the third such nature reserve I've encountered on my travels (there was one at Arsenal, which I didn't explore, and another at Canning Town which I did) and all three have been slap bang next to busy railway lines - surely the last place you'd expect nature to seek refuge.

 

However, it seems that a regular dose of rattling tube train cacophony is just the tonic for the various flora and fauna to be found (so I'm informed) within the confines of this triangle of greenery.

 

 

 

Slim Shady...?

In fact, much like my experience at the Bow Creek Ecology Park in Canning Town, it's very pleasant and peaceful and the trees are green and lush, but I don't see much evidence of the Woodpeckers, Butterflies or other creatures supposedly frolicking unconcernedly in the undergrowth...

 

 

 

 

 

Nature being reserved...

Nevertheless, it's a relaxing way to while away a half hour or so, and I head back to the station with a few photos, and a feeling of calm, which lasts at least twenty seconds into the tube journey home...



 

'Changes'

Day 20

 

Charing Cross - Chesham

 

Two posts in one week! You lucky devils!

 

Having started the 'C's with some relatively easy journeys (all those lovely Camdens and Caledonians clumped together) the last couple of trips have been rather more taxing expeditions - heading out to such far-flung places as Canonbury and Chalfont & Latimer.

 

Given that the next few stations include Chesham (another trip to the Chilterns) and Chigwell (way out east) with Charing Cross and Chiswick Park either side - not exactly rubbing shoulders with each other on the map - it seems to me to make more sense to do a couple of shorter journeys in quick succession, rather than spend so long travelling that there's no time left for actually looking around.

 

So today I plan to visit just two stations - Charing Cross and Chesham - and we'll start off with a little history...

 

***

Charing Cross Tube Station (not to be confused with the railway station of the same name) has had various name changes over the course of its history, and trying to follow these changes can prove very confusing. The fact that nearby Embankment station (which of course I'll be visiting sometime in the future) has shared the same fate, and indeed some of the same names, only adds to the befuddlement.

 

So, bear with me, and do try to keep up…

 

The Underground station we know today as 'Charing Cross', was originally two separate stations - one for the Bakerloo Line (which was originally called 'Trafalgar Square' station), and a separate one for the Northern Line (which was called 'Charing Cross' and which was at that time the terminus of the Line). Then the Northern Line was extended south to join with the existing station at what is now called Embankment, but which at the time was rather unhelpfully also called Charing Cross.

 

To avoid confusion (hah!) The northernmost of these two Charing Crosses was renamed Charing Cross (Strand) while the southernmost was called Charing Cross (Embankment). These names lasted only a year, and in 1915 Charing Cross (Strand) was renamed simply Strand, while Charing Cross (Embankment) adopted the original name – Charing Cross.

 

So at that point, what we now know as Charing Cross was called Strand, and what we now know as Embankment was called Charing Cross. Got that? Sure? Ok...

 

Fast forward to the 1970s, when the station then known as Strand was temporarily closed so that it could be connected with the station originally known as Trafalgar Square (Remember that one? Read back a bit, you’ll find it right at the beginning). While this was happening, the station that was at the time called Charing Cross (but which we now know as Embankment) was renamed Charing Cross Embankment.

 

When the newly-combined Strand/Trafalgar Square station was opened in 1979 it was renamed for the final time (so far) as Charing Cross, and the other station, Charing Cross Embankment, was given its current name of Embankment.

 

Only in this country…..

***

Charing Cross (unless they've
changed the name again)

What all this means in practical terms is that Charing Cross tube station disgorges you (or rather me) into one of the major tourist attractions in London - Trafalgar Square. And since this blog is, if anything, an attempt to discover things about the capital I wouldn't otherwise have come across, I'm going to try to avoid the obvious attractions and look instead for one or two things the guide books may not mention.

 

 

However, I don't suppose I can get away with not mentioning the one feature of Trafalgar Square everyone knows about - so let's get it out of the way quickly, and then we can get onto the interesting stuff...

 

Charing Cross Station - and some bloke on a pillar.

Nelson's Column is such a major feature of the square that it's almost impossible to take a photo here and not include it. I suspect that, like me, many Londoners tend to take it rather for granted - just something for the tourists - but standing at the bottom of its 169ft 3in (18ft of which are the great man himself) you can't help but be impressed. The column and base are granite, the statue is sandstone, and the lions and panels on the pedestal are bronze - the latter being cast from cannons captured from the French fleet during the various battles they depict.

Landseer Lion

It is also the work of not one, but several different artists. While the overall design is that of William Railton, the statue was sculpted by Edward Baily and the lions by Edwin Landseer. The four bronze panels were by four more sculptors - Musgrave Watson, William F Woodington, John Ternouth and John Edward Carew.

Anyone who's ever had any building work done will at once appreciate that getting seven different sub-contractors to work together harmoniously is a far more impressive feat than sinking a few French ships, and as far as I'm concerned should merit a monument all of its own.

***
The rest of the square is hardly bereft of monuments, although some of the names are no longer familiar to anyone but scholars of naval and military history. George Washington is there, as are James II and George IV, but it is the statue that stands on the traffic island just to the south of the square that first draws my attention - though in fact, it's not the statue but the point it stands on that I'm interested in.

Charlie and Nellie

The statue is of Charles I - and was erected here in 1675, though it had been commissioned and made much earlier and been hidden from the Parliamentarians during the English Civil War. It stands on the site of an earlier monument - the Eleanor Cross - which had been placed there by King Edward I in memory of his queen - Eleanor of Carlisle. A replica of this cross now stands in front of the Charing Cross railway station on the strand.

However, the reason for my interest is that since the 18th Century the point now occupied by the statue of Charles I has marked the exact centre of London. All London Boroughs (and places beyond) are still defined by their distance from this spot, and for someone who is planning to visit most, if not all, of the capital, it's a place to take stock.

The exact centre of London - it's like standing at the North Pole (only a little warmer)

***

In the south-east corner of Trafalgar Square, largely ignored by the hundreds of tourists creating such immortal works of art as 'selfie with Lion', stands a little black door inserted into a column supporting an old lamp.

Through the windows you can, if you choose to look, see a couple of brooms and a bucket or two, and you would naturally (and correctly) assume that it is some sort of store-cupboard.

Britain's Smallest Police Station

What you may not realise, since as usual the powers-that-be have chosen largely to ignore this curiosity of British history, is that it is (or was) in fact a Police Station - the smallest in Britain, and quite possibly the world.

Trafalgar Square has long been the site chosen by demonstrators to voice their disgruntlement, and so in 1926, the Metropolitan Police installed this claustrophobic little sentry-box, so that officers (or rather one officer at a time) could keep an eye on any potential troublemakers. It had a direct telephone line to Scotland Yard, and apparently the light on top used to flash whenever this phone was used, so as to alert any nearby coppers, who would of course immediately rush to the aid of the poor mug who was stuck inside with a riot going on all around him...

***
Before leaving the Square and exploring a few of the surrounding streets, I wander to the north-east corner and the 'Fourth Plinth'.

Two phallic symbols
in one Square

The plinth, originally intended to hold an equestrian statue of William IV, has since 1998 been the site of various specially commissioned pieces of art. The current offering, 'Hahn/Cock' by Katharina Fritsch, is a visual and verbal response to the overtly male-centric posturing of the other monuments here. The German 'hahn', like the English word 'cock' has a phallic connotation as well as a farmyard one - and as the artist herself has stated, a woman creating something so overtly male is clearly a feminist statement, though one with a huge side-order of humour.
***

Bit of a one-sided
chat this Oscar

To the east of Trafalgar Square, round the back of St Martin-in-the-Fields church, is another monument - this time to a writer rather than a fighter.

'A Conversation With Oscar Wilde' was sculpted by Maggie Hambling in 1998 and is in the form of a seat (though a rather uncomfortable-looking one) so that passers-by can have a sit-down and a chat with the great 19th Century wit.

I ask him what he thinks England's chances are in the World Cup, but he doesn't seem to care very much so I move on.

Round the corner I think I might have stumbled across a slightly confused glamour model...

Really not sure what to make of this...

Fully dressed, and (shall we say) of a certain age - the woman certainly seems to be striking a pose, and (though I try not to look too closely) there does seem to be something in the nature of a thong around her lower-half. Is this an open-air brothel I've inadvertently walked into? Or is she posing for a modern-day Reubens (presumably hiding out of sight somewhere) who plans to artistically remove the clothing in his studio later...?


***
Back in the Square, and just before I head out to Chesham, I grab a coffee from the Costa on the first floor of Waterstones, and sipping it, I realise how much I like the arches and decorative panels on the pavement here.

I've seen them, walked on them, and ignored them a hundred times - so it's nice to stop and enjoy them for a few minutes.

And just for fun, in
Black & White too

Arches outside Waterstones

Finally, however, it's time to carry on with my journey - and once again I find myself heading out to the Chilterns, and to my next stop - Chesham.

 

 

***

Chesham is one of the various north-western termini on the Metropolitan Line. There's Uxbridge below it, Watford to one side, and between them on the map, both Amersham and Chesham - each nestling on its own little stretch of the line, which have diverged at one of the stations I visited the other day - Chalfont & Latimer.

I know from my advance research that Chesham is a market town, and being way out here in the Chilterns, is likely to be somewhat quieter than the bustling tourist trap I've just left.

I enjoy the journey though, and notice a couple of things for the first time.

Firstly, I don't recall being quite so impressed by the rolling countryside on my earlier visits to either Amersham or Chalfont & Latimer, and yet they're not that far away. Maybe I just wasn't looking, but shortly after leaving Chalfont & Latimer on the short branch-line to Chesham, the vista opens up and I get a fantastic view of hills, streams, trees, and general greeniness.

Passing through Chalfont & Latimer again so soon, gives me once more the sense that there's something a little odd about the place. This is exacerbated by the fact that of the half-dozen or so name-signs along the length of the platform, only one of them gives the station name as it appears on the tube map, i.e. 'Chalfont & Latimer' (with an ampersand), while all the others spell the word 'and' in full.

Curiouser and curiouser...

The second thing I notice on my way here is the fact that the Metropolitan Line doesn't have a single stop in Zone 3.

Now, at first glance this might not seem so unusual - after all, neither do the Circle Line or Waterloo & City Line. But they're unusual in that they don't (apart from a bit of the Circle Line) actually leave Zone 1. Every other line has stations in all of the Zones they pass through - except the Metropolitan.

It just skips over Zone 3 as if it weren't there.

There are stations - several of them - and the Jubilee Line which uses the same route stops at all of them between Finchley Road and Wembley Park, but the Metropolitan Line goes blithely by, ignoring them completely.

It really is very odd in this part of the world...

Chesham - the end of the line...

 Be that as it may, I arrive in the pretty little market town of Chesham and despite the gathering grey clouds, spend a pleasant hour or two wandering around its quiet streets.

Rather a quiet place...

The main shopping area is pedestrianized, with a clock tower at one end, a war memorial at the other, and the usual collection of shops in between.

Historically the town was apparently known for 'The Four Bs' - Boots, Beer, Brushes and Baptists - which were the main industries and religious affiliation of the place. But, despite enjoying the alphabetical bent of the epithet, I find little evidence of it, other than a couple of churches.

Stephen Fry spent his early years in Chesham before moving to Norfolk, and he writes in his first autobiography 'Moab Is My Washpot' of his brief time at Chesham Prep school. It was here that he broke his nose, giving it the distinctive deviation from the plumb that it maintains to this day.

He also returned here several years later, on the run from home, and stole a credit card from his friends' father's wallet - going on a spending spree that would shortly land him in prison.

Other notable residents have included Aneurin 'Nye' Bevan, D.H. Lawrence, and Guy Siner (who played the camp aide-de-camp Lieutenant Gruber in 'Allo 'Allo).

It's pleasant enough here, but like Amersham, and Little Chalfont, there's a sense of 'otherness' that leaves a stranger like me feeling out of place.

After a nondescript lunch in a Caffe Nero, I head back to the station, and leave (for the moment) this curious corner of the Metropolitan Line to its own devices. Perhaps one day I'll understand it, but perhaps not.

Perhaps, like Quantum Theory, or rap music, or a Tom Stoppard play, we're just not meant to understand it - but should simply accept it and move calmly and sensibly to the nearest exit...

'Chalk And Cheese'

Day 19

 

Chalfont & Latimer - Chalk Farm - Chancery Lane

 

I'm starting off with a long old schlep out to the Chilterns this morning for the first of today's 'C' stations - Chalfont & Latimer.
 

Chalfont & Latimer

Lying at the north-west end of the Metropolitan Line, just before it branches to the final two stations on the line (Amersham and Chesham), Chalfont & Latimer station is in the village of Little Chalfont.

The word Chalfont apparently means 'chalk fountain' or 'spring', and there are in fact three 'Chalfonts' in the area - Chalfont St. Peter (the largest), Chalfont St. Giles (of popular rhyming slang fame) and Little Chalfont, which is where I find myself this morning. (The 'Latimer' which forms the second part of the station's name, is a fourth village in the region, lying just north of Little Chalfont.)

As I begin to explore the station and its surroundings, the word 'private' keeps flitting across my mind. I get the distinct impression that strangers are not encouraged here. From the station itself, which, thanks to the many trees that surround it, is hidden from view the minute you leave its car-park; to the suspicious glances I get from the one or two locals I encounter on my wanderings,

Even the name of the station is secreted away, on a sign tucked under a deep porch, so that it takes me a while to find it as I stand in the car-park to take my usual photo.

And I can't immediately see why the place merits such protective secrecy. There's nothing here! (Or is that just what I'm meant to think...?) A few shops, a pub or two, some pretty houses (although very few actual people, as far as I can see) and a girls' grammar school are all it seems to offer.

I'm sure the other two Chalfonts are all very picturesque and rural and with much to commend them to the weary traveller. Little Chalfont however, seems to have no other raison d'être than to house this station, and even that seems a peculiar choice as the other villages it nominally serves are several miles away, and would surely benefit from having their own dedicated stations.

Strange then, that they seem to want to hide this station away so thoroughly. Unless of course, it isn't so much people coming here that they're afraid of - it's people wanting to leave...

If no-one can find the station, no-one can break free...

The village of Little Chalfont was, until relatively recently, actually called 'Chalfont Road Village', which is as clear a sign as any of its status as 'somewhere-on-the-way-to-somewhere-else', and the residents must have resented this somewhat, as they voted to change the name to the more dignified 'Little Chalfont' in 1925.

 

The one point of curiosity I find in the village, is down a narrow winding road called Finch Lane. About halfway down stands a reasonably pretty little house, which at first glance may not appear to have anything particularly noteworthy about it, but which on closer inspection reveals the reason for its unusual name of 'Bottle Cottage'



Bottle Cottage, Finch Lane



 



Bottles in the wall -
like you do...

Embedded into the walls of flint rubble are several diamond patterns, which are made out of the thick round ends of old green bottles. The house is a Grade II Listed Building dating from the late 18th Century, and was once, according to a local website, the home of the village blacksmith.

 

Why bottles? I have no idea - but its quirkiness appeals to me, and at least sends me back to the station thinking the trip hasn't been entirely a waste of time.

***
On then, to the next station - Chalk Farm.

Unlike the Chalfonts, with their 'chalk spring' heredity, the name Chalk Farm is derived from neither the word 'chalk' nor, it would seem, any particular farm of note.

 

Instead, it seems the name comes from that of a village that once stood here - Chalcot - which is itself a corruption of 'Chaldecot', meaning 'cold cottages'. The cottages in question formed the first settlement here on Haverstock Hill, which must presumably have been a bleak and inhospitable place back then.

And now here's your starter for ten, no conferring...

The ox-blood red tiles that form the façade of Chalk Farm station are the signature feature of which London Underground station designer?


Chalk Farm Station

If you answered Leslie Green - well done, top marks, go to the head of the class.

If you answered Charles Holden - I'll give you a couple of points for at least remembering that he was a station designer, even though he's the wrong one.

If you didn't answer with either of those, or indeed at all, then you clearly haven't been paying attention in class and I'll be having words with your parents at the next open evening. Now settle down and stop picking your nose...


The station at the junction of Adelaide Road (left) and Haverstock Hill (right)

The station stands at the junction of Haverstock Hill (where the cold cottages were) and Adelaide Road, and is almost, if not actually, as trendy as neighbouring Primrose Hill (to the south west) and Camden (to the south east). A number of 'celebrities' are associated with the area, including actors Lindsay Duncan and Denis Lawson, Singer and Actress Billie Piper, and the Milliband brothers who went to school on Haverstock Hill.

Just down the road from the station, and dominating the skyline, is The Roundhouse - now a major performing arts venue, but which was once a railway engine shed containing a huge turntable. In the days before steam locomotive designers realised they should probably make the engines capable of going backwards as well as forwards (true - incredible - but true), the trains had to be physically turned round in buildings such as this, whenever they had any maintenance work done on them.


The Roundhouse - praise be to the limited imagination of railway engineers!

In fact, The Roundhouse was only used as a railway shed for a couple of decades, before advances in railway technology (i.e. the locomotives were made bigger, and wouldn't fit onto the turntable any more) meant that the building was no longer capable of serving the purpose for which it was designed.

 

Normally in these situations, the building would then have been demolished, but luckily Gilbey's, a supplier of wine and spirits, took it over and used it as a warehouse for nearly a hundred years.

 

In the 1960s playwright Arnold Wesker was granted a 19-year lease on the building to turn it into an arts venue and after a great deal of fund-raising, succeeded in starting it on its long and sometimes 'chequered' journey to where it is today.

 

In its time it's hosted plays, nude revues, musicals, and concerts. It nearly closed in the 80s and 90s, was reborn in the 00s and today is one of the most popular venues in town.

 

On the roof of the newer wing is a figure now familiar across many parts of the UK - one of Antony Gormley's human forms. I always enjoy seeing these figures whenever I encounter them, and this one (called 'You') stands serenely watching the world go by below.

 

Roundhouse - Anthony
Gormley Figure

Are 'You' looking at me?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

***
The next, and final, stop of the day is Chancery Lane. 

 

Chancery Lane

The station isn't in fact on Chancery Lane at all, but a few hundred feet away at the junction of Holborn, High Holborn, and Gray's Inn Road.

The road itself is to the west of the station, and was originally the road used by the Knights Templar between their old temple on Holborn and their new church (the one we still know today as 'Temple') just south of Fleet Street.

It's the heart of the legal district here, with Lincoln's Inn to the west, Gray's Inn to the north, and Inner and Middle Temple to the south. The Law Society is housed at number 113 Chancery Lane, and the UK Patent Office used to reside on Southampton Buildings, a road just off to the east.

Across the road from the station is the Victorian splendour of the old Prudential Assurance building, which was designed by Alfred Waterhouse - architect of, among other landmarks, The Natural History Museum, Gonville & Caius College Cambridge, Balliol college Oxford, and Strangeways Prison Manchester. Another of his creations - Reading School - is where I spent my formative teenage years, learning so many valuable lessons (chief among which being that I was never going to set the world alight academically).


The Prudential Building

Further east is the bottom end of Hatton Garden - the diamond quarter. Here the many jewellers and diamond specialists smile benignly at young men trying to persuade young women that those huge rocks are 'so vulgar darling...'

Chancery Lane also happens to be the area in which my wife, Mrs Nowhere Man, works as a patent attorney. So before I set off and explore the area, I combine business with pleasure and the wife and I partake of a very pleasant lunch near her offices in New Street Square. This square is a relatively new development in the area (which is a very odd mix of the very, very old, and the ultra-ultra-modern) and has a number of very good eateries around its perimeter. In the summer, huge TV screens show the tennis from Wimbledon and the square is a mass of lawyers vying for a decent view and a place to sit. It's a wonder any work gets done at all - so convivial is it here. 

 

Having picked her brains about what to see and do here, I bid Mrs Nowhere Man farewell, and set off on a mini (and by no means comprehensive) tour.

The fact is, there's so much history here that it's impossible to take it all in in one go.

Aside from the legal associations, connections with the Knights Templar, and the proximity of Fleet Street, with it's newspaper barons and demon barbers, there is also a history of literary figures living, studying or working here. Among them, and perhaps most famously, is the man who first proposed a causal link between being tired of London and the suicide rate, and whose 'Dictionary Of The English Language' took him nearly nine years to complete.
 

Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese

Dr Samuel Johnson (for 'twas he) lived tucked away in the back streets north of Fleet Street at 17 Gough Square, but before visiting his house, I pay a quick visit to one of his other supposed haunts - a pub called Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, on Wine Office Court.

 

I say 'supposed', because in fact there is no evidence that he ever actually visited the place at all - unlike other 'regulars', including Charles Dickens, Oliver Goldsmith, G.K. Chesterton, Mark Twain, Arthur Conan Doyle and many more.

 

Wine Office Court (which is a
street, not a lawyer's 'to do' list)

Nevertheless, the association is played for all its worth by the pub, and I suppose there's no reason to think that he didn't actually visit it.

 

It's a dingy place, with little natural lighting to enliven the dark wood panelling, but this creates an atmosphere that sits very well with its olde worlde pretensions.

 

A sign on the wall outside, in Wine Office Court, provides another quote from Dr Johnson, which does at least resonate with my current project, as it exhorts the reader not to be satisfied with the 'great streets and squares' but to 'survey the innumerable little lanes and courts' of London.

 

Dr Johnson's House

And it's in one of these little lanes, just around the corner from the square in which we had lunch earlier on, that I find Dr Johnsons House.

I choose not to go in, having little interest in the reconstructed arrangements of furniture and tea-sets that the website tells me I will find within. Instead I spend a few minutes in the tranquillity of the little square on which the house stands.



Hodge - Dr Johnson's
pet domesticated carnivore
of the genus FELIS

There's a statue of his cat Hodge here, which, other than being mentioned in Boswell's famous biography, seems to have very little noteworthy about it. Being patted by the same hand that wrote the dictionary  (a distinction that might equally apply to his pocket handkerchief) seems little justification for being immortalised in bronze.

Still, it's a peaceful little corner, and a pleasant end to a long day's exploration.

'Land Of My Fathers'

Day 18

 

Canonbury - Canons Park - Carpenders Park

 

The first two stations on today's itinerary, as well as being alphabetically adjacent, share a common ancestry, as they (or rather the parcels of land on which they stand) were both once owned by the Canons of the Priory Of St Bartholomew The Great. Not surprisingly, it is this ancestry which is the reason both their names include the word 'canon', and are thus next to each other in the alphabetical list. What is more surprising is that they are in completely separate parts of North, and North West, London. More surprising still, however, is the fact that the priory that owned them both was actually nowhere near either of them as it was in Smithfield - EC1.

More 'property development' than 'spiritual development' it seems...

The priory was a eventually victim of the Dissolution in 1539 (although parts of the Smithfield building survive as a working church even today) but the names of the two areas stuck, and it is Canonbury, in Islington, which is the first on my list.

***
In the unexpected thrill of a shorts-and-sunglasses-worthy day, I have managed to leave home sans notebook and pen, and more importantly sans the information on the various places I'm visiting today, which I spent hours looking up yesterday. I remedy the former at a newsagent's in the station, but for the latter I'll just have to rely on memory and Google.

It is just as I'm emerging from the newsagent's in the station that I notice that the wall-mounted plastic leaflet-holder in the ticket hall contains a brand-spanking new tube map with the date 'May 2014' printed on the front of it.

The map I've been using was produced in December 2013, and I've spent much time checking and double-checking the list of stations as I travel - making sure (hopefully) that I don't accidentally miss any out.

I'm therefore a little perturbed at the sight of a new map, as it might just possibly have been updated to include stations that were previously closed for some reason or other. I check the alphabetical list on the back of both maps, and - as far as I can tell - they're identical. Phew.

I'm not sure what I would have done had I found a discrepancy. When I first started the blog I did make it quite clear which version of the map I would be using, so if a station suddenly appeared in the A or B section, I would, I think, be justified in claiming that it fell outside the original criteria of the challenge.

But......

Knowing me, it would niggle away until I gave in and felt I had to visit it. Maybe I would add it as an 'Appendix' to the blog or something. Luckily it hasn't arisen this time, but the longer I take about this journey, the more new versions of the map will be produced. Food for thought...

***
Canonbury - on the Overground Line - is a pleasant, leafy suburb typical of many in North London.

Canonbury - Bicycle Graveyard?

The 'gentrification' of the area over the years has meant that it now attracts music and film stars to the grandeur of its Georgian architecture, although there have always been one or two notable residents here, as we will see in a little while.

The first thing I decide to do here, however, is to re-connect with the unwitting watery bystander to my adventures in Bounds Green.

To the south-west of the station, starting at St. Paul's road, is a long straight stretch of manmade waterway called New River, alongside which runs New River Walk. It was this river (or rather, a more northerly section of it) which alert readers may remember was the scene of my unexpected and not altogether pleasant encounter with a replica-firearm.

Unable to imagine anything similar happening in such a genteel-looking area as this however, I follow the path that meanders alongside the incredibly still waters (which contrary to expectation, do not run very deep at all - less than a foot I'd say) and emerge unmolested at the other end...

New River Walk - a distinct absence of naughty people...

... Although I don't like the look of those two...

...having encountered nothing more dangerous than a couple of hungry ducks.

Turning north again, I reach Canonbury Square, where (among others) George Orwell and Evelyn Waugh both lived at one time or another. George Orwell is the only one who seems to have merited a plaque of any kind, but if you're interested Evelyn Waugh lived at 17a.

George Orwell Lived Here

Also on Canonbury Square (at the corner of Canonbury Road) is the Estorick Collection Of Modern Italian Art. Founded by an American collector called Eric Estorick (and nothing to do with the word 'esoteric' - although a collection which consists exclusively of modern Italian art might be said to be a little obscure) the museum contains works by many 20th Century Italian artists, including Russolo, Boccioni, Carrà and Severini.

No, I've never heard of them either...

***
Just around the corner from Canonbury Square, looking rather incongruous among the three-storey Georgian terraces, is the imposing edifice of Canonbury Tower.

Thomas Cromwell Lived Here

As you can probably surmise from the diagonally placed windows, this tower contains the staircase to what was once the Manor House belonging to the canons of St Bartholomew's. After the Dissolution, the house was granted by Henry VIII to his then trusted advisor, Thomas Cromwell, and remained in his possession until he was suddenly no longer trusted very much at all, and was beheaded in 1540.

Canonbury Tower

After that, the tower passed through various owners' hands, and was renovated several times, until eventually becoming the property of the Earl Of Northampton, in whose family it has remained ever since.

Among the other people who have lived here is the philosopher, scientist and writer, Francis Bacon. Some have claimed that he secretly held many Masonic and Rosicrucian meetings within its walls, although the evidence for this is less than conclusive. Nevertheless, the building has still been used as a Masonic research centre in recent years.

A sign on a very grimy window tells me that, if I call a certain mobile telephone number, and ask very nicely, I will be given a guided tour of the tower. However, the sign is sadly at least a year out of date, and the current occupants of the building (a school of some kind) have the only key. A tour is therefore, unfortunately, impossible.

So - it's back to the station, and on to Canons Park.

***
In contrast to the genteel elegance of Georgian Canonbury, the street outside Canons Park station has its architectural feet firmly in the 20th Century, with its semi-detached two-up two-downs, and low brick walls protecting the fuschias and hydrangeas beloved of the local residents.

Canons Park

However, since we know that this area was once similarly owned by those property-conscious canons, there must be more to the place than that - and indeed there is. The station, as you might have guessed, stands at the south-west corner of a park of the same name, which was originally part of the manor of Stanmore (owned by the priory) but which later formed the grounds of the stately home owned by the 1st Duke Of Chandos, James Brydges.

He named the house was 'Cannons', for obvious reasons, and lived there from 1713 until his death in 1744, when it passed to his son Henry. In that brief period it was a repository of many works of art collected by the 1st duke, and had the distinction of playing host to George Frideric Handel as 'resident house composer' - albeit for just one year.

However, a combination of the original building costs and losses in the South Sea Bubble meant that poor Henry didn't inherit very much actual cash, and the house and contents were sold off or demolished in 1747. A smaller house was built on part of the site by a prominent cabinet maker of the time, William Hallett, and this later became a school, while the remainder of the grounds was eventually acquired by Harrow Council and turned into the park that survives today.

The park is very nice (although on a sunny day, most parks would probably qualify for that description) and I spend an enjoyable hour or so wandering its open spaces and its nooks and crannies. In one such nook (or is it a cranny?) I come across a folly called the 'temple'.

The Temple - although I don't see much worshiping going on...

A lone sun-bathing young girl tries her best to ignore me as I take a photo, and I'm sure she thinks I'm mad wanting a picture of this old ruin - either that or she thinks I'm a pervy peeping-tom of some kind...

...unless you count sun-worshipping of course...

In the middle of the park are some more formal gardens - the George V Memorial Gardens - in which I sit on a bench for five minutes before working my way round the rest of the perimeter of the park towards the station.

George V Gardens

Next to the park (although I don't visit it today), is the church of St Lawrence, Whitchurch. Inside, behind the altar, the church is proud to display Handel's Organ (stop sniggering please) - the organ which the composer is known to have played during his residency at the house. Sadly no longer playable, its gilded pipes have been silent since 1877.

Much as I've enjoyed the sunshine in the park, if I'm going to see another station today I'll need to get a move on, so I head back to the station and try to work out the best way of getting from pretty much the top of the Jubilee Line, to pretty much the top of the Overground Line...

***
Although they look quite close on the tube map, the journey from Canons Park to Carpenders Park could be quite a trek on the tube: I'd need to go eight stops south to West Hampstead, then four stops across on the Overground to Willesden Junction, and finally another ten stops up to Carpenders Park.

However, knowing (as I've mentioned before) that the tube map can be geographically misleading, or at best restrictive, and with a bit of lateral thinking (literally as it happens in this case) I can go just one stop north from Canons Park, and then get a bus all the way from Stanmore to Hatch End - from where it's a quick and easy one-stop journey up to Carpenders Park.

Since, as you will know by now, I like to throw the occasional bus journey into the mix, this is what I decide to do. With the sun still beating down, and sitting on the top deck, I'm hoping the journey will pass particularly pleasantly.

Unfortunately the bus is rather like a greenhouse, despite all the windows being open, so it's not quite as pleasant as I could wish. Nor was I quite expecting the twenty-minute wait for the next train north that I encounter at Hatch End. Eventually, however I arrive at Carpenders Park - only to be very disappointed by what I find there.

Carpenders Park -
as attractive as it gets

I suppose I should have realised that I wasn't going to be overly impressed with the place when I emerge from the station subway (having narrowly avoided being run over by a teenager on his bike, trying to impress his girlfriend) directly into the corner of a Business Centre car-park: not really the most welcoming of sights.





Beyond the Business Centre I discover a collection of identical residential streets, primarily made up of bungalows but with a smattering of local shops and a lone pub called The Partidge, festooned with St George flags.

In fact the only remarkable thing about the place as far as I can tell, is the street names.

The row of shops stands on the corner of 'Delta Gain', while the Business Park is on 'Gibbs Couch'. There's an 'Upper Tail' and 'Lower Tail', and the incomprehensible 'Hangar Ruding' - none of which, despite their exotic nomenclature, has anything more to entice me.

The same teenage couple I saw hanging around the ticket hall on my arrival are still there - comparing text messages from their friends, and moaning about having nothing to do. I imagine this is a common complaint here, and giving up, I head back onto the platform to catch the train back southwards, only to discover that I have yet another twenty-minute wait before it comes...

Not even the trains want to stop here...