Perambulations on the Perimeter of .... SE15:The Ballard Berkeley Of Peckham Rye.

The second walk of my solo Perambulations on the Perimeter series, around the edges of SE15, may not have been that major a walk (though 25,688 steps in a day's not too shabby) but I thought I'd still nick the name of the man who played The Major in Fawlty Towers and mix it with the Muriel Spark novel as it mildly amused me - and the way I've been walking lately, following a bout of gout, has something of the doddery old codger about it.

The struggles were never as real as last Saturday's Capital Ring walk from Richmond to Greenford but, nonetheless, there were times I wasn't as comfortable on my feet as I'd have liked to have been (there's improvement to be done before TADS hit the Wye Valley next weekend) which was, to be fair, the only minor concern during what turned out to be a rather pleasant afternoon and early evening's walk.

Much like my previous perambulation around SE23 this walk took in very familiar, close to home, sights but also took me out of my comfort zone and into parks, roads, and whole areas I'd, remarkably, never visited before. SE15 is more urban and more central than SE23 so, along with the parks and views, there were tower blocks, traffic, and, best of all, a highly photogenic gasholder but, before any of these things, my first priority was food and though the Parkside Cafe, strictly speaking, is in SE22 it was on my route and they do cheese omelette and chips exactly the way I like it.

Of course I had bread and butter, tea, and a can of Cherry Coke with it and enjoyed the friendly atmosphere of one of my all time favourite greasy spoon restaurants. After lockdown it'd be hard to say my eyes are bigger than my belly but I left a few chips just so I didn't feel too bloated during the walk. Which immediately took me in to Peckham Rye Park, a place I've known for decades but have started to know almost religiously during these last few months of not leaving London, barely taking public transport.

It's just as well it's a rather beautiful spot. Spacious too. I've been having ice creams and even the odd pint in there these last few months as well as reading, sunbathing, exercising, and taking phone calls. I've also been regularly checking up on the coots, moorhens, and pigeons in and around the lake. Occasionally they've been joined by large fish and even the odd rat but the waterfowl and pigeons had the area to themselves yesterday.

I took in the American Garden, the Sexby Garden, the bowling green that looks like it hasn't seen action in years, and the Japanese Garden with its large barnlike shelter, a cooling spot on a sunny day which yesterday would, on occasions, be. Peckham Rye Park opens up on to the wide expanse of Peckham Rye Common where people barbecue, play rugby, play Aussie rules football, and even play music. It's a relaxing spot and I relax there often but this was a walk so I cut a diagonal line through it and made my way to the William Blake and Gustav Klimt inspired totem pole (unlike the one in SE23, almost definitely not made by a Tlingit Alaskan) and headed down East Dulwich Road to Goose Green, a green space where an off duty policeman once questioned me about my resemblance to a Bulgarian beggar who'd been hassling people outside ATMs in East Dulwich.

I passed the dangerous 24/7 off-license (if I'm going in there it's probably not a good sign), the far healthier Balfe's Bike shop where I bought a bike and go to have its tyres pumped up, and the sight of the now gone Flying Pig pub before looking across to the former entrance of the Dulwich Public Baths. One I used to use but has now been replaced by a more modern, less Victorian, affair on nearby Crystal Palace Road.

Crossing Goose Green I noticed, not for the first or last time during the walk, of how many leaves had been blown out of the trees during recent windy weather. The autumnal look belied the sunshine I was feeling on my face.

On Oglander Road I passed the former Oglander pub (now, of course, flats) which used to host reggae nights until 5am. Me and my friend Justin (who, sadly, I've not seen for over six years now) once attended and it got pretty blurry towards the end.

Oglander Road leads into Maxted Road which leads into Bellenden Road (yes, everybody has a laugh when they first see it but us locals have become inured to it by now) where there are, roadside, black and white photos of historical happenings in the area including one of the former Oglander pub in its pomp.

Bellenden Road is a lively little area. The Victoria pub is great, The nearby Albert exists very much in its shadow, Codfellas does chips as well as it does puns, and The Begging Bowl serves tasty and slightly offbeat Thai food. I've only had the pleasure once, some time ago with another friend I've not seen for the best part of a lustrum - Tamsie, and I'd like to go back one day.

Still full from my chips and omelette, today was not the day so I passed a bit of street art inspired by Jacob van Ruisdael and John Constable's windmill paintings and made by Rochdale's Walter Kershaw. This took me up to another great eatery that I've not visited nearly enough times - the South Indian Ganapati.

If I go again I won't have the drumstick though. I didn't get on with that. At Ganapati I turned off Bellenden Road and, via Holly Grove, made my way to Warwick Gardens, a small park fenced in the middle presumably to keep one side free of dogs. The sun was properly out now but with a gentle breeze it felt absolutely lovely. I decided to have a lie down and I nearly fell asleep. Instead my mind drifted and I thought of all the good things in life. I felt very happy.

So much so I even took a selfie. I'm not scrubbing up too badly for my age (52 on Friday) all things considered. I don't expect other people to agree but I have to like myself at least a bit. It's not like I can escape myself. No matter how many of these walks I take.

Dipping briefly into SE5, I strolled proudly along the tree lined Talfourd Road and when I saw oleanders growing in someone's garden My Old School by Steely Dan instantly become my earworm until at least the first pit stop of my tour which was still the best part of an hour away.

Talfourd Road brought me out on to Peckham Road, the stretch that links Peckham and Camberwell and the Oliver Goldsmith Primary School, the South London Gallery (or part of it), the Peckham Pelican (closed but hopefully just temporarily, it's a good place), and Kennedy's Sausages (closed for as long as I can remember).

A quick right and a quick left had me on Southampton Way before taking a right into Charles Coveney Road, a pleasant housing estate, and the massive and fun looking slide in the none too green Central Venture Park. Large concrete pillars demarcated the space but I am as wise to as why as to who Charles Coveney is. Even the Internet, it seems, can't help me.

Calypso Crescent was a name to conjure with but, for the most part, this was a pleasant and unremarkable stretch. That all changed when I reached the formidable Burgess Park. The overwhelming majority of which is in SE5 but whose walls form much of the SE15/SE5 line so I felt justified in including it in my walk.

Burgess Park, less so than Dulwich or Peckham Rye, proved a good friend during lockdown too and so it did yesterday. I entered by a boarded up bridge that would once have carried pedestrians over a canal but now goes over another path. A small group of Latin Americans, possibly Ecuadorean - there's a large Ecuadorean community in the area, were playing quoits, drinking Fosters, and setting up a kid's birthday party. Nearby there were running races, a man shouting into a mic about "Nigerian soup", and some Egyptian geese half-heartedly escaping the attention of a curious hound.

I wandered down to the lake and got in among those geese and the other waterfowl that share the lake with a large array of fish. At least if the fishermen who line its bank are anything to go by. At this point I experienced a little rain, the only drizzle of the day, but this was no problem as there's a fairly dense wooded area on a bank by the lake which I passed through. Stopping to take in Sally Hogarth's Silent Raid sculptures, models of houses which once stood here before World War I bombing destroyed them. When the bomb damage was cleared up they built Burgess Park and named it after Jessie Burgess, Camberwell's first female mayor.

Towards the Old Kent Road end of the park younger Latinos had gathered to guzzle San Miguel and listen to Spanish language hip-hop and, of course, further waterfowl only added to the gaiety. The juxtaposition between the relaxed vibe of Burgess Park and the hustle, bustle, and traffic of Old Kent Road was marked but my most pressing concern at this juncture was that I needed the toilet - and a number two as well. I hadn't done a poo out since March and was understandably apprehensive about how this could happen.

I think the giant Tesco on Old Kent Road has a toilet but I felt confident I'd find somewhere better. Once I'd passed the fire station (which I seem to recall has some link to David Bowie but could not find out what it was) I reached The Lord Nelson pub. A grotty and unfriendly looking place (there's often a sign outside telling people that toilets are for customers only) I had no intention of using for either a drink or a plop.

Just before Asda, on Ossory Road, I saw a sign to The Paperworks. The promise of food, drink, music, and, surely, a toilet. Once I'd been through the necessary rigmarole to sign myself in and ordered a plastic pint pot of Estrella the music lived up to expectations. The Upsetters and Eek-a-Mouse and with the sun out and the beer cold all felt well with the world.

I read the obituary of the fantastic Venezuelan artist Luchita Hurtado (99, a good innings), had a look at the crossword, supped up, and then dropped the kids off at the pool in a portaloo far cleaner than any I've ever seen at a music festival.

I felt a couple of pounds lighter as I continued down Old Kent Road past Wazobia (a Nigerian restaurant), the spectacular gasholder number thirteen, and churches of so many different denominations and boasting so much bunkum that it starts to get amusing. If God is smiling on the people who go to these churches it's not converting into either money or decor.

It was a fairly decent stretch before I took a left into Ilderton Road. Passing tower blocks, yards full of tyres, and clutch and exhaust garages it was not the most auspicious part of the walk and when I turned down Surrey Canal Road the pavement was so full of abandoned car tyres and overgrown shrubbery it felt like nobody else had walked down it for months.

Maybe they hadn't. But so near to The Den (previously The New Den), Millwall's ground, that seemed unlikely. Passing under the Overground line as it wends between Surrey Quays and Queen's Road Peckham I turned back south and soon found myself climbing a short and steep incline into Bridgehouse Meadows. A green space with nothing but green and space in it and one I'd never been to before. With better parks nearby, its main selling point is probably its impressive views in all directions. To The Shard, Crystal Palace Tower, to the City, and to Docklands.

Passing along some quiet side streets I soon found myself on Avonley Road which, near The Montague Arms, reaches the Old Kent Road just as it changes its name to New Cross Road. I've never been in The Montague Arms (at least I can't remember doing so) but it's quite a legendary joint and my friends Mark and Natalie would regale me of tales of the old regulars wheezing through karaoke versions of Elvis songs interspersed with regular puffs on asthma inhalers. It looks to me like the pub, sadly, is no more. It's all boarded up and there's weird portraits of bumfaced, treble chinned people on the blacked out windows.

I was on the home stretch now and quite fancied one more drink before I got back into overly familiar territory. Kender Road, Queen's Road, Lausanne Road, and Mona Road took me to The Telegraph at the Earl of Derby. A pub I'd visited once, many years ago, with my friends Dan and Gareth and one that was almost completely empty. I signed in, bought a pint of Litovel, and sat in a large and empty back room nursing it and listening to Lou Reed's I'm So Free. My only company was my Guardian and a large, and highly distracting, map of the fascinating and fantastic world we all live in. I mapped out the furthest points I'd visited. Peru, Vietnam, the Philippines, Brazil, Washington state. All of them seem as realistic destinations as Venus or Middle Earth right now.

On leaving the pub I passed down to Nunhead and near to the place where my friend Virginie used to live. Black Lives Matter banners and placards had accompanied me from windows as surely as NHS rainbows had all day so I felt I needed to capture one for posterity. Not everyone's on the same page though. Along the lovely Ivydale Road, and not far after the tempting looking Waverley Arms - another day maybe, a DANGER OF DEATH sign had been 'decorated' with swastikas and SS graffiti.

FFS! For a more mindful assessment of death I could have visited nearby Nunhead Cemetery but I was running too late and, anyway, there's always my blog about their open day in 2016 or the one about a walk I did round there last year for those that want to read more.

Instead I followed Ivydale Road until it became Athenlay Road, walked (as so many times before) through Brenchley Gardens, popped into Jonathan's for some supplies, and headed home. Weary but pleased. By the time I got in my phone was down to 3% but luckily I still had some energy left in my tank and that's just as well because on Saturday it's the return of TADS and that two day walk in the Wye Valley (leaving England for the first time in TADS history) will probably be a little more challenging - and a lot less urban. SE15, however, was good to me. It always has been.