Perambulations on the Perimeter of .... SE13:Quaffing Near The Quaggy.

Saturday's twelfth walk of my Perambulations on the Perimeter series didn't go exactly as intended but that's not, not entirely, a bad thing. I'd have liked to have walked further than I actually did (was aiming for at least 20,000 steps and had to settle for 17,624 meaning September was the first month of 2023 in which my average steppage fell below 10,000 a day (9,789) but the reason(s) the walk was shorter than planned were actually rather pleasant.

 

Which we'll come to. I got a few extra steps in before the start of the walk when I had to visit the local chemist and pick up my blood pressure pills (for some reason the NHS website has rejected me from collecting my gout pills, "computer says no", so that's something I'm gonna have to look into). That involved a walk down to Peckham Rye before cutting through Nunhead and Brockley and making my way, via a lovely colourful house, some pretty autumn flowers, and a well designed anti-fascist sticker, along Ladywell Road.

Coming the other way I spotted someone wearing a Sonic Youth Daydream Nation t-shirt. I soon realised it was Scott, one of the head honchos of the London Fortean Society and a jolly nice chap to boot. We had a brief chat, he was off to buy paint, and I mentioned that I'd be ending up, in a few hours, in the nearby Ladywell Tavern and perhaps we could meet for a beer. Numbers exchanged I continued on my merry way. It was a nice day. I was feeling good. I stopped and bought a black biro.

 

I entered Ladywell Fields in bright sunshine, not bad for the last day of September. I'd planned the Good Hope Cafe for a brunch stop. I'd walked past it many times but never bought anything. But first I needed the loo. Both a 1 and a 2.

That didn't seem like it'd be a problem as the toilet block is right next to the cafe. Number one was easily dealt with but number two? Not so straightforward. There were two cubicles. One had no bogroll whatsoever and the other one was being used. A father and his young son, door wide open, were having a bit of an episode. "Wipe my bum, daddy" the young lad demanded time and again. It didn't look like they'd be finished anytime soon. Maybe best to eat first and try again after.

I had a lovely two cheese toastie washed down with a can of 7-Up and they even threw a few (slightly dry, no dips) nachos in the box with them. I read the Saturday Guardian and it felt nice to be sat in the sunshine, eating tasty and comforting food, while people walked their dogs, played with their kids, rode their bikes, and idled away a pleasant Saturday lunchtime.

On returning to the toilet it seemed that now both of the cubicles were toilet paper free. Oh well, on with the walk again. I crossed the green expanse of Ladywell Fields as football games and tennis matches played out around me. Crossing over the Ravensbourne river, I came out on Albacore Crescent where the Ransom Church of God were having a bit of a party, and from there turned into Medusa Road, Blagdon, Road, and Hawstead Road.

Finally on to Rushey Green, Catford which is, strictly speaking, in SE6 not SE13. There was, however, a reason for this breach of protocol and it was toilet related. Wetherspoons may have a lot of problems but their toilets, although hardly palatial, are not one. The pubs are normally so big, and the staff so demotivated, you can pop in and use the loo and don't even have to buy a drink.

Which I did. In truth, the Catford Wetherspoons, the London & Rye, is surprisingly pleasant with some nice outdoor seating and an information board about local boy Tommy Steele. I still wasn't tempted by a drink though. Not there and not yet. That would change soon enough.

 

Ringstead Road took me past a building that looked like it must once have been a pub and into Mountsfield Park. I climbed a flight of stairs and was met with a green expanse. There was only one other person in this part of the park but as I climbed up to the bandstand and the playground the park became quite busy. Lots of people making the most of an unseasonably sunny day - and why not?

 

From Mountsfield Park, I passed through some suburban residential streets and made my way down to Hither Green (via a subway under the railway line). My friend Richard lives in Hither Green and I knew he was a big fan of the pub I was planning to stop at - The Dacre Arms - so I gave him a shout and we arranged to meet there at 3pm. That was about an hour away and I was making good time so I was able to slow down a bit and take things in.

Hither Green's nice. There's a thing called The Ark, a community project, that's been set up for people to sit in the sun (or shelter from the rain) and there's some new flats converted from an old biscuit factory. Chiltonian Biscuits who made lemon puffs, garibaldies, and provided biscuits for soldiers during World War I.

 

 

 

 

From Hither Green, I crossed (not for the last time that day) the Quaggy river - a tribute of the Ravensbourne which is, of course, a tributary of the Thames - and made my way into the pleasant, and bustling, Manor House Gardens. I watched a cute dog preparing, very diligently if with no chance of success, to launch an attack on an innocent grey squirrel and I wandered around the picturesque lake before heading uphill and taking a seat outside this park's little cafe, Pistachios in the Park!

I very nearly had an ice cream but decided against it so instead I read more of the paper and then left the park and made my way through Lee and into what's just about classed as Blackheath - and into The Dacre Arms. I'd arrived before Richard but he was only five minutes behind me and, as I'd remembered he had a preference for such, we sat indoors on a sunny day. Something Richard had once described to me as feeling like a "decadent" thing to do.

It was a bloody good catch up and it went beyond a two, or even three, pint mistake. He put back four pints of Harvey's Sussex Best and I put four lagers back as we put the world to right. We discussed morris dancing (Richard is the squire of Blackheath Morris), The Fall (of course), suicide (we've both lost several friends and acquaintances to it), families, school reunions (neither of us planning to attend our upcoming ones), politics (Richard's view was that Ed Davey is "a cunt", I didn't agree with that but we've both - like all sane people - had enough of the Tories), and all manner of assorted nonsense. With Richard, you get entertained and educated at the same time - and, it turns out, sometimes a little bit tipsy!

Richard shot off home to make the dinner for his wife and kids (after four pints I'd have messed that up) and I continued down Lee High Road into Lewisham proper, the heart of SE13. A place that I can sometimes find inspiring and a place I can sometimes find depressing. I was kind of on middle ground on Saturday. I passed the Darjeeling Indian restaurant (which I know to be a favourite of Richard and his family) and I decided to swerve Hilly Fields (been a lot of times before and it was getting dark) and slowly make my way to the Ladywell Tavern where I'd arranged to meet, again, with Scott at 7pm. This walk was becoming more of a pub crawl.

 

I passed Something Fishy, the Lewisham Clock Tower (completed in 1900 to celebrate Queen Victoria's diamond jubilee, St Saviour's church with its impressive tower, the luxury flats where the dirty old swimming pool used to be (and I used to go swimming), the Fox & Firkin pub (surely one of the few remaining Firkin pubs), and, outside the shopping centre, a homeless guy showed me his colostomy bag, talked about how nobody cared about him, and talked about killing himself by jumping off of London Bridge before asking me for money I didn't have. I hope he's okay.

I turned back in to Ladywell Road. Only making a brief stop to take photos of the long derelict former swimming baths (another one - this one's all towers and turrets which was used during World War II to look out for Nazi bombers arriving in London and will, soon - eventually, be converted into flats - of course), I continued on to the Ladywell Tavern, grabbed a pint and waited for Scott.

He soon joined me and we had a most convivial pint or three as we discussed our different paths into the worlds of Forteana and Skepticism. As well as, of course, music. Scott's only a couple of years younger than me and we'd long established we'd almost definitely been at a lot of the same gigs down the years. Be they in London or at the West End Centre in Aldershot or Reading's After Dark club. A legendary Primal Scream gig at Aldershot (in which I was pushed on to the stage and cut my hand on broken glass, now believed to have been thrown by another friend I'd not yet met - Justin) was mentioned and not for the first time. We finished up, I took the P4 bus home and fell asleep watching Match Of The Day.

I regret not getting photos with either Scott or Richard as it probably sounds like I've made up two imaginary friends to cover up for a solo drinking session but they do exist and they are real. As was my walk. It was a real walk - and SE13 is nothing if not real. SE25 next time. That's the plan.