Perambulations on the Perimeter of .... SE16:A Rock Around the Dock and a Queue for QEII.

I wasn't there to join THE QUEUE. Nor was I there to join the queue to join THE QUEUE and just so as you're absolutely certain I wasn't there to join the queue to join the queue to join THE QUEUE either. I'm no monarchist but even if I was I think waiting for fourteen hours to see a coffin with a flag draped over it would be an incredible waste of time.

But then I might be wrong about that. It is certainly a historical moment and I guess the people in THE QUEUE just want to be part of history. Or, in some cases, be on television and get likes on Instagram. Who knows? There's probably as many reasons for people joining THE QUEUE as there are people in THE QUEUE. THE QUEUE, in case you haven't guessed by now, to see the Queen lying in state.

I'd enjoyed last week's postcode themed perambulation around SE26 and having postponed the next leg of our Thames Path walk due to a train strike (which, owing to the death of the Queen, then didn't happen) I suddenly had another free Saturday so I scheduled in another solo walk and, looking at the map, decided that SE16, Rotherhithe and Bermondsey, would make an interesting one.

I had no idea back then that THE QUEUE would even exist. I certainly wouldn't have expected it to stretch all the way back along the Thames to Southwark Park. Some of those people in it are walking the Thames even slower than us!

For the first time on one of these postcode perambulations I'd taken public transport to get to the start. Just three stops on the Overground from Honor Oak Park to Surrey Quays. On exiting Surrey Quays station, I walked down Hawkstone Road and into the green expanse of the previously underrated Southwark Park.

Autumnal leaves crunched underfoot as I passed the Sports & Athletics Centre and headed to the gallery and duckweed filled lake. I got chatting to a chap from Purley and he'd come up to join THE QUEUE. He seemed a nice fellow so I didn't go into an anti-monarchist rant and instead told him I didn't have the stamina for THE QUEUE and was instead just enjoying a nice walk in a local park.

As we reached the Gomm Road entrance to the park more and more people began rushing past. All in one direction. All heading for THE QUEUE. An electric sign informed them that LYING IN STATE QUEUE WAIT TIME FROM THIS POINT was a MINIMUM of 14 HOURS!

I left the park, very much against the run of human traffic, and continued down Gomm Road and Lower Road back to Surrey Quays station. Stopping to look at a rather surprising Swedish seaman's building. I'd learn later that the Nordic countries hold quite a lot of sway around this area due to the timber that once arrived in the docks from Sweden as well as Norway, Finland, and Russia.

Canada too (Canada Water is just down the road) but that doesn't fit with the story. But my main concern now was food. I'd not had breakfast and wanted a cafe. Once I'd ruled out Vapey Cakes (there's a pet name for the vaper in your life) and bought a Guardian from THE GREETING CARD SHOP I checked the menu of Caffe Pistachio and headed in for some pleasant, if unremarkable, beans on toast and a cup of tea.

From here, I headed back up Lower Road, past the glamorous Osprey Estate (above) and on to Redriff Road. To my north a huge Tesco Extra, an Odeon cinema, and various other concessions like River Island and Sports Direct. In a shelter to the south of the road a ten metre long series of murals that showed just how different this dockland area once used to look.

It's called The Dockers Shelter mural and it shows ships unloading goods, workers unloading timber, people reading about Nazi air raids, and children being evacuated from the area so as not to be killed by them. There's cups of tea, cigarettes, pack horses, and, of couse, a seagull.

Just after the now unused Redriff Road Lifting Bridge (which would be lifted to allow boats to pass between various docks) I took a right into Brunswick Way and headed down to the edge of the impressively large Greenland Dock, the oldest of London's wet docks.

There were once many more docks in this area. Most have been filled in but Greenland Dock, as well as the smaller South Dock nearby, still remain. You can follow a footpath almost all the way around it. So I did.

There are views across to the imposing skyscrapers on the Isle of Dogs, there was a solitary swan on the water, and there is an old Yard Office built in 1902 which, apparently, "nobody is sure what it is used for". Then there's all the roads named for the area's links with the Nordic countries (though later both Jamaica Road and Bombay Street turned up).

Sweden Gate, Norway Gate, Finland Street, Oslo Square, and Bergen Square would all appear over the next mile or so. Not to mention Greenland Dock itself. The architecture around the dock is interesting. It's vaguely maritime but not quite. I couldn't make it out but I quite liked it. Even more I liked the sight of some of the older boats resting on the dock's placid waters.

You can follow Greenland Dock almost all the way to the banks of the Thames. Which I did. But as we'd already covered that stretch of the Thames on a Thames Path walk back in January I decided, instead, to dip inland a little bit and explore that area.

Outside a flat on South Sea Street there was a sign imploring passers by to help themselves to the goods that had been arranged on the flat's stairs. Three pairs of children's shoes (hopefully not 'never worn') and a green frog faced toilet seat cover.

I left them for someone else and headed over a metal and wooden footbridge by Greenland Lock. North of that I cut down a snicket and found myself outside The Ship & Whale pub. I didn't really need a drink but I needed the loo pretty badly so I popped in for a blackcurrant and lemonade and struggled with The Guardian crossword while uploading some of these snaps to Facebook.

By the time I'd supped up the pub was getting quite busy but I wasn't getting waylaid at this point in my walk. Too soon. I carried on along Bonding Yard Walk, Bergen Square, and Norway Gate back on to Redriff Road. From there I turned into Russia Dock Woodland. A long and narrow linear path full of walkways, ponds, and given over, in many places to environmental concerns.

Signs, some hand written by local children, informed me I may see jays, bumblebees, newts, and hedgehogs but all I saw, wildlife wise, were pigeons, magpies, and some camera shy squirrels. It's a lovely area though and it seems remarkable to me that after living in London for twenty-six and half years there are still areas like this, only five miles from my front door, I've yet to discover.

I hope to visit again. I left Russia Dock Woodland on Nelson Walk (an impressive sign informed me) and on to Salter Road which wound round to another small lake. A path to the side of that lake took me past an old pumping station and back to the Thames. I was now in Rotherhithe proper and I had no idea of the nature of a business proudly calling itself Hatching Dragons!

My beans on toast had not been all that filling so I popped in to a little shop and treated myself to some Bobby's Spirals (salt and vineger, naturally) and a Twix (I spent way too long trying to decide between the Twix, the Twirl, and the Flake) and then continued along the riverfront to the Salt Quay pub at the opening of Surrey Water.

It sure looked inviting (and busy) but I knew I wasn't far from The Mayflower and really wanted to make that my first pub stop. So I crossed another of those rust red former lifting bridges, avoiding the temptation to buy any crayfish tails or jellied eels, and at Cumberland Wharf stopped to admire the rather bizarre statues.

Sunbeam Weekly and the Pilgrim's Pocket, by Peter McLean, marks the spot where the Mayflower departed for the New World with 102 passengers in 1620. Puritans who sought to reform and purify the Church of England and, therefore, are responsible for much of America's religious lunacy. They would land in what became Plymouth, Masschusetts and are represented here by a Staffordshire bull terrier, a small boy in a flatcap reading a paper (the Sunbeam Weekly), and the ghost of a Pilgrim father who has in his pocket an A-Z, a lobster claw, a fish, a crucifix, and a totem pole. Both boy and Pilgrim ghost, and possibly even the dog, are believed to be horrified at what they read. A story about what has become of America. And this is long before Trump.

A little further along you come to the Brunel Engine House, now converted into a museum and closed for a private event yesterday. It was built by Marc Isambard Brunel and was part of the infrastructure of the Thames Tunnel which Marc, and his son IKB, built and which opened in 1843.

Just across from that is the very inviting, and very busy, Mayflower pub. I love the place. The inside is full of all manner of knick-knacks (hunting trophies, replica Turners, portraits of admirals, candles, cushions, and signs warning that UNATTENDED CHILDREN WILL BE SOLD TO THE LOCAL WORK HOUSE) and, yesterday, they were playing William Onyeabor's Atomic Bomb which made it even better.

I didn't get to sit inside, or riverside on the docking where if the water gets choppy enough it sloshes up through said decking and sometimes even has to be closed. But I took a seat facing out to Rotherhithe Street and slowly supped a pint while I read the paper and took in the events of a lovely clement day.

On leaving I passed St Mary's Church, through a pedestrian path with flats converted from old docks, and round the top of King's Stairs Gardens. Just by The Angel pub I finally met, again, with THE QUEUE. This wasn't the end of THE QUEUE. THE QUEUE turned away from the river here and back into Southwark Park. THE QUEUE would be with me for a while. Until I turned away from the Thames at least.

The Angel had had the foresight of setting up a takeaway bar. Others were doing business in THE QUEUE too. People were selling coffee, crisps, Maltesers, and even programmes (!) to commemorate the event. The Queen's life presumably at not THE QUEUE itself. I'd never seen anything like it. Except, that is, in Beijing and Hanoi where people queue to see the bodies of long dead unelected leaders like Mao Zedong and Ho Chin Minh.

I had mixed feelings. As I've said many times I'm not a monarchist and I believe it to be a grossly unfair institution built on the back of other people's, and other country's, suffering. Mostly, I had no problem with The Queen but I'm starting to feel very uneasy about the constant pressure from the media to claim we're all in mourning - when many of us are not - at least not for the Queen. 

I have even more issues with those claiming it would be 'political' to mention Prince Andrew paying £12,000,000 (of our money) to stop legal proceedings relating to very strong allegations of sex with a minor and was astonished to hear the same horseshit trotted out last night when on the news it was suggested it would be "political" (that word again) to mention that it may be a bad move to invite Saudi Arabia's Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, a man widely believed to be responsible for the brutal murder of Jamal Khashoggi, to the Queen's funeral tomorrow. To mention those things IS political - but so is to not mention them - and in the latter case, it's not only political, it's plain wrong.

Those very strong caveats aside, THE QUEUE seemed to be very well natured. Nobody was forced to join it and nobody was made to feel bad if they didn't join it. I was particularly touched by one house that had a sign outside inviting people to use the toilet if they needed to. Which many must have done. It was interesting that it was one of the more modest houses along the stretch and not one of the luxury flats that dominate the riverside now.

I turned away from THE QUEUE and went down George Row. Things got much quieter but I was soon greeted by a blue plaque marking the birthplace of Bermondsey boy Tommy Steele. George Row struck me as quite a musical road as there was a block of flats named for The Jam's singer and a primary school that had been founded by Andrew Eldritch and Wayne Hussey. I'm a big fan of The First And Last And Always album so I was pleased to see that.

From George Row, I took Jamaica Road, the busy A200, back eastwards and near St James' Church was tempted in, I did need to charge my phone up, to the inviting Gregorian pub. Lots of people were milling around outside and despite the blackboard outside, and a patchwork thing celebrating QEII's silver jubilee inside, the atmosphere inside was none too reverential as staff and customers joked about THE QUEUE.

They were playing Kraftwerk's The Model and Roses by OutKast and it was a most enjoyable stop. A little bit further down St James's Road, which I took on leaving the pub, there's another pub called St James of Bermondsey. It was full of men watching Tottenham play Leicester (Spurs would go on to win 6-2, a Son hat-trick, leaving Leicester stranded at the foot of the table) and therefore much less inviting. Not least for a solo walker.

As I passed under railway lines, railway lines I must have travelled over thousands of times, I took in a rather strange looking selections of murals which contained such legends as DOCKS DOCKERS, Smell of Christmas Pudding, spokoj, Bermondsey Beach, My mate was an artist, and Mr.Fish!

On the other side of the tracks you're in Bermondsey proper. Many signs point you to a mysterious BLUE MARKET and there are several fast food joints, including - obviously - a branch of Morley's, and a couple more blokey football pubs, The Blue Anchor and The Ancient Foresters. On another railway bridge, quite bizarrely, there is a recipe for borscht and near there, on long thin Almond Road, there is part of what I believe is known as the Bermondsey Beer Mile.

Taproom follows taproom and though some were quiet, others were full of revellers playing table tennis and other silly games, blasting out pretty shit music, and providing entertainment for a group of people in pointy hats who seemed most unlikely to join THE QUEUE at any part of the weekend.

I walked down Almond Road and then, with The Shard on the horizon, I walked back up, under the railway lines again and down Raymouth Road. From there I picked up Rotherhithe New Road and after that I was back on Hawkstone Road. Passing Southwark Park again I saw security guards having a civil exchange with what I assumed to be some protestors and back in Surrey Quays I decided what I wanted to end the walk was one final pint and then some food.

There was a bar called The Yellow House that didn't look very inviting and then there was a Wetherspoons pub. A Wetherspoons pub near Millwall's football ground. Surely that can't be too bad, eh?

I popped in for a look. It was packed so I used the loo, stopping to admire tributes to local heroes Max Bygraves and Malcolm Hardee, and then paced around the area for about twenty minutes trying to find either another pub or a suitable restaurant. Either would do.

Many restaurants were either empty or closed (or take away only) and there were no other nearby pubs. I considered La Chingada Mexican food (I'd have loved tacos or a burrito) but it was absolutely rammed. In the end, I went to Express Fish Bar and had a massive plate of chips with a butty and a can of Coke. Then I walked back to Surrey Quays and took the Overground back to Honor Oak Park.

That was my day of walking done. Not the longest walk (just over 20,000 steps by end of play) but certainly one I'll never forget. When I went to bed in the small hours of this morning I thought about the man from Purley I spoke to in Southwark Park. He'd still be in THE QUEUE for at least a few more hours.