I decided to take the Central Line to its furthest point. On the map it looks east, in reality it is north east. I go to Epping and drift back into the centre. The first surprise is how rural it is once the train moves past Debden. There are fields of corn, the first few have been harvested and bales of straw lie in the fields. Epping is a pretty town and busy with poeple. The last week of the school holidays seems to be the time when kids are with their grandparents. All around are grandparents trying to move their kids away from electronic games and encourage running around.
Epping is busy, there are a few chain stores and lots of small independent shops (particularly gift shops). Houses seem to be almost as expensive as in London and a large house could easily cost you two or three million quid. Admittedly you get a bigger garden but it still seems to be a lot of money. And there are no cheap houses. There are lots of young families and goodness knows how people afford to buy a home. Perhaps that is one of the good things about the Underground, it pulls money out of the City and spreads it around the place.
I move south to Woodford. This is the place of sociology books I read decades ago. Woodford was one of the parts of London where people moved after the Second World War. The East End had been decimated by bombs (and was hardly luxury living). Post war there was a big building boom and people were encouraged to move out to places like Woodford. There were jobs, the underground made it easy to get back into the city. There is a lot of 1930s housing (an earlier building boom), interspersed with 1960s and 1980s housing. South Woodford is more mixed than Epping. There are allotments, heavy with fruit and vegetables. One apple tree has apples the size of grapefruit. The houses and gardens are well cared for, most have at least two cars parked in front. The front gardens often converted to parking spaces, but plenty of crazy paving (the decking of its day) still to be found.
An old university site has been converted to more luxury flats with a view of the north circular (and I assume some solid double glazing to keep the sound out). There are lots of people around, chatting, shopping, meeting for lunch. There are all generations and all races here, it feels buzzy and cheery. (The sun is shining and this always helps, but it feels a friendly place). There are some of the chain stores but also lots of independent shops. Many have their wares displayed on the pavement which adds to the sense of life and cheeriness. People chat and ask questions, it's all very friendly and chatty.
I jump on the tube again to head to Stratford and the Olympic site. I get distracted by a huge cemetery at Leyton (the tube is still above ground at this point) and end up walking from Leyton to Stratford.
Cranes fill the skyline and appear to be building hills - I assume some form of landscaping, can't think of a summer olympic sport that needs hills. Here the area is more mixed and the signs are in many languages. Next to signs in Arabic are those in Polish. It's difficult to get close to the Olympic site, the security is tight. Turnsties are already in place for the current workforce. There are glimpses of the aquatic centre and a large building that appears to be wrapped in white plastic. Further round the spines of the stadium are visible and the athlete's village is being built. It's interesting that much of the infrastructure of transport and security are already in place. But the boundaries are sharp. To my left are potholed streets with houses and flats. To the right smoothed, widened, newly tarmaced roads that will take people into the Olympics. On the left kids are playing football, graffiti is common. On the right there are only the builders, and the plans for the site are written (and pictured) on hoardings. Glossy people in glossy places with shops and restaurants and the perfect people of architect's plans.
The money will make a difference but I wonder if the barriers between rich and poor will remain as strong. I get the sense there will be a lot of gated communities once the Olympics are over. I may be wrong. As ever shopping is central to the plans (and pays for many of the facilities). A Westfield Stratford City is planned with thousands of square feet of shopping opportunities.
Stratford itself seems to be the interchange of the world. People are arriving and leaving, crossings stream with people of every colour, wearing every colour and costume. This is life in the global village. It's not the glossy global village of celebrity and central London. People here are starting out, many are trundling vast cases alongside them. They are changing and beginning new lives. There are many languages spoken and everyone seems to be moving. It is exiciting and dynamic, but it's doesn't quite fit with the images of the architect's plans on the surrounding hoardings.
Thursday, 2 September 2010
Tuesday, 31 August 2010
Monday 29 August - Thames Path
I decided to explore part of the Thames Path. It starts miles away near Lechlade and there is now a path the length of the Thames (184 miles). I take a train to Hampton Court and decide to walk to Richmond. As I find the Thames Path a signpost tells me that it is 29 miles to Tower Bridge; this seems a very long way away. It is early for a bank holiday when I set out and there aren't many people around. Some arriving
for work at Hampton Court, a few runners and dog walkers. There are some fabulous houses - some large, some small but all with gardens that run down to the river and have a jetty.
By 9.30 the cyclists are out. There are bikes and cyclists of all shapes and sizes. It's interesting to see how many families are cycling. Because there are no cars, this is popular for all the family. There are weird and wonderful bikes. Lots of kids have their own bikes but smaller children are stashed in sidecars or seats on the back of bikes. There are a few who seem to sit on the cross bar with feet in what looks like some version of a dustpan. Viewed from the front, the child seems to be sitting
under the protective breast of the parent, like a broody hen with her chicks peering out from under her.
As ever, the world gets going around 11am. At 10.30 there are relatively few people around. By 11 the place is thronging with people. I stop in Kingston for a cup of coffee. It's another town re-developed around the chains. Everything seems perfectly pleasant but the shopping mall looks and feels like every other new mall. High roofs, light and bright. Multifloored with balconies to maximise the light. Everywhere looks like this, and has the same shops. To add to a general sense of confusion I realise that this 'everywhere shopping mall' reminds me of GUM, the department store in Moscow.
The market square is also filled with chain stores but look up and there are plenty of older buildings. Some go back to the 15th century. The shop fronts look pretty much all the same but above them the architecture changes and takes you back through the centuries.There is the usual mix of old and new, but very few independent shops. But it's busy and little sign of recession here.
From Kingston I follow the river north. More cyclists, a few runners but running seems to be an early date and the numbers of runners are falling, just as the numbers of cyclists increase. It's now classic bank holiday mood. There are lots of kids and parents (a few grandparents here and there) and the cycling density increases. This is a non traffic route and so a prime route for parents keen to encourage their kids to cycle. There are varying degrees of enthusiasm from the kids.
The river is as busy as the pathway and with an equal range of people drifting up and down the river. There are gin palaces travelling at speed and smaller boats traveling more slowly. There are rowers, canoeists, and some form of multi-person canoe which looks as if it should be on a Pacific island and not the river Thames. Every couple of minutes someone shouts and they change paddles.
As I get close to Richmond there are more and more people. All keen to make the most of the late summer sunshine. Most are eating and drinking and keeping the economy turning. Little sign of recession here.
for work at Hampton Court, a few runners and dog walkers. There are some fabulous houses - some large, some small but all with gardens that run down to the river and have a jetty.
By 9.30 the cyclists are out. There are bikes and cyclists of all shapes and sizes. It's interesting to see how many families are cycling. Because there are no cars, this is popular for all the family. There are weird and wonderful bikes. Lots of kids have their own bikes but smaller children are stashed in sidecars or seats on the back of bikes. There are a few who seem to sit on the cross bar with feet in what looks like some version of a dustpan. Viewed from the front, the child seems to be sitting
under the protective breast of the parent, like a broody hen with her chicks peering out from under her.
As ever, the world gets going around 11am. At 10.30 there are relatively few people around. By 11 the place is thronging with people. I stop in Kingston for a cup of coffee. It's another town re-developed around the chains. Everything seems perfectly pleasant but the shopping mall looks and feels like every other new mall. High roofs, light and bright. Multifloored with balconies to maximise the light. Everywhere looks like this, and has the same shops. To add to a general sense of confusion I realise that this 'everywhere shopping mall' reminds me of GUM, the department store in Moscow.
The market square is also filled with chain stores but look up and there are plenty of older buildings. Some go back to the 15th century. The shop fronts look pretty much all the same but above them the architecture changes and takes you back through the centuries.There is the usual mix of old and new, but very few independent shops. But it's busy and little sign of recession here.
From Kingston I follow the river north. More cyclists, a few runners but running seems to be an early date and the numbers of runners are falling, just as the numbers of cyclists increase. It's now classic bank holiday mood. There are lots of kids and parents (a few grandparents here and there) and the cycling density increases. This is a non traffic route and so a prime route for parents keen to encourage their kids to cycle. There are varying degrees of enthusiasm from the kids.
The river is as busy as the pathway and with an equal range of people drifting up and down the river. There are gin palaces travelling at speed and smaller boats traveling more slowly. There are rowers, canoeists, and some form of multi-person canoe which looks as if it should be on a Pacific island and not the river Thames. Every couple of minutes someone shouts and they change paddles.
As I get close to Richmond there are more and more people. All keen to make the most of the late summer sunshine. Most are eating and drinking and keeping the economy turning. Little sign of recession here.
Sunday 28 August - Notting Hill
Decide to continue the relatively simple journeys and head off to the Notting Hill Carnival. I haven't been for decades. In the early 80s friends lived on the carnival route and so we could sit in the window and watch the parade go past and look down on the crowds. There are people selling whistles and vuvuzelas.
The carnival seems bigger and more organised now. People used to walk alongside the floats, now they don't. Stewards keep everything and everyone moving constantly. The sound systems are even more powerful and the sensation is less sound than feeling the beat reverberate through every muscle and sinew. Today is the day of the children's parade. The parade at times struggles to get past the photographers who are in front of every costume. There are minders behind each truck, keeping everything moving. A girl who is enjoying having an audience just that little bit too much, is moved on by the minder. She's taking too long, things need to run to time and he encourages her to move on and leave her audience.
Every few streets there are lines of portaloos which seem to be being used as points where people have left their rubbish. There are extraordinary amounts of litter, the detritus of food and drink and it is only just past lunchtime. The longest queues are for cash machines, where dozens snake in line waiting to get some cash. Almost all the shops are boarded up, only a few pubs and coffe shops are open. Paul Smith has at least painted their hoardings and wishes everyone a happy carnival. The others are plain boards, although the graffiti artists have been busy already.
There are thousands of people, in every direction there are people upon people. Police have closed some of the streets, but in between there are masses. Most are young, most are white. The carnival is much bigger than it used to be, but also seems to have become more of a tourist attraction. Everyone wants to take photographs and this holds up the parade. Smoke rises in the streets, meat is being barbecued on every street. Everywhere people are eating and drinking, Red Stripe and jerk chicken, which smells fantastic.
The music is rising, there is more and more dancing in the streets, but then down comes the rain and everyone heads for shelter. The heavens open, the streets are briefly running with water and the doorways fill with people. I am drenched and look like a drowned rat. There are youngsters out with video cameras chatting to people who have come to watch. Around All Saints Road there is a difference in the audience. The posh kids have arrived by tube at Notting Hill and walked north. The local youth have walked south and this is where the two are not really mingling. There is more music and dancing, but also more attitude.
I drift back through Hyde Park, the bass beat echoes in the distance but the Carnival feels like a world away. The park is filled with families feeding the ducks and geese. There are hundreds of adolescent starlings trying to steal bread from everyone and squealing as they go. A brass band are playing show tunes and attracting a small crowd. It's only a mile away but it's another world.
I end up drifting back through the park, followed by a very bold squirrel and walking through Hyde Park Gate - where I lived when I first moved to London in the mid 70s. Then it was possible to live centrally even if you weren't earning much (although you might have to share a room). What used to be cheap rented accommodation has now been fancied up and is evidently a very luxury home. Waiting for a bus home I am tempted into Slightly Foxed, a delightful bookshop where I find a proof copy of J B Priestley's English Journey. It's a tale of his travels around England in 1933. I've been trying to get a copy for months, so this feels like a real find. Home it is, reading about the luxuries of Priestley's motorbus journey to Southampton. He talks of modernity and it's interesting to see that talk of modernity has been around for a long time.
The carnival seems bigger and more organised now. People used to walk alongside the floats, now they don't. Stewards keep everything and everyone moving constantly. The sound systems are even more powerful and the sensation is less sound than feeling the beat reverberate through every muscle and sinew. Today is the day of the children's parade. The parade at times struggles to get past the photographers who are in front of every costume. There are minders behind each truck, keeping everything moving. A girl who is enjoying having an audience just that little bit too much, is moved on by the minder. She's taking too long, things need to run to time and he encourages her to move on and leave her audience.
Every few streets there are lines of portaloos which seem to be being used as points where people have left their rubbish. There are extraordinary amounts of litter, the detritus of food and drink and it is only just past lunchtime. The longest queues are for cash machines, where dozens snake in line waiting to get some cash. Almost all the shops are boarded up, only a few pubs and coffe shops are open. Paul Smith has at least painted their hoardings and wishes everyone a happy carnival. The others are plain boards, although the graffiti artists have been busy already.
There are thousands of people, in every direction there are people upon people. Police have closed some of the streets, but in between there are masses. Most are young, most are white. The carnival is much bigger than it used to be, but also seems to have become more of a tourist attraction. Everyone wants to take photographs and this holds up the parade. Smoke rises in the streets, meat is being barbecued on every street. Everywhere people are eating and drinking, Red Stripe and jerk chicken, which smells fantastic.
The music is rising, there is more and more dancing in the streets, but then down comes the rain and everyone heads for shelter. The heavens open, the streets are briefly running with water and the doorways fill with people. I am drenched and look like a drowned rat. There are youngsters out with video cameras chatting to people who have come to watch. Around All Saints Road there is a difference in the audience. The posh kids have arrived by tube at Notting Hill and walked north. The local youth have walked south and this is where the two are not really mingling. There is more music and dancing, but also more attitude.
I drift back through Hyde Park, the bass beat echoes in the distance but the Carnival feels like a world away. The park is filled with families feeding the ducks and geese. There are hundreds of adolescent starlings trying to steal bread from everyone and squealing as they go. A brass band are playing show tunes and attracting a small crowd. It's only a mile away but it's another world.
I end up drifting back through the park, followed by a very bold squirrel and walking through Hyde Park Gate - where I lived when I first moved to London in the mid 70s. Then it was possible to live centrally even if you weren't earning much (although you might have to share a room). What used to be cheap rented accommodation has now been fancied up and is evidently a very luxury home. Waiting for a bus home I am tempted into Slightly Foxed, a delightful bookshop where I find a proof copy of J B Priestley's English Journey. It's a tale of his travels around England in 1933. I've been trying to get a copy for months, so this feels like a real find. Home it is, reading about the luxuries of Priestley's motorbus journey to Southampton. He talks of modernity and it's interesting to see that talk of modernity has been around for a long time.
Saturday 28 August - Chelsea
I had planned to travel around the country but my car is sitting in a garage somewhere in south London waiting to see if it can be repaired. So my travels plans have changed. My new plan is to travel around London using my Oyster card.
First step of the journey is a trip to the King's Road to check if shoes are comfortable and whether bag is too heavy (and to buy a waterproof jacket, I have a hunch that autumn is about to arrive).
Battersea Park is full of dog walkers and runners. There is a fair degree of chaos as the dogs want to chase each other and risk tripping up the less aware runners. The runners don't seem to notice much around them; most are wearing headphones and a look of concentration mixed with determination. Like the
runners, the dogs come in all shapes and sizes. A very feisty chihuahua, a more laidback dalmation and the usual share of staffies. There is a lot of barking and rushing around, but no real aggression.
There is a farmer's market on the King's Road - a rather more upmarket farmer's market than most. The usual sausage stalls are replaced with on selling oysters. There are only a couple of places selling vegetables and a lot selling cakes. It's slightly more global than most, there are a few relatively local producers. The Rainforest foods are doing a roaring trade (although in truth they are probably more local than many here).
I wander back over the river and drift my way back to Battersea and wonder why I don't explore the area more often.
First step of the journey is a trip to the King's Road to check if shoes are comfortable and whether bag is too heavy (and to buy a waterproof jacket, I have a hunch that autumn is about to arrive).
Battersea Park is full of dog walkers and runners. There is a fair degree of chaos as the dogs want to chase each other and risk tripping up the less aware runners. The runners don't seem to notice much around them; most are wearing headphones and a look of concentration mixed with determination. Like the
runners, the dogs come in all shapes and sizes. A very feisty chihuahua, a more laidback dalmation and the usual share of staffies. There is a lot of barking and rushing around, but no real aggression.
There is a farmer's market on the King's Road - a rather more upmarket farmer's market than most. The usual sausage stalls are replaced with on selling oysters. There are only a couple of places selling vegetables and a lot selling cakes. It's slightly more global than most, there are a few relatively local producers. The Rainforest foods are doing a roaring trade (although in truth they are probably more local than many here).
I wander back over the river and drift my way back to Battersea and wonder why I don't explore the area more often.
At last
I'd been hoping to travel around the country, but my car is broken and so I am travelling around London by public transport. The plan is to head off in a different direction each day ...I seem to be having problems with all forms of technology. Not only is my car not working but I seem to be unable to upload files to my usual 3 wishes blog and so for now will post here
Thursday, 25 February 2010
More resolution
is what is needed from me. It still feels like winter, but the days are getting longer and I hope to start travelling around Britain once more. Just back from doing research in York and once more enthused by the people of Britain. New post is first step,trying to work out how to blog from new phone will be next step
Thursday, 4 February 2010
Slightly late resolutions
Once more I resolve to be a more diligent blogger but the proof will be in the writing. Am still struggling to find the best way to tell the story of my travels around Britain. There are so many different ways of telling the story, I can't decide which way to do it.
Perhaps I need to get to doing some travelling and that might help to inspire me. I shall try to find a day next week when I can spend some time travelling around London
Perhaps I need to get to doing some travelling and that might help to inspire me. I shall try to find a day next week when I can spend some time travelling around London
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