"As I pass a recreation ground I remember my friends, always been found and I can't, I can't help thinking about me" - Can't Help Thinking About Me, David Bowie
1966's Can't Help Thinking About Me was the first single that David Robert Jones released under his new name of David Bowie (credited to David Bowie and the Lower Third) and it was written about his time living in Sydenham - and Sydenham is, more or less, SE26. The postcode in which I was taking the sixth of my postcode related perambulations yesterday.
You'll not be surprised to learn that the song proved something of an earworm and accompanied me for much of my journey. Although Bowie's covers of Cactus and Debaser by Pixies would have been equally apt. I'll explain why later.
I headed out about 11am, picked up a Guardian, a pack of Hula Hoops, and a Fry's peppermint cream chocolate bar, and made my way to the Horniman Triangle on the bottom of Sydenham Hill where, as you reach the top of the steep hill - taking in its commanding views of London, SE23 beceomes SE26.
Turning right at a roundabout atop the hill, the road is still called Sydenham Hill but it's not actually hilly anymore. More a ridge. Paths lead down to Sydenham Hill Wood and Dulwich Woods (explored many times but most recently with Mo and Roxanne on an LbF walk) and while it's mostly council housing on the right hand side of the road, there are some rather grand piles on the left.
There's an old stone marker telling us we are on the edge of the former Borough of Camberwell and a sign informing us we're in an area of 'wonderful wild flowers'. Among them shepherd's purse, common chickweed, dandelions, wall speedwells, stars of Bethlehem, daisies (!), and red deadnettles.
On top of some garages there is what appears to be a viewing platform (though not one with much of a view) and a sign informing passers-by, such as myself, that the lawns of Countisbury House contain a large population of the nationally scarce corky-fruited water-dropwort plant. As well as cuckoo flowers and field wood rushes. It's all part of something called the Southwark Biodiversity Action Plan.
Although SE26 doesn't limit itself to just that one borough. It also spreads out into both Lewisham and Bromley. Just after the Cuddly Bear Day Care Nursery, I caught a surprise glimpse of the Crystal Palace Transmitter. Sydenham Hill is quite a windy road and you seem to get views of the transmitter in places where, sometimes, you least expect. It'd be a presence on the horizon for much of the walk.
Opposite the lovely Dulwich Wood House (far too early for a pub stop) I dipped down Wells Park Road, past a fancy new development, Exeter Place, and then past some woods full of rubbish before turning into Wells Park itself.
Wells Park, or sometimes Sydenham Wells Park, is a pleasant enough spot. It's overshadowed by its near neighbour, Crystal Palace Park, but is a far quieter place. Opened in 1901, it's got playgrounds, playing fields, benches to sit down on and a lake that has no waterfowl but is absolutely full of duckweed. Best of all, Wells Park has lots of nice trees. I particularly liked the weeping willows and the palms.
I came out of the park on Ormanton Road, turned left up Westwood Hill, past the rather spiffing Torrington Court and posters for amapiano nights in Brixton before dipping into Crystal Palace Park. SE26 only encroaches into a small section of the park but that section does include (some of) the lake that I saw Pixies (wth support from Ride, Cud, The Boo Radleys, and The Milltown Brothers) play back in 1991.
They still have gigs there now. The stage is known, for obvious reasons, as the rusty laptop and the lake in front of it has seen revellers at these gigs jump in for a dip. My memory may be tricking me but I seem to remember, back in '91, that someone jumped in during Where Is My Mind? (key lyric:- "way out in the water, see it swimming".
Yesterday, instead of Black Francis, or indeed The Beach Boys who have also played there, the stage was being patrolled by a very confident heron. I liked to imagine he was warming up for a full throated rendition of Wave Of Mutilation or perhaps waiting for some other birds to join him to harmonise on Help Me Rhonda.
I had a quick look at The Maze (but didn't go in in case I got a lost), a fishing lake, a bench dedicated to a dog called Guinness, and some weird fish thing and I was just about to leave the park (for once, without seeing the dinosaurs) when I realised I was desperate for the toilet. A number two as well.
I didn't know how far it'd be until I reached another loo but I knew there were some if I headed to the other side of the park. So I did. I could hear bashment blasting out in the distance but in front of me a large crowd of families with small children had gathered. I tried not to giggle at the unfortunately named MISTER CREAMY ice cream van and headed over to have a look.
People in tricaretops and t-rex outfits were amusing the children and I can imagine if you're a young kid into dinosaurs, and most are - let's face it, this must be an amazing day out. As I headed over to the toilet, an announcer was asking kids if they wanted to "boogie with a brontosaurus" or "tango with a t-rex".
It gave me something to think about whilst defecating. Disco dance with a diplodocus? Sashay with a stegosaurus? Vogue with a velociraptor? We could be here all day. But I couldn't. I'd only had crisps and a chocolate bar all day and I needed food.
As I headed up Sydenham Avenue and Lawrie Park Avenue (council houses one side, Tudorbethan mansions with black German automobiles parked outside them the other side) it started to drizzle. It was definitely time for a pit stop.
After a quick look at the imposing St Bartholomew's church and the architecturally pleasing (vaguely Art Deco but also rather vernacular and functional) Kirkdale Court, I weighed up the options. The Greyhound pub looked inviting (but I didn't want pub grub) and Cobb's Corner looked delightful (but a bit too fancy for my needs) but Dilz Cafe looked just right and once I' had a quick look at a rather lovely little bookshop and a bizarre shop full of trophies which they'll engrave for you I popped in.
The cheese omelette was one of the best I've ever had, the chips were delicious, and the crusty bread that came with it was light and properly buttered. I washed it down with a very nice cup of tea and read a bit of that day's paper. The first twenty-five pages of the paper, The Guardian, were devoted to the Queen's death and the new King Charles III and if that wasn't enough there was also a forty page supplement.
On top of that the television was blasting out sombre news about it as well. Other than that, though, people seemed to be pretty much getting on with their lives. They were talking loudly to be heard over the television and each other and there was even some music coming from somewhere. None of it seemed disrespectful and at times like this I do wonder why, for example, Six Music take the likes of Huey and Craig Charles off the air and fill their schedules with what they perceive as more fitting music. Did The Queen ever listen to Six Music? Does she prefer mandatory sad music to soul and funk? I guess we'll never know but competitive grieving can become tiresome quite quickly.
Once I'd eaten, and failed miserably on the crossword, I continued down Kirkdale (pretty much Sydenham's high street) until I saw two pubs. The Dolphin looked like it had the edge over The Golden Lion on the other side of the road so I went in for a pint of Camden Hell's Lager. The barmaid who poured it was being instructed by a more senior member of staff and once it was presented to me they were pleased to tell me it was the first pint she'd ever poured.
I should have joked it was the first pint I'd ever drunk but that wouldn't have quite been true. I took said pint out to a surprisingly decent beer garden and charged my phone up and read the paper as I slowly sipped it. These are the parts of the solo walks when I most wish my friends were here. I can't help thinking about them but, as befits the theme of the walk, I can't help thinking about me - and where my life is going.
As I popped in the loo for a wee before leaving, I noticed The Dolphin's toilet artwork was rather strange. A painting on the tiled wall of an actual toilet!
Further on down Kirkdale there's what appears to be a home, or several homes, converted from a church. It's impressive. I'm not quite sure what goes on in The Poodle Club but elsewhere there are food outlets from all over the world and a few nail bars. The Wesley Hall Methodist Church and the former home, Tudor styled naturally, of music writer George Grove seem to belong in another era.
It's one of the things I love about London. How the old, so often with ease, rubs shoulders with the new. How the poor live side by side with the rich (though something more should be done to close the gap between those groups) and how people from different communities live next door to each other. It's not the same everywhere and though London, especially in recent decades, is becoming more and more of a rich man's playground it is in slightly more suburban areas like Sydenham where this is best observed. The centre of London in danger of being hollowed out as more and more luxury flats are built and left empty by rich owners who see them purely in terms of investments and not as homes at all.
As Kirkdale turns into Sydenham Road there's a dusty looking, careworn, little library and behind it a little green space called Home Park. The sign at its entrance, rather grandly, pronounces it to be ' Sydenham's Literary Piazza' but all I saw were a couple of lads kicking a football around it. Must be something to do with the library.
As the road becomes busier, ultimately merging with other A roads and soon filling with impatient motorists, you have to negotiate a fairly confusing run of pedestrian crossings and the pubs that flank this area, The Bell and The Railway Tavern, didn't look very inviting.
So I didn't go in. I crossed under the railway lines (between Lower Sydenham and Catford Bridge stations) in the hope of having a look at nearby Southend Park. It looked, on the map, as if it could possibly be accessed from the A2218, Southend Lane, but when I got there there was just a tyre fitting centre and a fairly standard parade of shops.
I gave up, turned back, and took a right into Moremead Road to pick up the linear park that follows the route of the Pool river before it flows into the Ravensbourne. I only followed it briefly before coming off round the back of an enormous branch of Sainsbury's (now with Argos). The Bell Green Sainsbury's, as it is known, is also accompanied by a Carphone Warehouse, a Next, an ALDI, and a Pets At Home.
It's how many people spend their Saturdays and I can't knock them for it. I spend them walking mostly (this was the third Saturday walk in a row and though I enjoyed it, it paled a bit after last weekend's Liphook to Petersfield jaunt and it paled a lot in comparison to the stroll from Llandudno to Conwy a fortnight back).
That Welsh walk may have seen seals and goats but it did not see a rotating cast of dozens of small birds having fun in an improvised birdbath on top of the roof of small branch of Timpson's. I watched for quite a long time and was even worried, though not that worried, I might look a weirdo for taking a photo. Then someone else came and took a snap. It really was quite a joyful sight.
I took Perry Rise and De Frene Road up to Mayow Park where I had a nice sit down and then continued, out of SE26 and back in to SE23, to Forest Hill where I stopped for a second pint at The Sylvan Post. Another pub full of memories for me. I remember visiting in the nineties when it was still a post office and in the last ten years with Michelle, Shep, Simon, and, most of all, Douglas who is no longer with us, having passed away a fortnight ago.
As these perambulations get less local, the memories will, perhaps, be less keenly felt and, in some cases, less painful. But, for now, SE26 is an area that includes parts I've never once visited before but also includes stretches that are so rich in memory for me that I can't help thinking about those memories - and, of course, when I think of those memories I can't help thinking about me.
"Girl calls my name, "hi Dave, drop in, see around, come back if you're this way again". Oh, I'm on my own. I've got a long way to go. I hope I make it on my own. I can't help thinking about me"
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