'Sunday, Bloody Sunday'

Day 33

 

Emirates Greenwich Peninsula - Emirates Royal Docks

 

It's been a while since my last post - a combination of two significant birthday celebrations (a 50th and a 40th) and (perhaps as a consequence of an immune system slightly weakened by the incessant alcoholic battering of these combined events) a bit of a cold, have meant that, although this trip took place on the 26th October, it's only now that I've gathered my notes into some coherent order. My apologies. Just imagine, if you will, that it's a couple of weeks ago, and the day dawns bright on a crisp October Sunday morning...

 

***

Well now - having already travelled by Underground, Overground, Bus, Boat and quite a bit of Shanks' Pony, it's high time to add another mode of transport to the list and take a brief trip across the Thames in a cable car.

 

This is London's newest form of transport, having opened as recently as June 2012, and takes a mere 10 minutes to cross the river, reaching a height of approximately 90 metres (or 300 feet).

 

Since this is a rather novel way to travel, and my wife Mrs Nowhere Man is quite taken with the idea of riding a cable car across the Thames, she has decided to accompany me on today's excursion. Unusually, therefore, I'm braving the weekend crowds and travelling on a Sunday. (Mrs Nowhere Man, unlike myself, has a 'proper' job and can't just go gallivanting around town during the week like I can.)

 

While we're that side of town, we've also decided to pay a visit to the Tower Of London to see the (by all reports) spectacular current installation of ceramic poppies which commemorate those who died in World War I.

 

Obviously the Tower (and its relevant stations - Tower Gateway and Tower Hill) is way down my alphabetical agenda, but since this installation is due to be removed after the 11th November, and I can't in all honesty see me getting round to the letter 'T' by then (not this year anyway!) - I'm going to get a little ahead of myself, see the poppies, and share a few pics of them with you, today.

 

***

Travelling on the tube on a Sunday is always a bit hit and miss - with Weekend Engineering Work (which, like the painting of the Forth Bridge, never seems to come to an end) throwing a spanner in the works of various underground lines.

 

Today it's the District Line's turn - not running between South Kensington and Aldgate East. This is slap bang in the middle of the most direct route from Ealing to Greenwich, so a little rethinking is called for, and we decide to head further east than necessary (on the Central Line) in order to be able to double back on ourselves on the Jubilee Line. What larks!

 

At Stratford (where we change from Central to Jubilee) there seem to be an inordinate number of people in fancy dress. Halloween isn't for five days and they seem too young to be students on a rag-week escapade, so I've no idea what it's all in aid of.

 

We get off the Jubilee Line at North Greenwich - the only tube station on the Greenwich Peninsula - a peninsula which is home to little other than the O2 arena (formerly the Millennium Dome) and the cable car. Since I'll be back at this station when I reach the 'N' stage of my journey, and don't want to pre-empt that visit by describing everything now, I'll move straight on to the hanging-over-the-Thames-in-a-cable-car bit, which is what today's all about.

Emirates Greenwich Peninsula

The cable car, as you've probably gathered, is sponsored by Emirates Airlines, and is thus rather quaintly called the 'Emirates Air Line' (must have been up all night thinking that one up...)

 

Preparing for 'Take-Off'

The stations are called 'terminals', the tickets are 'boarding passes' and the ten-minute trip is called a 'flight'. The same was true of the London Eye when it was sponsored by British Airways, and I can't help feeling relieved that neither attraction is sponsored by a less salubrious company. The idea of what Durex, or Tena Lady, or the makers of Preparation H, would call the cable cars hardly bears thinking about.

 

 

Since the trip is so short, and even without this blog to encourage me, my instinct would be to spend the whole time snapping away at the various 'sights' with my camera, it's easy to forget to take in the view as a whole.

Thames Barrier

 

Row, row, row of boats.

It is pretty good I must admit. To the east is the Thames Barrier - built in the early 1980s to protect London from potential flooding by exceptionally high 'surge-tides' from the North Sea.

 

To the west, is Canary Wharf, with its dominating skyline, and of course the O2, which I'm sure I'll be writing more about when I visit North Greenwich (whenever that might be!).

 

 

Quantum Cloud

There is an interesting looking sculpture in the water just in front of the O2 - and this I later discover is a piece called Quantum Cloud, by Antony Gormley.



I've already seen one of his rather haunting human figures on the roof of the Roundhouse at Chalk Farm and this scultpure develops the idea. Having explored the human form in various ways before - both with solid figures and figures made up of the 'space' between short lengths of metal, this sculpture extends the body beyond itself. It's hard to make out from my hurriedly snapped photo, but at the centre of Quantum Cloud is a standing figure - with a 'field' emanating from it depicted in joined metal lengths.

 

Come Fly With Me...

Ahead of me - to the north - the view is rather less inspiring. Apart from the chain of cable cars flowing in either direction, and the interesting architecture of a building called The Crystal (more of which anon), the north bank of the river consists of a rubbish dump, a builders yard, some rusty looking boats, and what look to be the beginnings of some construction work.

 

Royal Victoria Dock

The 'Royal Docks' of the approaching station (sorry - 'Terminal') name, are off to the right - and I've visited at least one of them before. Royal Victoria Dock is the nearest to the cable car, and is also the one that lies just to the south of the ExCeL, which I visited when I stopped off at Custom House.

 

On arrival at the Emirates Royal Docks terminal we spot yet more fancy-dress wearing young people, all heading in the direction (we presume) of the ExCeL. This needs investigating.

 

Emirates Royal Docks

 

But first we take a little wander around the dockside just by the terminal. The dominating feature of this side of the river is The Crystal, which I mentioned earlier. This is a building designed to be as eco-friendly and self-sustaining as possible. It generates its own electricity through solar power and a ground source heat pump, and houses a permanent exhibition on sustainable building.

The Crystal

We wander around a bit on the dockside - Mrs Nowhere Man taking in the views, while I investigate the growing number of costumed teenagers and young adults wandering past.

Mrs Nowhere Man taking in the view

Firing up the ever useful Google on my phone, I look up the current 'What's On' at the exhibition centre, and all is suddenly very clear.

 

Comic-Con.

 

Batman and Roberta?

Now, you may not have heard of this entity - unless you're a fan of comics, sci-fi, manga, Doctor Who, or any of the many other genres represented at this originally American (where else?) convention. Fans bedeck themselves in costumes that vary hugely in how colourful/revealing/well-made they are, in order to pretend - if only for a few hours - that instead of Tracey from Basingstoke or Kevin from East Grinstead, they are in fact Lara Croft or Han Solo.

 

Now I'm a Star Wars fan myself, and I enjoy Doctor Who and even the occasional Star Trek, But I really don't see the attraction of shivering my way across London in a costume made, in true Blue Peter fashion, from old cereal boxes and a few rolls of double-sided sticky tape. Occasionally you do get a more professional looking costume, and it's tempting to think that these must have been hired. But I'd be willing to bet that the people wearing them, often barely of wage-earning maturity, will have forked out several hundred quid for the pleasure of being able to dress up like this whenever the fancy takes them.

 

'I find your lack of faith disturbing'
'I don't care - no wristband, no entry!'

 

 

 

 

On the other hand this does mean that I can enjoy the rather surreal sight of Darth Vader getting his wristband checked by security...

 

 

 

 

 

 

After admiring (if that's the right word) the gathered geekery for a while, we decide it's time to head off to the Tower and the poppies, having ticked off the two stations down on my list for today.
 

Either this is Comic-Con, or those mushrooms I had for lunch were a bit dodgy...

 

At the DLR station, waiting for the train to Tower Gateway, we see more characters from page and screen arriving to join in the fun. Young women wearing minimal clothing (you can tell most comics are drawn by men), various rather weedy looking super-heroes, a couple of Grim Reapers chatting on the platform while resting on their scythes...

***

So, that's the next two 'E' stations done and dusted, but since they won't be here much longer, and you may not have had a chance to see them for yourselves, I'll leave you with some photos of the 'Blood Swept Lands and Seas Of Red' - or in other words, the poppies at the Tower Of London.
 

Blood Swept Lands...

,

A little background info.

Just a few of the 888,246 ceramic poppies.

... And Seas Of Red

Not to mention several thousand people trying to get a glimpse of them.

 

'Heroes'

Day 32

 

Elephant & Castle - Elm Park - Elverson Road - Embankment

 

Of the many and varied station names that litter the London tube map, Elephant & Castle must surely be one of the more exotic.

Elephant & Castle

The name comes from that of an old coaching inn that once stood here, and now refers to both the tube station and the area surrounding it, which is all very well but doesn't really explain anything. Why was the inn given such an odd name in the first place? British pub names, in my experience (which is reasonably comprehensive) tend to have at least some logic behind them. The Royal Oak, The Fox And Hounds, The Bricklayer's Arms - it's not too difficult to trace the origin of these names, be it to historical events, local pastimes or professional groups. But under what possible circumstances (especially four or five hundred years ago when the name was first used) would an Elephant - of all things - and a Castle come together in a south London suburb?

In fact (or at least, in probability) the Elephant & Castle pub was the favoured haunt of the Worshipful Company of Cutlers, whose Coat of Arms just happens to feature several Elephants (to symbolise the ivory used in the various handles) one of which has a castle on its back. The castle may in fact be a representation of a howdah, but that's pure speculation.

All of which is ancient history, and bears little relationship to the modern-day Elephant & Castle - a busy roundabout surrounded by offices, higher education establishments, a Shopping Centre, blocks of flats and a modern day pub-cum-steak house bearing the name of (though probably little other resemblance to) the original inn.

There are two entrances to the station - and they're very different in design. This is the result of one of those 'marriages of convenience' that have often taken place in the tube's history - where two stations, built at different times and serving different lines, have eventually come together underground and become one.

The entrance I encounter first is that which was originally the Bakerloo Line station. The Bakerloo Line terminates here, and its station is as, you can see from the photo above, a typical example of Leslie Green's design.

We'll come to the second (Northern Line) entrance in a while, but first I cross the busy road onto the roundabout at its centre, on which is the first of the many memorials I'm going to encounter today - although at first glance you'd be forgiven for not noticing its memorial-ness at all...

Michael Faraday Memorial

The silvery construction at the centre of the roundabout is a memorial to the scientist Michael Faraday, discoverer of electromagnetic induction (but don't ask me to explain what that is...). The memorial is a huge stainless steel box which actually contains an electrical substation providing power to the tube lines that run beneath it. It was designed by Rodney Gordon and erected in 1961.



Information on the Memorial

Immediately to the south of the roundabout, crossing the road again, I come to the other entrance to the tube station - this time forming the original entrance to the Northern Line station.

Northern Line Entrance
and Strata SE1

What draws the eye upwards though, is the huge skyscraper, somewhat reminiscent of an electric razor, that towers above it. This is the 'Strata SE1' - a residential high-rise building with its own wind-turbines on the roof, and winner of various design and popularity awards, as well as, by way of contrast, being voted in 2010 the 'ugliest building in the United Kingdom completed in the last 12 months' - thereby winning the 'Carbuncle Cup'.

Just south of the station entrance is a bronze statue of the eponymous pachyderm - which does add a little splash of colour to an otherwise rather grey and concrete area.

The Elephant and its castellated burden.

I don't plan on spending much more time in this area, but there's one more visit I want to make before I leave, and that's a little further south - to the East Street Market.

East Sreet Market

This lays claim to being the birthplace of Charlie Chaplin - although whether the birth actually took place at one of the stalls, or in a nearby building, is unclear. There is a blue plaque commemorating the famous birth, and the gazebos at the entrance are also proud to announce the association with the diminutive tramp. But none of the market's customers seem to be that bothered, and the 'genuine leather' and 'three for a fiver' goods that are being peddled here today seem a rather poor memorial to the legendary movie star.

Memorial Plaque to Charlie Chaplin

***

And so on to the next stop which is way out east on the District Line - Elm Park.



Elm Park

Elm Park is one of the last stops on this stretch of the District Line, and lies beyond some of the places I've already visited such as Barking, Becontree, Dagenham and East Ham. I've not, as a rule, been impressed with these places - finding them a little drab and down at heel - so I'm hoping that Elm Park will buck the trend and impress me a little more.

On arrival, my hopes are raised ever so slightly by the classical music being gently piped into the station from several small speakers. How very civilised.

Outside the station however, things soon fall into a familiar pattern. It's mainly residential, by the looks of things - row upon row of 1930s semis and terraces - with just one main shopping street immediately outside the station. The shops are the usual bunch too, and although it has a little less of the intimidating aura that some of the other places I've visited have exhibited, this comes at the expense of being just a little humdrum.

Why is this?

What is it about the eastern end of the District Line that makes it seem so depressed (and depressing)? Especially when you compare these places with their counterparts at the western end. Could you get any more wildly different than Richmond, Kew, Putney et al, compared with Dagenham and Barking and so on?

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. The East/West divide is as real as the North/South divide and is firmly entrenched in the London consciousness. Think 'West End' and you think glamour, glitz, wealth, power. Think 'East End' and what springs to mind is more poverty, grime, slums and deprivation.

This may be a historical hangover - but from what I've seen there's more than a little modern day truth to it as well.

However, determined not to give in too easily - I head north from the station to a park I've spotted on the map, and I have to say that here, at least, I find somewhere really pleasant to spend a little time.

Geese is the Word

Swan Lake

The park - Harrow Lodge Park - is a haven for both birdlife and (today at least) canine life. I lose count of the many dogs and their owners enjoying the open spaces, but like them I really do enjoy the walk around the central lake, with its geese, swans, ducks and many other feathery visitors.

Refreshed, and not a little relieved to have found at least one thing I can wholeheartedly endorse here, I head on to the next stop - Elverson Road.

***

Hmmm - I knew it was too good to last.

Elverson Road is  - and there's no polite way of putting this - a dump.

In fact the only thing I can give it any credit for is being the record holder for my shortest visit to any station thus far.

Elverson Road

Having made my way here via Canary Wharf (that bastion of wealth) on the DLR, I emerge onto a very plain looking street outside a very plain looking station. The research I've done in advance of my visit has yielded little in the way of 'things to see', and the sole point of interest on the map seems to be the Ravensbourne River, which runs through nearby Brookmill Park.

Two steps into the park, however and I'm immediately turning round and retracing my steps. No haven for wildlife this - unless you count the two very drunk and very offensive middle-aged men on the first park bench I see ahead of me. They shout and swear at anyone (me in this case) who gets within a few hundred feet of them, and - since the river seems to be a typically clogged up stretch of stagnant water, and the park a mere collection of scraggy trees rather than a pleasant place to take a stroll, I decide to cut my losses and get the next train out of here.

***

To ease my bruised sensibilities and remind myself that London does have some nice bits to it, I decide to get off the DLR at Cutty Sark, and take a boat  - the Thames Clipper - from Greenwich to Embankment - my final stop of the day.

Another reason for doing this is of course to tick off another mode of transport - well why not? - and when, on my next trip out, I visit the two stations at either end of the Emirate Air Line, I'll have used every from of public transport available to me - with the exception of the so-called 'Boris Bikes', which I have no intention of subjecting myself to!

The river trip is a slower journey than the tube would have been, but that's fine by me as I take in the views of Tower Bridge, Shakespeare's Globe, The Tower of London, St Pauls, City Hall, and the various wharves and docks that line the route.

After forty minutes or so, I disembark at Embankment Pier, ready for the last leg of today's journey.

***

Embankment Station was originally called Charing Cross - despite not being connected to the station that currently bears that name - and I’ve already touched on some of the history of the various name changes under the entry for Charing Cross on this blog.

 



Embankment Station

However it’s probably worth a recap. When this station opened in 1870, it served the District Line and was called Charing Cross. It was what is known as a “Sub-Surface” station – meaning it wasn’t very deep. Then a separate “Deep-Level” station for the Bakerloo Line was opened below it in 1906, and it was this station that was initially called Embankment. The opening of the Northern Line platforms brought another change of name, to Charing Cross (Embankment) in 1914, and then the stations were combined and renamed Charing Cross in 1915. In 1974 the station was renamed Charing Cross Embankment, and finally in 1976 it was renamed back to Embankment. Phew!

 

The Embankment in question is (at this point) the Victoria Embankment, which in turn forms part of the larger Thames Embankment - running from the Palace of Westminster to Blackfriars Bridge. It was constructed in order to incorporate part of London's new sewerage system (following the 'Great Stink' of 1858) and to ease congestion on the Strand.

 

It's also home to a particularly concentrated collection of statues, memorials and monuments.

 

W.S. Gilbert

I begin by walking eastwards as far as Waterloo Bridge. Along the way I pass a memorial to W.S. Gilbert (his co-writer Arthur Sullivan will be appearing shortly), a monument erected by the Belgian People in thanks for Britain's help during the first World War, and perhaps the most striking of all - Cleopatra's Needle.

 

Each of these has its own story of course - but it would take too long to go into all of them in detail. So, forgive me if I gloss over one or two of them in passing.

 

Firstly - William Schwenck (what a fabulous middle name) Gilbert, is of course one half of the famous writing partnership - Gilbert and Sullivan. Their operettas (The Mikado, Pirates Of Penzance, Iolanthe et al) were performed at the nearby Savoy Theatre by the D'Oyly Carte company and were the equivalent of today's hit west end shows.

Belgian War Monument

 

The Belgian War Monument really speaks for itself - Britain welcomed hundreds of Belgian refugees in the first World War, and this is a thank you from the Belgian people.

 

Cleopatra's Needle

Cleopatra's Needle is a genuine Egyptian obelisk, measuring 68 feet high and weighing 186 tons. Having said that, it has absolutely nothing to do with Cleopatra herself - having originally been erected for Pharaoh Thutmosis III. This  mistaken attribution is also shared by the two other obelisks of the same name - in Paris and New York. It's as if they collectively thought 'No-one's heard of this chap Thutmosis - who else can we use? Anyone think of any famous Egyptians? Erm... no not Omar Sharif... Ooh! I know......'.

 

Arthur Sullivan

At Waterloo Bridge I turn back - heading into the Victoria Embankment Gardens - where I find many more examples of the statuesque.

 

First we have Mr Gilbert's partner in rhyme - Arthur Sullivan. Social status was, apparently, always a bone of contention between the two men, so the fact that Sullivan gets a bust on a plinth, with a beautiful maiden draping herself in woe before him, while Gilbert gets an age-dulled plaque on the wall opposite the station, may be far from an accident.

 

The Camel Corps

The next statue I take note of is a rather petite camel and rider, commemorating the Imperial Camel Corps which fought in Egypt, Sinai and Palestine between 1916 and 1918. They stand barely two feet tall on their plinth and seem almost toy-like.



 

 

 

 

Robert Burns

Behind them, however, and dominating this part of the gardens, is by contrast, an oversized statue of the poet Robert Burns.

 

Other than the fact that he is frequently misquoted (it's the 'best laid schemes o' mice an' men' that 'gang aft agley' - rather than the best laid plans often going wrong...) I know little about oor Rabbie... For instance, I didn't know that he died young - only thirty-seven - nor that he made so little from his poetry that he had to supplement his income by working as a tax inspector...

 

Leaving the Gardens back at Embankment Station I continue westwards along the Thames, where not surprisingly the monuments become a little more military in nature.

 

I say not surprisingly, because we're entering Ministry Of Defence territory.

 

RAF Memorial

Thus we have the Royal Air Force memorial - primarily in recognition of those who fought in the first World War. And a little further on, a memorial to some more airmen - 'the few', who fought in the Battle Of Britain in World War II.

 

Battle Of Britain Memorial

***

Now, I realise that what I'm about to say may not win me any friends, but I must admit to a definite lack of jingoism in my attitude to the armed forces - and looking on some of these monuments and the people they commemorate, I take a moment to consider the word 'hero', which seems to me to have been rather devalued in recent conflicts.

Opposite side of the memorial

 

Of course I appreciate the job the armed forces do, often in horrendous circumstances, and I am fully aware that it is not a job I would ever wish to do myself.

Detail of the memorial

 

But that's just the point. They have in fact chosen to do this job. They made a decision, knowing full well what that decision might lead to. Does that make them all, by default, 'heroes'? Surely, if it is to mean anything at all, a heroic act must be one which is 'beyond the call of duty'.

 

I'm not  - by any means - diminishing the personal loss of each and every person who has died in conflict. Every loss of life is a tragedy for that person's loved ones. But there seems to be a growing sense that anyone who doesn't enter into the public wailing and gnashing of teeth which attends the death of a British serviceman or woman, is somehow insulting that person's (that 'hero's') memory.

 

We seem to have become incapable of keeping our grief private. There's a kind of emotional Big Brother making sure that we show the appropriate level of public mourning. Flowers left by the roadside, books of condolence, candle-lit vigils, Facebook and Twitter explosions at the death of a celebrity - I'm afraid I just don't get it.

 

Anyone who has ever known real grief - the death of a close friend or relative - must surely know the difference between that feeling and the momentary 'click on the RIP button' of what could be called 'Social Mourning'.

 

I apologise for perhaps bringing down the mood, and for any offense I might have caused. All I can say is that when my time comes, I would rather have one solitary person who feels genuine grief at my passing, than a thousand Facebook RIP messages.

 

Anyway - let's move on.

 

*** 

The last monument I pass, on my way back the tube station, is that of William Tyndale. He was a priest and scholar in the 16th Century who was the first to translate the Bible into English, thus making it more accessible to the common people and removing some of the Church's power - something they were not entirely happy about, naturally.

 

William Tyndale

He fled to Germany, but was eventually arrested, tried and executed (although this had as much to do with his opposition to Henry VIII's divorce of his first wife, as it did with his 'heretical' translation).

 

Ultimately his work formed the basis of The King James Bible, and as well as making the bible understandable to even the 'boy that driveth the plough', it also introduced such phrases into the English language as 'the powers that be', 'the salt of the earth', 'the twinkling of an eye', 'fight the good fight', and my own personal favourite - 'eat, drink and be merry'.

 

Now that's my sort of hero...

'Double Trouble'

Day 31

 

East Putney - Edgware - Edgware Road - Edgware Road

 

A wet and miserable day today as I set off once again - not a day I'm disposed to travel on really - but I'm meeting a friend of mine in Hampstead later on, and with a bit of a stretch of the imagination that could be said to be sort of on my route between my first two stations, so I brave the inclement weather and head, firstly, south to East Putney.

East Putney

 

This is (certainly at this time of day) 'Yummy Mummy' country.

 

Throughout its history, Putney has been a haven for the 'professional classes'. The streets today are lined with grand houses (not all of which have suffered the usual fate of being divided and subdivided into ever more miniscule flats and bedsits) and more boutique-type shops than your run-of-the-mill high street. A quick glance down any list of Putney's famous residents past and present will quickly give you an idea of the gentrified nature of the place.

 

Thomas Cromwell, Cardinal Wolsey, William Pitt The Younger, Clement Attlee, Richard Branson, Nick Clegg, E.M. Forster, Simon Le Bon, Marc Bolan... the list goes on.

 

Having said all of this, East Putney station and the area immediately surrounding it is a bit of a let-down. Given such an august history to live up to, I'd expected rather more than the tiny red-brick building tucked away down a side street and pretty much hidden from view from the main road - Upper Richmond Road - that passes it by. A (closed) flower stall, and a tiny kiosk selling coffee are the only signs of life.

 

I wander up and down the main road, past the very nice looking shops, pubs and coffee houses; the branches of Waitrose and Sainsbury's; and the numerous estate agents, but decide after a short while to head to somewhere a little more off the beaten track - to a monument I've read about which is hidden away up on Putney Heath.

 

***

Putney Heath (actually part of Wimbledon Common - home, of course, to the original Wombles, whose celebrated 'underground overground Wombling free' shenanigans gave me the name of this blog) is mainly tree-covered, although there is a somewhat mysterious village tucked away in the centre of the woodland. This is Putney Village - a community of people over 60 who have decided to combine forces in a sort of self-help network. In my imagination its isolation suggests something vaguely Brigadoon-like, but I'm sure the residents enjoy it here.

 

Down a pathway that runs between the trees, close to the busy Kingston Road that runs past the heath, is a brick and stone obelisk - not especially big, but with much ornate inscription on the four sides of its pedestal.

 

This is the monument I'd read about, and is a memorial to a certain David Hartley (1732-1813).

 

Monument To David Hartley

He was, among other things, the MP who first put forward the case for the abolition of slavery in the House of Commons (that is, he put forward, in the House of Commons, the case for the abolition of slavery. I don't think anyone, even in the 18th Century, would try to claim that MPs were under any form of penurious servitude). He was also the King's representative responsible for dealing with the United States regarding their Independence.

 

However, the monument on Putney Heath (close to where he lived) celebrates one of his later achievements:

 

As inscribed (although very faded now) on one of the faces of the pedestal:



Inscription (Very Faded)

"THE RT. HON. JOHN SAWBRIDGE SQRE

LORD MAYOR OF LONDON

LAID THE FOUNDATION STONE

OF THIS OBELISK

ONE HUNDRED AND TEN YEARS

AFTER THE FIRE OF LONDON

ON THE ANNIVERSARY

OF THAT DREADFUL EVENT

IN MEMORY OF AN INVENTION

FOR SECURING BUILDINGS

AGAINST FIRE."

 

The invention in question was the use of iron plates within the fabric of building structures - preventing fires from spreading. He built an experimental house and offered frequent demonstrations of its efficacy by setting it alight in front of witnesses, including the King and Queen.



Path Through Putney Heath

He was granted a sum of money to continue his experiments - a very generous sounding 'sum not exceeding £2,500'. (Except of course that this typically political bit of linguistic vaguery could mean anything from the maximum sum, down to a mere tuppence ha'penny!)

 

I leave the monument and walk back through the trees, leaving the Heath behind me.

 

***

I've got one last pilgrimage to make while I'm in Putney, although at first glance there's nothing particularly out of the ordinary about the location.

 

In fact, it's this very lack of exceptionality that is the reason for its (mild) fame. Festing Road - and in particular numbers 52 and 54 - will probably be completely unknown to most of you. If however I mention the fictional address it gave rise to - Number 52 Festive Road this may ignite some spark of recognition in some of you - especially if you grew up watching British TV in the 1970s.

'Everything was ordinary...'

 

Mr Benn, he of the dressing-up fetish and magically appearing shop-keeper, was given a house on the fictional version of this Putney street by author David McKee, who lived 'next door' at number 54.

 

For those who remember (and if you don't - Google it) this street is exactly the same as the fictional version - even down to the detail on the bay windows and doorways. In a sense, coming here is like being in one of Mr Benn's adventures myself - I feel like I've stepped through a magical doorway into a cartoon world, where any minute now I'll see a bowler-hatted figure returning home after a hard day's being a Caveman or a Zoo Keeper or a Cowboy...

 

***

'Exodus'

At the end of Festive Road, where it meets the river, is a little park called Leader's Gardens. There's a children's playground and a few benches, and in the middle, one of several sculptures that make up the Putney Sculpture Trail'. This is a collection of nine sculptures, by artist Alan Thornhill, which line the south side of the Thames either side of Putney Bridge. The one here in Leader's Gardens is the westernmost - and is called 'Exodus'.

 

I take a quick stroll down to the waterside and look a short distance eastwards to Putney Bridge, among other things the starting line of the boat race that has taken place between the universities of Oxford and Cambridge for nigh on 200 years.

 

Other than a few sinkings, time off during the two world wars, and one recent disruption by a protestor who swam between the boats, the two universities have battled it out annually here since it's inauguration in 1829. Every Spring the banks of the Thames are packed with spectators and the normal river traffic comes to a halt as the two 'blues' race to the finishing line at Chiswick Bridge.

Putney Bridge

 

There are several rowers out on the river as I watch, but none seem to be exerting themselves overmuch, so I head off on my way north to my next stop - Edgware.

 

*** 

Edgware is one of the two northern termini of the Northern Line and is pretty as close to the perimeter of Greater London as you can get.


Edgware

It's definitely less Yummy Mummy territory and more Yiddishe Mamma, being one of the major Jewish centres of London. Its list of famous residents is also a tad less... highbrow, shall we say... Max Bygraves, Vanessa Feltz and Barry Norman - fine people though they no doubt are - just don't measure up to former Prime Ministers and advisors to Henry VIII.

The main street outside the station (which, other than a sign that for some reason seems to be advertising the late 80s dance music combo S'Express, has little of interest to it) has a Starbucks and a Caffe Nero, but it also has a Poundland and a Cash Converters - which I doubt you'd find frequented by the great and the good of Putney.

This street - Station Road - is, as far as I can tell, pretty much it for Edgware. The Tripadvisor page for Edgware lists only one major 'attraction' - the Mecca Bingo, which isn't really my cup of tea.

I walk up and down the length of Station Road but since I'm not planning on buying or selling any second-hand goods, purchasing budget groceries, or visiting the very cosmopolitan café de la poste (a couple of chairs and tables in the local Post Office) - I decide to move on after a relatively short visit.

***
Now then.

Those of you who've been with me since the beginning of this epic (if pretty nonsensical) journey, may remember that way back on Day One I mentioned the fact that Edgware Road boasts not one but two stations bearing its name. I said back then that I was going to count them as one, for the purposes of this blog, since the point is to explore the area around the stations, rather than just tick them off a list - and the area around two stations on the same road is going to be, well... the same.

So - the labels attached to this post list just one station here - but of course, I'm visiting both of them.

The first is that which serves the Bakerloo Line. It's one of the familiar red-tiled creations of Leslie green, although this one is enhanced by the 'living wall' up its right hand flank.

Edgware Road - Part I: An Unexpected Greenery

The station sits just north of the dominating A40 flyover - the A40 being one of the two main thoroughfares onto London from the West (the other being the A4).

The Edgware Road itself runs from Marble Arch (to the south) all the way up to (not surprisingly) Edgware, and it was built on what was once the original Roman road here - Watling Street. This explains its notable straightness.

Although the larger part of the street is therefore north of my current position, I'm going to explore the stretch heading south towards Hyde Park and Marble Arch. This is partly because there are agood half dozen or so stations along its length - some of which I've already visited - so I shall have other opportunities to explore this road in future visits. Mainly, though, it's because the view north doesn't look particularly interesting.

So, I cross the Marylebone Road under the flyover and take in the second of the two Edgware Road stations before heading further south.

Edgware Road - Part II: The Fellowship Of
The Circle, District And Hammersmith & City Lines

The second station serves the Circle, District and Hammersmith & City Lines, and was originally part of the Metropolitan Railway - the first underground railway in London, and indeed the world.



'Should've brought
a bigger ladder...'

Opposite the station entrance is my second sculpture of the day - this one called (for reasons that should be obvious) "The Window Cleaner". His expression of bemused disbelief is explained by the fact that he is depicted looking up at the huge glass-covered office building next to him - no doubt wondering how he's going to reach the higher windows...
The other notable landmark near this station is one that stands out whichever direction you see it from.

'Wrapper' by Jacqueline Poncelet

It's actually an electricity sub-station, which powers the tube lines, but it has been clad in brightly coloured panels of different patterns - which collectively form an artwork known as "Wrapper", created by Jacqueline Poncelet.

Further south the road becomes more retail based - with a large number of electronic goods shops, mingling with various eateries, banks and the ubiquitous Starbucks and Costa Coffee shops.

It's all very familiar and, I'm afraid, not very exciting.

Still, it's not every day you visit two separate stations with exactly the same name. There has been, over the years, the odd suggestion to change the name of one or other of the stations to make life 'easier' for people. Easier perhaps, but surely less quirky.

And it depends on what your definition of 'easier' actually is of course. My current endeavour would be infinitely easier if not just these two, but every station on the tube map were to be called Edgware Road. Now there's a thought, Boris...