'Running Up That Hill'

Day 36

 

Finchley Road - Finchley Road & Frognal - Finsbury Park - Forest Hill - Fulham Broadway

 

I'm setting myself a bit of a challenge today as I'd like, if possible, to complete the F-section by the end of today. That's five stations, which will pretty much take me full circle around London - heading north-west to the two Finchley Road stations, then north-east for Finsbury Park, south to Forest Hill, and south-west to Fulham Broadway. Coupled with the fact that the weather-forecasters are warning of potential snow, it could be a bit of a tall order - but just about do-able I think.

I start by heading to Finchley Road, on the Jubilee Line heading north out of town.

Ridiculously I'd had a vague notion of easily including the two Finchley Road stations on my travels last week, after visiting Finchley Central. As if a road which has the word Finchley in it is automatically in, or close to, Finchley itself. Because of course, Oxford Street is in Oxford isn't it? And Trafalgar Square is in Cádiz. (Actually, for all I know Cádiz might well have a 'Plaza de Trafalgar'.) D'oh!

Anyway - having realized my idiocy and decided to leave them until today, I begin with Finchley Road.

 



Finchley Road

It sits on the corner of Finchley Road and Canfield Gardens, and looks at first glance like one of Charles Holden's little gems - with that cut-off corner - but it's not listed as one of his so you'll have to form your own opinion.

Finchley Road itself is a very busy three-lane highway and forms a major route to the north of London - passing through St John's Wood, Swiss Cottage and Hampstead.

There's a large shopping-centre to the north of the station called the O2, although this has nothing to do with the mobile phone network. Apparently the name was chosen to reflect the light, airy and spacious nature of the place (O2 is the chemical symbol for the oxygen molecule - geddit?)

 

I have a quick look inside the centre and there's no denying it - it's spacious. Very spacious. This is largely down to the fact that there are hardly any shops in it. I see a Waterstones, a Sainsburys and a few eateries of various kinds on an upper level, but most of the centre is taken up with a huge atrium with a glass ceiling (thus ticking the 'light' box as well) and other than an escalator or two, it's completely empty.

 

Heading south from the station, and turning left just before Swiss Cottage, I find my way onto Maresfield Gardens where, at number 20, Sigmund Freud and his family lived after fleeing the Nazi annexation of Austria in 1938.

 

The Freud Museum

 

Sadly he only survived for one more year however, as he died of cancer in 1939. His daughter Anna lived in the house until her death in 1982, when it was converted into a museum - maintaining his psychoanalytical consulting room with its famous couch, on which so many people discovered their deep-seated neuroses. (What Freud would have made of my own fixation with deep, dark tunnels, who knows...)

 



Freudian Plaques





A couple of blue plaques commemorate Freud and his daughter, but unfortunately that's all I'm going to get to see today, as the museum is closed until this afternoon, by which time I hope to be at least 2 or 3 stations away.

 

So I head on, moving northwards up to the rather oddly named road called "Frognal".

 

Frognal

 

The word means a 'nook' or 'corner' frequented by frogs - presumably, therefore, they must once have populated the area in plague-like numbers to merit having it named after them. The current road forms the western edge of Hampstead Village, and there's one particular house I want to look at - number 99 - which unfortunately means slogging my way up the very steep road pretty much to the top.

 

As I walk up Frognal I notice another blue plaque on a house to my left. I've never heard of Dennis Brain, the horn player, but his name does raise a smile bearing in mind the Freudian proximity (the word 'horn' may have registered subconsciously too I suppose...)

 

Dennis Brain - Horn Player

In fact, it seems every other house in this area has a blue plaque to somebody or other on it. Most of the people celebrated are unknown to me - but I'm encouraged, as the house I'm still climbing towards had a very famous resident, so I should be able to spot it easily enough.

 

99 Frognal - one-time home of Charles de Gaulle

Except of course, with typical British contrariness, the house in which, during the second world war, Charles de Gaulle lived and lead the Free French Army, doesn't get a blue plaque at all. In fact, if you didn't know about it, it would be very easy to pass by this house without ever realising its history.

 

Well, at least he gets something...

 

It does get a plaque - a black one tucked away down the side, almost completely hidden from view behind a tall wall (I had to go halfway up someone's drive to get a decent photo), but this plaque was put up by a local Hampstead group rather than the English Heritage organisation. (I know de Gaulle wasn't English - but the blue plaques celebrate historical English buildings, rather than specifically English people who spent time in them. In fact, the earliest surviving blue plaque commemorates a visit to St James's by Napoleon III - one of de Gaulle's presidential predecessors!)

 

I'd be neglecting my duties as whimsical travel commentator if I didn't point out the fact (almost too much of a coincidence, I'd say) that one of the most famous Frenchmen in history should have lived in an area named after a bunch of frogs.

 

I amuse myself for a few moments by inventing the conversation between the good General and Winston Churchill on the former's arrival in England:

 

"Ah, monsieur Prime Minister! Merci! You are very good to give me an 'ome in your beautiful 'ampstead."

 

"Think nothing of it old haricot, glad to be of help. Now we thought - to make you feel at home - we'd stick you up in "Froggy Corner" - how does that sound?"

 

***

I head back down the hill and out onto the Finchley Road again where I now find myself at the next station on my list - Finchley Road & Frognal.

 

Finchley Road & Frognal

But before catching the train to Highbury and Islington (and thence to Finsbury Park) I pay a brief visit to a neglected little alleyway a few doors down.

 

Billy Fury Way

It glories in the name 'Billy Fury Way' - and is a "tribute" (although a litter-strewn passageway is hardly much of a tribute) to the 1960s pop-star. He recorded at the nearby Decca Studios (where the Beatles once auditioned - only to be given the time-honoured "Don't call us, we'll call you" dismissal) but the studios are also long gone.

 

There is a mural of Billy Fury at the other end of this alleyway, but I can't really see it being worth the walk down this miserable little passage to have a look at, so I make my way back to the Overground station and head on my way to Finsbury Park.

 

***

The tube station at Finsbury Park is right next to the railway station, which - for those interested in such things - featured in the video for 80s pop-star Jim Diamond's number one hit "I Should Have Known Better" (you can see it at about 2 mins 40 if you follow the link to the video).

 

Finsbury Park

Other than this slightly dubious claim to fame, the area outside the station doesn't seem to have much of interest to offer. I do a quick circuit of the surrounding streets before heading off to explore the park from which the area gets its name, but it's the usual fare for the most part - cafés, kebab shops, grocers and so on.

 

Local Heroes?

There are a few sculpted figures outside the station, which turn out to be some of the more notable local figures. Notable, but not necessarily famous - I'd heard of Jazzie B of Soul II Soul fame, but Florence Keen (who founded a health centre in Holloway) and Edith Garrud (Suffragette and Jujutsu instructor) were unknown to me I'm afraid.

 

 

 

It seems an odd collection - were these the only three locals famous enough to be rendered in steel outside the station? Given that only one of the three - Jazzie B - is from Finsbury Park itself (the others were from the wider Islington area) surely they could have included a few other, more well-known, faces?

 



The Park Theatre

Down another back street, Clifton Terrace, there's a relatively new addition to the area, which - since it's a theatre - does at least gladden my actor's heart. The Park Theatre was opened in May 2013 thanks to the efforts of artistic director Jez Bond and a selection of high-profile 'ambassadors' such as Sir Ian McKellen, Celia Imrie, Tamzin Outhwaite, and the late Roger Lloyd Pack. It's a great little place, and well worth the journey out of town to get to it.

 

 

 

 

So - on to the park itself.

 

 

It sits on yet another of London's hills, and with the biting arctic wind blowing in my face today, it's not the most hospitable of places at this time of year. I suppose most parks, unless perhaps they're covered in a white blanket of freshly fallen snow, offer a more pleasant aspect in Summer than in Winter, so I forgive Finsbury Park its bleakness.

 

Finsbury Park

I take a brisk stroll as far as the boating lake in the centre, but since the snow is still, for the time being, holding off, it's not quite picturesque enough to keep me here for long, and I head back to the station.

 

Boating Lake

***

Forest Hill (hmm, I wonder what sort of terrain I might encounter here...?) is on the Overground Line heading south towards Croydon.

 

Forest Hill

As well as several residents at least as well-known as those in Finsbury Park (among others - Timothy Spall, Michael Gambon, Boris Karloff, author Raymond Chandler, and poet Ernest Dowson have all lived here at one time or another) Forest Hill was also the home of a tea-trader called Frederick John Horniman (stop sniggering), who founded and donated to the people of London his Horniman (oh grow up) Museum.

 

The Horniman Museum

Sundial Trail

It's an eclectic collection to say the least, with hundreds of natural history exhibits (a rather gruesome collection of stuffed animal life) and an equally vast collection of musical instruments from around the world. Outside in the gardens, a number of sundials of different types are dotted around.

 



Horniman had inherited his father's tea business, but it was clearly just a means to indulge his love of collecting. Inside, I wander around the various exhibits, and despite not being a huge fan of taxidermy, I do find them interesting.

 

Stuffed Parrots

The star of the show though has to be the walrus at the centre of the Natural History section.

 

I am the Walrus...

The story goes that the museum's taxidermists had never seen a walrus before, so that when they received the unstuffed skin they simply filled it with as much stuffing as it would take. But of course, living walruses are actually a mass of deeply puckered wrinkles, so unfortunately the taxidermist's efforts were somewhat misguided and the final result looks more like an airship with tusks.

 

'Gilded Monster Bass' Tuba

After a quick tour around the musical instrument collection (which includes the biggest tuba I've ever seen, and everything else from ancient African drums, to Fender Stratocasters), I  go outside and take in the gardens, and their view across London.

 

 

 

There are various giant musical instruments (xylophones, pipe organs, etc) for children to make some noise with outside, and the gardens, like Finsbury Park, will, I'm sure, be a very pleasant place to wander around when it isn't bitterly cold - as it is today.

 

View to the city

 

If you get the chance I do heartily recommend a visit. But make sure your thighs are feeling strong enough for the climb up the hill. And go on a warmer day than I did...

 

***

It looks like I might be able to complete the Fs after all. If the journey to Fulham Broadway is without mishap I should be there by about 3.30pm, giving me just enough time to have a look around before heading home before the rush hour.

***
I get to Fulham Broadway only a little behind schedule - at 3.45.

The station spews its passengers out into the heart of a shopping centre which was built on the site of the original tube station - then called Walham Green. (Although this area - which lies on the border of Fulham and Chelsea - is commonly known as Fulham Broadway thanks to the station, it is actually officially still called Walham Green.)

Fulham Broadway

Unlike the O2 Centre up on the Finchley Road, this shopping centre is cram-full of shops. It's true that all they seem to sell is either mobile phones or coffee... but nevertheless the centre is busy enough.

I wander outside the centre onto Fulham Broadway itself, and here I find several upmarket looking pubs, estate agents and restaurants. Up the road is Stamford Bridge - home to Chelsea FC - but you may recall that football does nothing for me, so I happily ignore the stadium as I stroll by.

In fact, I feel quite able to ignore most of what I see. It's pleasant enough - and perhaps the rain that is now falling is affecting my mood - but since I don't particularly want an over-priced coffee or selection of wholefoods, I can't see any reason to linger.

But hey - that's another letter crossed off my list, and we're still in January! Not a bad start to the year!

'Too Long At The Fair'

Day 35

 

Fairlop - Farringdon - Finchley Central

 

Happy New Year!

Although I suppose it's hardly 'new' any more, is it, since it's in its third week, and is already slightly scuffed around the edges and has one or two grubby fingermarks marring its once bright and shiny new surface. Let's just hope we can avoid dropping and breaking it altogether, as I don't think we can take it back and ask for a new one.

 

You'll notice a new look to the blog as well - please let me know whether you think it's better / worse / utterly irrelevant to your existence.

Shockingly, it's been over two months since I last went travelling - and although obviously the festive season took up a lot of my time (I hope yours was as fun as mine), I've also had several minor but irritating bouts of cold to deal with, so it's only today that I've felt fit enough to tackle the first (and very long) journey of the F section.

However, I set out this morning with a pleasurable anticipation (despite the frosty nip in the air) and was rewarded almost immediately by bumping into an old acting friend of mine, whom I haven't seen for some ten years or so (the fact that she now has two kids, one of whom has just turned nine helped us work that bit out!)

Naturally she asked where I was off to, and on hearing the purpose of my journey her face moulded itself into that familiar combination of amused bewilderment and mild apprehension that I've become very used to. People don't know whether to be amused or slightly scared that someone would be deranged enough to set themselves such a ridiculous challenge.

She also asked one question, which perhaps surprisingly, I don't think I've yet been asked by anyone else - 'Where's the most interesting place you've visited?'

I actually feel that question is probably best left to the end (assuming I make it that far), but it did get me thinking. Obviously my adventures in Bounds Green count as 'interesting', but of the places themselves...? I find it difficult to pick just one place out of the many I've visited, because nearly all of them have had odd little things that make them interesting - and it's the 'odd little things' rather than the usual landmarks or tourist attractions that have made this journey such an pleasurable one.

***

So off we go once again...

 



Fairlop - " Doin' the Fairlop Loop... Oy!"



 

I emerge into the bitterly cold East London air at Fairlop, after a long and mainly dull journey on the Central Line. Fairlop is another of those stations on that little loop at the eastern end of the Central Line currently called the Hainault Loop, although before the Central Line joined everything up, the section of the Great Eastern Railway between Woodford and Ilford actually used to be known as the Fairlop Loop.

 

The station stands a little way back from the main road - Forest Road - which stretches out both east and west ahead of me with very little, other than a few scattered houses by the station, to interrupt the view. If only the view were more interesting... It's basically tarmac, pavement and hedgerow as far as the eye can see, especially to the east. To the west, you can just about make out some signs of life, in the distance, and I know from an earlier visit I made to Barkingside, that this is the Fullwell Cross Roundabout.

 

When I visited the roundabout all those letters ago, I mentioned the fact that the oak tree that stands on it, and the pub that stands next to it - both called the New Fairlop Oak - were replacements for the original Fairlop Oak which legend has it gave the place its name.

 

The story goes something like this...

 

When the surrounding area was all fields, forestry and open land, a huge oak dating from "halfway up the Christian era" and therefore over 700 years old, stood somewhere in Hainault Forest. Its trunk was approximately 30 feet around and the midday sun apparently cast a shadow of some 300 feet in circumference - covering about an acre of earth below it.

 

And, not being ones to squander the opportunity provided by this natural marquee, the locals set up an annual summer fair under the tree throughout most of the 1700s.

 

According to one account the name Fairlop comes from a branch which either fell, or was chopped (or 'lopped') off the tree and which was witnessed by Queen Anne, who visited the area in about 1704. This version of events was immortalised in a song, "Come, come my boys":

 

As over Hainault Forest Queen Anne did ride,

She beheld a beautiful oak by her side,

And after viewing it from bottom to top,

She said to her courtiers it was a fair lop.

 

Another story relates to the founder of the summer fair, one Daniel Day, who began the tradition of taking a day off to eat bacon and beans with his chums (in other words a 'bean feast') under the tree, and was gradually joined by more and more people until the gathering grew into the popular summer fair of later years.

 

One day, a branch fell off the tree (spotting the pattern here?) and Day was convinced that it was an omen of his own impending death. He therefore had the branch made into a coffin, and sure enough only a few years later, he died. I know - spooky...

 

The tree eventually blew down in 1820, but its timber was used for many things including, appropriately enough, the pulpit of St Pancras Church - which I visited on my last jaunt, when I went to Euston.

 

Having visited its replacement at Fullwell Cross roundabout last time I was out this way, I decide instead to head East from the station and go to what the internet tells me is the original location of the Fairlop Oak - a golf course cum nature reserve cum boating lake called Fairlop Waters.

 

There doesn't seem to be anything to indicate where the oak stood, and the few hardy souls I see playing golf or jogging round the boating lake in the bitter cold would probably not appreciate being interrupted for information.

 

Fairlop Waters was also once the home to an RAF base and POW camp during WWII, and a monument to the former stands by the car-park and clubhouse. Funnily enough there's no mention of the POW camp.

 

RAF Memorial - Fairlop Waters

 



RAF Memorial



It shouldn't be surprising that the Brits imprisoned German soldiers, in exactly the same way the Germans did ours - but somehow it is. Those, like me, brought up on repeated showings of 'The Great Escape' every bank holiday, have a very clear image of POW camps - and they're most definitely an invention of the nasty Bosch, not the jolly old English, don't you know. They usually involve evil Camp Kommandants with fencing-scars on their cheeks, being thoroughly bested by stiff-upper-lip British Officers - 'Yah-boo, sucks to you Fritzy!'

 

I suspect, however, that knowing the British track record when it comes to dealing with 'dirty foreigners', we were just as cruel and inhumane as the worst of them.

 

I take a little stroll further round the boating lake, but it really is too cold to stay out in the open for too long, so I decide to head on and make my way to Farringdon.

 

Fairlop Waters

***

The tube station at Farringdon (and the National Rail station opposite it) stand - or rather huddle - in the twisting narrow lanes just north of the City Of London. In fact, if your mind can strip away the neon signs and the gaudy window displays, you can just about imagine the sort of streets Charles Dickens used to write about with such relish.

 

Farringdon

 

However, the station's name and location are somewhat misleading. What most people now call Farringdon - being the area immediately around the station - is actually within the Ward of Clerkenwell. And the Farringdon Wards (for there are two of them, to which we will return later) are due south of here within the boundary of the City Of London. All of which signifies nothing except to reinforce how confusing and frustrating it can be to try and  work out where exactly you are in London.

 

The station was also once the terminus of the very first Underground line - the 1863 Metropolitan Railway from Paddington - and the lettering above the entrance still gives its original name of Farringdon & High Holborn.

 

South of the station is Smithfield Market - home of British livestock and meat trading since the 12th Century and original site of the famous Bartholomew Fair, immortalised by Ben Jonson.

 

Smithfield Market

 

The area - an open plain (or "smooth field") - just outside the City walls,  was originally the property of St Bartholomew's Priory (hence the name of the fair - and of St. Bartholomew's Hospital nearby). It's also seen its fair share of slaughter - and not just of livestock.

 

St Bartholomew's - or Bart's - Hospital
The inscription gives the original founding date of 1102.



 

William Wallace plaque

Wat Tyler, leader of the Peasant Revolt against the Poll Tax in 1381 was executed here, as was William Wallace - leader of the Scottish Nationalist Army in the Wars of Independence. Wallace gets a nice little memorial plaque, and I'm intrigued to see not just the obvious tartan and the blue and white of the Scottish Saltire, but also a flag of St George. Is this a sign of solidarity or of one-upmanship I wonder?

 

 

 

Further south, on Holborn Viaduct, I encounter a sign which informs me that I am now officially in Farringdon - or at least, in one of its two wards. I'm in the ward of Farringdon Without.

 

 

Farringdon Without

"Without what?" I hear you ask, and I admit it does sound a little odd, until you realise that they mean 'outside of' (without, as opposed to within). And the thing you are outside of is the original London Wall. The other ward is not surprisingly therefore called Farringdon Within - which must make local election results sound like someone doing the Hokey-Cokey.

 

Having looped southwards this far, and headed back north via Hatton Garden - home of the diamond and jewellery trade since the middle ages, and far too expensive an area for me to hang around in for too long - I make my way back Farringdon Station and catch a train to my final destination of the day - Finchley Central.

 

***

 

Finchley Central is one of those annoying stations in London which, lying between two roads as they do, have an entrance onto both of them, but choose - for reasons best known to themselves - to put the name of the station outside only one of the two entrances. In this case, ironically, the entrance utterly bereft of any name is the one on Station Road - well, it's a station, it's on Station Road, what more do you need...

 

Finchley Central... on this side at least.

 

Having done a quick circuit in order to find a sign I can photograph, I then walk up and down the desperately uninspiring Regents Park Road, with its standard collection of Dominos Pizzas, supermarkets, pubs, Job Centres, and Payday Loan shops, before deciding to head away from the main street in search of some of the more historical attractions of Finchley.

 

Unfortunately Finchley seems to be an almost entirely internet-free zone, and I'm therefore unable at first to load up Google maps to find any of these places.

 

I know that Harry Beck - designer of the now iconic London Tube Map, and thus, in a way, the guy responsible for getting me into this whole tube travelling malarkey in the first place - lived somewhere near here on Courthouse Road, but I'm buggered if I can get my phone to show me where it is.

 

Eventually I end up in a pretty decent coffee shop, which has very nice coffee and more importantly free wi-fi, and work out that Courthouse Road is actually closer to West Finchley station than Finchley Central, so decide to leave that visit till later.

Instead I head south to Avenue House Grounds - a little park surrounding what was once the home of an Ink Manufacturer called Henry Charles 'Inky' Stephens.

 

Avenue House Grounds

The park itself is pleasant enough but what I'm really here to see is a memorial statue of one of Britain's greatest comic talents, and former Finchley resident, Spike Milligan.

 

Spike Milligan



He lived in Holden Road - another location that is actually closer to a W station - Woodside Park - than it is to Finchley Central, but since he was a founding member and supporter of the local Finchley Society, they chose this park to erect a statue in his honour. It's a suitably bizarre piece - with elephant's heads, fairies and miniature renditions of his fellow Goons adorning the bench on which he sits, but most of all I'm struck by the air of wistful sadness in his face.

 

Spike Milligan... again

His battles with depression are well-documented, but I suppose I assumed the artist would have depicted him in one of his 'zany' poses rather than what must have been the more normal reality.

 

Harry Beck Plaque

Finally I head back to the station, and on the southbound platform I notice - beneath a sign for the waiting room and several cobwebs - a dusty plaque commemorating Harry Beck.

 

It seems a sad memorial to someone who effectively revolutionised the idea of maps forever. Imagine a world without the tube map as we know it. Imagine the spaghetti junction of criss-crossed lines. If you have a minute, do a Google search for 'Geographically Accurate Tube Map' - and wonder at the man who could tidy up that mess and produce something so elegant.

 

 

 

 

 

A classic indeed.

 

 

 

 

 

Thanks Harry - you done good.