'Me, Myself And I'

Day 49

 

Ickenham - Imperial Wharf - Island Gardens

 

After taking an absolute age to complete the Hs, today I can rather smugly claim to have crossed two letters off in a single day - the Is (of which there are, admittedly, only three) and the Js (of which there are, well... not a single one in fact, which makes life a bit easier...).

 

It's pouring with rain as I set off this morning - as indeed it has been for most of the summer - so any inclination to linger in the various locales I find myself in today will be minimal.

I start off with Ickenham - a station to the west of London, next to Hillingdon on the Piccadilly Line, and very much still a village separate to the capital.

Ickenham

The station sits on its own, away from the main shopping street, although it does have a theatre as its next door neighbour.

The Compass Theatre (unfortunately closed for refurbishment at the moment) was opened in 1968, in the grounds of the former Ickenham Hall - a Grade II listed building. It's mainly used by youth theatre and amateur dramatic groups - which is how I myself got started, so I always have a bit of a soft-spot for this sort of local theatre.

I huddle under my umbrella as I walk to the High Road, where a small collection of shops awaits me, as well as a bit of a local landmark - the Village Pump.

Ickenham Village Pump

This was erected with money left in the will of a local resident and philanthropist, a Mrs Charlotte Gell. The inscription on the inside of the roof reads:

"ERECTED IN THE YEAR 1866
THIS WELL WAS SUNK AND THE PUMP ERECTED
BY THE EXECUTORS OF THE LATE CHARLOTTE GELL
WIDOW WHO DIED ON THE 14^TH OF NOVEMBER 1863
AFTER A LONG RESIDENCE IN THIS PARISH
MRS GELL BY HER WILL DESIRED THAT THIS PUMP
SHOULD BE DEDICATED TO THE USE OF THEINHABITANTS OF THIS VILLAGE FOREVER"

The pump was restored in 2004, having previously not worked since 1914 - although there's no shortage of water with today's torrential downpour, so I grab a quick photo of it and head back to the station and on to my next destination, Imperial Wharf.

***

Despite perhaps sounding like it should be a stop on the DLR, over by Canary Wharf or Canada Water perhaps, Imperial Wharf is actually on the Overground Line, and is west, not east, in Fulham, right next to Chelsea Harbour.

Imperial Wharf

It shouldn't be surprising - after all, The Thames has been a working river for hundreds of years, and it doesn't all grind to a halt at Canary Wharf. Wherever people settled and worked along its banks, harbours and wharfs (wharves?) were bound to spring up.

And when the dock-yard industry declined in the last century, the developers moved in (much like in the Docklands area of East London) and built lots of tall, gleaming, brand new apartment and office blocks, with cafés and restaurants, hotels, gyms, and no personality whatsoever.

Trendy, yes, but lively? Not so much...

As I wander the ghostly quiet streets, I'm left with the distinct impression that, though the apartments are no doubt worth millions, and furnished to the height of luxury - living here would feel like living in an exquisitely interior designed monastery. And probably a Trappist one at that.

Imperial Wharf 'development'

Even at the riverside Marina there's no sign of life. The Blue Elephant Thai restaurant seems deserted, the boats on the river are still, the towering buildings all around me are quiet as the grave.

Marina and Battersea Railway Bridge

I see one or two people in the local coffee shop, near the station, but that's about it.

What is very much in evidence, however, is the word 'Private' - written on roads, buildings, parking spaces... pretty much any surface you can find. That's alright folks, you're welcome to your privacy - seems to me like you've built yourselves a very nice gilded cage to not spread your wings in...

***

And so on to the final stop of the day. (How nice to be able to say that after only visiting two other stations!)

Island Gardens

This one is in Docklands - south of Canary Wharf and the other Isle of Dogs stations. In fact it's the southernmost station on the Isle of Dogs before the DLR dips briefly under the river to re-emerge in Greenwich.

 

The geography round here can get a bit confusing to say the least. For example - the station known as Island Gardens is next to a park, but this is not the 'Gardens' of the station name. That lies further south, right next to the river. The park next to the station is actually Millwall Park.

 

However, Millwall Park is not in Millwall, which lies next door, further west, on the other side of the East Ferry Road.

 

The area to the east of the East Ferry Road is known as Cubitt Town, after William Cubitt, a former Lord Mayor Of London.

 

And both areas are in the London Borough of Tower Hamlets.

 

Millwall, of course, is also the name of the football club (with its notoriously violent supporters) which was founded here in 1885, but which is now based about 2.5km west of here in South Bermondsey.

 

All clear? Jolly good...

 

The little patch of greenery which is actually known as Island Gardens, sits, as I have said, at the very southern tip of the Isle Of dogs and looks across the river towards Greenwich and the splendour of the Old Royal Naval College - a view which has hardly changed since Canaletto painted it over 250 years ago.

 

A View Of Greenwich...

 

 

Entrance to
Greenwich Foot Tunnel

The park also contains the distinctive domed northern entrance to the Greenwich Foot Tunnel (the southern domed entrance can be seen across the river near the Cutty Sark). Constructed in 1902 to replace the ferry service, it's a cast iron tunnel, 1215 feet long and 50 feet deep.

 

 

 

A similar foot tunnel further east links Woolwich and North Woolwich near City Airport, and both tunnels owe their existence to Will Crooks, an MP from a working class background who campaigned for the tunnels as a means of enabling workers from south of the river to get to their jobs in the docks north of the Thames.

 

Cutty Sark, and Southern Entrance to the Tunnel

I walk eastwards out of the gardens, following the Thames Path along the riverside, until I reach a particular road which, despite the fact that I knew it was here, having discovered it during my pre-womble research, I am nevertheless childishly pleased to find, as it bears my own surname.

 

My spiritual home?

Sadly, there's really nothing whatsoever distinguished about the road - it's just a collection of anonymous, fairly modern, terraced housing. I hadn't expected grand mansions or historically significant architecture - but this really could be any suburban housing estate anywhere.

 

Ah well, it does at least seem appropriate that I should finished the day - and more importantly the letter 'I' - on such a clearly egotistical note...