'These Foolish Things'

Day 27

Dagenham East - Dagenham Heathway - Dalston Junction - Dalston Kingsland - Debden

After another week off (a long weekend in Prague with Mrs Nowhere Man) I'm back on track (pun very much intended) and attacking the 'D's with a vengeance.

There are just nine of them in total, and with a bit of luck I hope to have crossed off over half of them by the end of today.

***

It's a hell of a long old trek to Dagenham from Ealing. While the District Line takes me directly from the one to the other, it does so at its own rather sedate pace, and the journey takes a long time.

Correction:

It takes a looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong time...

It's nearly two hours after setting off that I finally arrive at Dagenham East, having passed through central London and out the other side - emerging into the daylight around about West Ham.

The overriding impression of this side of London is of tower blocks and graffiti. There don't seem to be many pockets of green to soften the landscape and although many of the tower blocks look relatively modern, the graffiti and the detritus left to rust by the side of the tracks lends it all an air of dilapidation.

I pass a couple of familiar sights along the way - the tube stations at Bow Road and Becontree and the Three Mills at Bromley-by-Bow - but by the time I arrive at Dagenham East I'm not exactly feeling optimistic about what I'll find there.

I know only two things about Dagenham - one is that Ford motor cars have had a manufacturing plant here since the 1930s (although it now only produces engines, rather than entire cars) and the other is that it was the birthplace of Dudley Moore, who with Peter Cook immortalised the name of the place in the series of 'philosophical' discussions which became known as the 'Dagenham Dialogues'.

I'll come back to both Ford and Pete and Dud in a little while, but first my initial impression on exiting the station.

Dagenham East

Well, unfortunately it seems my fears were well founded.

Even allowing for the grey clouds louring above, the whole place seems predominantly grey and industrial. I've had this experience in other places of course, and perhaps time has blurred my memory of them, but Dagenham seems to be the drabbest place I've visited so far.

I wander up the main road (passing row upon row of identically nondescript terraces and several boarded up or be-shuttered shops) but within minutes I'm resigned to the fact that this is as good as it gets.

The only flicker of amusement I get - and which eventually provides the theme for today's blog - is from a couple of the shops (also closed and shuttered) that stand forlornly a little way up from the station. Both have chosen to adopt (in something of a British Tradition) a pun-inspired name for their businesses. This sort of mild tomfoolery is something I've come to appreciate about our high streets, particularly since the institution was celebrated so enthusiastically by the comedian Dave Gorman in his erstwhile Sunday morning radio show on Absolute Radio.

The show, which can still be downloaded in podcast form (and I urge you to do so here or on iTunes), was instrumental in collecting together a huge number of punny shop names onto the fictional Pun Street. Some of the best include a dog grooming parlour called "Indiana Bones And The Temple Of Groom", a painter and decorator called "Luther Van Gloss" and a frozen haulage specialist called "Super-Calibre Frigo-Logistic Import-Export Davis".

Other streets were gradually added, such as Creepy Close (which housed a day-nursery called "Sticky Fingers"), Fail Lane (a Chinese take-away called "The Roman Empire" ?!), and Vain Parade (more of which anon...)

I've always liked a good pun (if that's not a contradiction in terms) and while not the best, the two I see in Dagenham this morning do at least serve to lift my mood just a little.

The first - actually a café - is called "The Girl Of Sandwich" and is not immediately obvious perhaps, although I think most people have heard of the Earl Of Sandwich and his apocryphal invention of the bread-based snack. The second is far more straightforward - an Ironing and Dry Cleaning business called simply: "Hot Pants".

***

I toy briefly with the idea of heading south towards the river, where I gather the Ford motor plant is located, but I think I've had enough grey industrial landscape for one morning, and I still have another station in Dagenham to visit.

However, for your information, the Dagenham plant was opened in 1931 and produced various models including Cortinas, Anglias, Escorts and Fiestas up until the early 2000s.

Increased production in other plants in Europe meant that the plant gradually became less viable until it was decided that it would only produce engines rather than full vehicles, and this is what it has done since 2002.

***

I give up on Dagenham East, and travel the one stop back westwards to Dagenham Heathway, hoping for a little more colour and interest.

Dagenham Heathway

And - for a brief moment - I find it. Well - colour anyway...

Dagenham Library - I suspect they have many copies of "50 Shades Of Grey"...

The library development also contains 82 flats, each with a coloured glass-enclosed balcony. It certainly livens up an otherwise average street corner, but the rest of the Heathway, which is the main shopping street here, is, I'm afraid, unable to raise my enthusiasm level for the place.

There are (paintwork peeling and graffiti covered of course) several pawn-brokers, charity shops, ethnic eateries and nail salons, but nothing which tempts me in. I can't somehow see Messrs Pete and Dud feeling comfortable sipping a cosy beer together in any of the local establishments, bemoaning the attentions of 'bloody Greta Garbo' or pondering the mysteries of film-stars' 'busty substances'. I decide to cut my losses and head on to Dalston and, hopefully, more salubrious surroundings.

***

I arrive at Dalston Junction (on the Overground) at 1.30 and immediately decide to stop at a venue very familiar to me, for a spot of lunch.

Dalston Junction

Although not primarily known as a place to eat, the Arcola Theatre (and in particular its bar) does a good range of food and I settle down with a hefty cheese and chutney sandwich and write up my notes on the day so far.

Arcola Theatre

The Arcola was my home for a short time back in January when I took part in a Rehearsed Reading of a new play here, so I know this place relatively well, but in fact I first appeared at the Arcola in its previous home a little way up the road. It started life in 2000 in a former textile factory on Arcola Street, but moved to its present (and more pleasant) location on Ashwin Street in 2011.

The theatre stages many plays by both new and established writers, often with a social or political bent, and is highly respected within the industry.

It's also a very relaxed place to have lunch and shake off the rather glum mood that settled on me in Dagenham.

Superficially, Dalston might be said to have much in common with Dagenham. Both have a widely multi-cultural demographic and the shops, cafés, market-stalls and mobile phone shops I see here are no more 'up-market' than the ones in Dagenham. And yet, there's a huge difference in the feel of the place. Whereas Dagenham felt oppressive and unwelcoming, there's a vibrancy here that reminds me of places like Brixton and Camden.

It's also the home of not one, but two establishments that have appeared on the aforementioned Dave Gorman show, coming up for consideration before the Pun Street Planning Committee.

The first of them is a halal butcher's shop called PAK Butchers. If you don't immediately see the pun, it may be that not being a devotee of the soap opera Eastenders the name 'Pat Butcher' means nothing to you. Or, more likely given that there's also a PAK's Hair and Cosmetic Centre just round the corner from the butcher's, it isn't actually a pun at all.

Punintenional?

This, unfortunately, was one of the limitations of the show. It relied on the general public (who sent in the names of the businesses they spotted around the world) to exercise rigorous scrutiny, which sadly they often failed to do.

PAK Butchers was considered by the planning committee, and if memory serves, was granted tenure very briefly on Pun Street before being ousted by what was generally agreed to be the far superior pun-named halal butcher's called "Halal: Is It Meat You're Looking For?"

Dalston Kingsland - Sorry, can't stop, I've got puns to find...

Passing Dalston Kingsland, the second of my two stations here, I continue my punny pilgrimage through the streets of Dalston, heading west along St Jude Street to an inconspicuous little coffee shop with a bit of an unusual name.

Tina, I salute you too...

While it clearly isn't a pun, the apparent overweening vanity of the name inspired Mister Gorman and his co-hosts to create an entirely new street - Vain Parade - on which to house it.

Assuming (as the Pun Street Planning Committee did) the eponymous owner of the shop, Tina, to have a rather inflated sense of her own importance (given that she had decided to enshrine these sentiments in the name of her coffee shop), it seemed a perfect inaugural candidate for Vain Parade.

Naturally keen to meet this paradigm of self-promotion I enter the coffee shop expectantly. Shelves full of purchasable plastic travel mugs emblazoned with the phrase 'Tina, we salute you' seem to confirm my expectations - this woman has her own merchandise for heaven's sake!

However, I'm sorry to report that though they do make a fine cup of coffee, there's sadly no Queen Bee preening herself on a throne behind the counter while her minions scurry around serving the customers, pausing every so often to salute their mistress in the manner demanded.

Tina, by J.H. Lynch

The chap behind the counter tells me that the 'Tina' in question is the subject of a painting (a copy of which hangs on the wall of the coffee shop) by an artist called J. H. Lynch. It's the sort of painting popular in the sixties and seventies - a bit like the 'Green Lady' by Vladimir Tretchikoff - which provided suburban households with an alternative wall decoration to the ubiquitous flying ducks.

It's a bit kitsch and a bit retro and a bit quirky - and therefore much like many of the coffee shops you'd find in neighbouring Islington.

Sadly, like PAK Butchers, it seems this place has also managed to find its way past the Pun Street Planning Committee under false pretences...

***

I walk back along St Jude Street and along Gillett Street (past the funky looking Vortex Jazz Club) and finally back to Dalston Kingsland Station. It's time to move on, and I catch the Overground to Stratford, and from there head out towards the far reaches of the Central Line - and Debden.

***

Debden station, like many of the more suburban stations, is tucked away out of sight down a narrow cul-de-sac. It's as if the locals don't like to admit that they're umbilically linked to the rest of the Capital and seek to conceal the station from view - if you can't find it, you can't use it...

Debden

At the end of this cul-de-sac the main road running north-south is Chigwell Lane, which to the south meets the M11, and to the north becomes Rectory Lane. It's along Rectory Lane that I head first - in search of another link to the acting profession - the East 15 Acting School.

Perceptive readers may perhaps have noticed that Debden, which is a suburb of Loughton in Essex, is not actually in the E15 postal area, despite the school's name. It is in fact in IG10 and the school takes its name from the fact that it was heavily influenced by the work of Joan Littlewood and her company the Theatre Workshop. This was based at the Theatre Royal, Stratford, which did have the E15 post-code.

The school is well-respected and has some very familiar names among its alumni, such as Alison Steadman, Marc Warren and Gwen Taylor.

East 15 Acting School



It's tucked away down a tree-lined and cctv-monitored driveway so I only venture far enough to get a photo of the front of the building before heading back down Rectory Lane, and then turning left onto The Broadway - Debden's main shopping street.

Among the usual collection of high street shops I spot the final pun of the day - a hairdresser's (who always seem keen to go down the punning route) called "Blow Your Top". It isn't the best or funniest pun I've ever heard, but it's functional - and having had my illusions shattered by some of the other establishments I've encountered today, I'm glad to end on a bit of genuine, honest-to-goodness, naff English word-play.

A little further along the street, on a couple of trestle tables set up on the pavement, I'm surprised to see a stall selling the sort of paraphernalia I'd expect to see on a Crimewatch report about a drug bust.

Proudly displayed in little Tupperware boxes are various brands of cigarette papers, 'roaches', small sealable plastic bags of various capacities, lighters, mini-scales and other accessories. I keep looking round, expecting to hear the scream of sirens and the squeal of brakes as half a dozen police cars surround the stall and officers pin the trader to the floor with shouts of "You're bleedin' nicked me old beauty!" But nothing happens.

I'm sure the owner of the stall would claim, no doubt correctly, that everything he sells can be used quite innocently by the everyday smoker. Perhaps, but it still looks decidedly dodgy to me.

But that's about it for Debden. The other shops on the high street are nothing exciting, and after stopping to buy a bottle of coke, I head back to the station - happy at least to have ticked off five out of the nine stations under the letter 'D' and well on my way to completing another section of my journey.

Until next time... Toodle-pip!