I'd been pondering what to call today's (my thirteenth) 'perambulations on the perimeter of' walk. As it was SE25 and SE25 includes Crystal Palace's ground, Selhurst Park, I was riffing on a theme based around the words 'eagle' and 'eagles' (the club's nickname) and the song 'Glad All Over' (the club's anthem). Nothing seemed to quite fit. But then, walking along a road called The Crescent - just a few hundred metres away from Selhurst Park, it came to me.
The actress Pauline Quirke (perhaps best known for her role as Sharon in the rather uninspiring sitcom Birds of a Feather) has been something of a running joke between me and my friend Rob ever since Charlie Brooker obliquely referenced her in a very funny column he wrote. The gist of which was about phoning in sick for work. Brooker suggesting that (a) you tell them you have something they won't ask about - diarrhoea (b) you go into too much detail - say you shat yourself on the bus (and c) add a random detail, his idea was to say the actress Pauline Quirke was sat behind you on the bus.
Now Quirke's a Hackney girl but the Pauline Quirke Academy, an institution that just twelve hours ago I was unaware of, have an outpost in Selhurst - SE25. It's not the only one either. There are over two hundred of them spread across various UK locations. As Dave Brock and Robert Calvert might have had it, Quirke, Strangeness and Charm.
It even meant that, following last September's Quaffing on the Quaggy walk - SE13, it was my second 'perambulations' walk to have a subtitle beginning with Q. It's the little things, sometimes. I'd headed out reasonably early, hopped on a train from Honor Oak Park to Norwood Junction and proceeded to try and buy a copy of The Guardian so I could read it while eating my brunch in The Brown & Green Cafe.
Said paper, or - in fact - any paper, proved elusive. Obviously the Cherry Tree and Albion pubs wouldn't have one (but I took a photo anyway as they are pubs I'd been in before Palace games with, if I remember rightly, Toby and Owen) but surely Nisa Local would? No. Norwood News sounded promising but no dice there either. Star News has a fancy 'a' in a star and even says, on its frontage, that it's a NEWSAGENT. Which was a lie. They didn't stock one single newspaper. Not even The Sun despite having a sign outside expressly saying they sold it. Not something to boast about even if it was true.
In the end, Tesco Express came up with the goods though I was shocked to see the Saturday Guardian now retails at an astonishing £4. You can, and I do, read it free online but I like a physical weekend paper and I especially like one to read in pubs and cafes on solo walks. I'd also like to shop more at independent stores and less at Tesco etc; but if the independent stores don't stock what I'm after what am I to do?
I'd need to get my £4's worth. I'd chosen the Brown & Green Cafe because I'd been impressed with the one in Crystal Palace before but the one in Norwood Junction is even better. Better decorated, far more spacious, and so warm inside that my glasses steamed up on entering. Toasty.
I had a vegan sausage butty and a cup of English breakfast tea. Just the ticket. Though I probably could have done without the muzak cover of Sister Sledge's Thinking Of You which reminded me of the sort of dross that Nouvelle Vague somehow managed to spin a seven album career out of.
I left the cafe and headed down Cargreen Road, past a pretty blue house, into the South Norwood Recreation Ground. Nothing fancy, a couple of sets of goalposts, a trim trail, and a kid's playground. But it warmed me up for a walk that would be greener, and more rewarding, than I had expected.
Not long after the South Norwood Recreation Ground I came to Heavers Meadow - one of many new sights to me across the day - despite being only about five miles from my flat during the entirety of the walk.
An abandoned office chair, not the last of the day, welcomed me to a long linear park with train lines on one side and some kind of bayou (though the weather was most unlike that you may expect in Louisiana) on the other. Also, chugging along without much fanfare, I followed - briefly - the route of the Norbury Brook, a tributary of the Wandle.
On Selhurst Road, past a church and a Move It Marv van, I came to Selhurst station and as I was admiring the artwork and architecture I was approached by a young lady from Coulsdon who was representing the Croydon Seventh Day Adventist church. Anyone who knows me will know I'm not a religious man but this young lady was both polite, seemingly interested in how my day was going, and - this is key - didn't make any effort to convert me whatsoever.
Though she did give me the below leaflet which I soon observed to be the perfect shape, size, and consistency to make a very satisfying bookmark. If all religious people were as nice as her, and as my friend Teresa, I might be tempted - but probably not.
On the other side of the tracks, on Dagnell Road, I passed a couple of football pitches (imagining those playing to be future Palace stars) and, as planned, the back entrance to the Brit School. Now I'm a bit of stickler as regards the old fashioned idea that bands should be formed by friends with a shared passion and not put together at special schools but a look at those who have attended the Brit School makes my argument look considerably less watertight.
FKA Twigs, Kae Tempest, Cush Jumbo, Black Midi, Raye, Shingai Shoniwa (Noisettes), Cat Burns, Dane Bowers (!), King Krule, Katy B, Rizzle Kicks, Jessie J, Katie Melua, Leona Lewis, Polly Scattergood, Kate Nash, Imogen Heap, and Jamie Woon. Oh, and Adele. And Amy Winehouse.
You almost certainly won't be a fan of ALL those artists but you've got to admit it's a pretty impressive list. The front of the Brit School, on The Crescent, is architecturally interesting - if a little confusing - and there's an advert for a week long course that will set you back a cool £299. Not cheap - but if you end up with the level of success of Adele it'll pay for itself, won't it?
Anyway, not long had I left the Brit School when I came across an even more remarkable institution - the aforementioned Pauline Quirke Academy (or PQA Croydon as those in the know call it). I was so excited that I had to send a photo to Rob immediately. It simply couldn't wait. Much like the fictional diarrhoea that came out of Charlie Brooker's bumhole on the bus with Quirke sat behind him.
The next point of interest, for me - and probably me only, was a sign for a SUPERLOOP bus service. This reminded me of a family holiday to North Wales where I got to go on amazing funfair ride called the Superloop.
Further memories would come flooding back as I turned into Holmesdale Road and made my way, via a subway, to Selhurst Park itself. Cold nights, afternoons even, sat in the Holmesdale Road stand, Danny Butterfield's perfect hat-trick (scored against Wolves in February 2010 - and in less than seven minutes, not bad for a guy who only scored six goals in two hundred and thirty-two Palace appearances), and, somehow - almost accidentally, sneaking in to a game for free once with Shep and one of his workmates.
The A-Z I was carrying with my on my walk today is so old that it still marks Selhurst Park as the stadium of Crystal Palace and Wimbledon (who last played there over two decades ago in 2003). I'm not much of a fan though because as I poked my head through the fence and saw a mural of Crystal Palace players I failed to recognise most of them. Though I got Vince Hilaire and Ian Wright (the older ones).
As I curled round the top of the hallowed stadium I took in a more impressive mural and an eaterie by the name of Yumi Dumpling (the perfect way to celebrate a Michael Olise goal) before noticing that, in the distance, you could see the twin towers of Croydon's IKEA poking into the sky. Pam would have been excited.
I was more impressed by the fact that my map was showing me I could take a slightly different route to the one I'd planned and that that would take me through another green space new to me - Whitehorse Meadow. I was glad I did - and not just because it gave me the chance to empty my bladder away from other people.
Whitehorse Meadow was a little muddy but it was surprisingly wild, had a little pond, and had a sign up showing the wildlife you might (but I didn't) see passing through. There's even a view across to Selhurst Park and I can imagine that, on match day, the roar of the faithful can be heard very clearly from this vantage point.
Almost as soon as you're out of Whitehorse Meadow, you're in Grangewood Park. A bigger green space and one where trees flank you in all directions as you climb an increasingly steep hill. You don't realise quite how steep until you get to the top and take in the views. Grangewood Park, like much of the green spaces for miles around, was once part of the Great North Wood and there's a sign there to show you where you are and just how big the Great North Wood once was. Perhaps it could be a walk, quite a long walk, in itself one day.
I didn't come out of Grangewood Park quite where I'd attended but I was able to correct myself quite easily and soon I was ascending South Norwood Hill with the Croydon Transmitting Station coming into proud view. I was, and would be for a while now, repeating my SE19 perambulation - although this time I was going in the opposite direction.
Which meant it was downhill through the muddy, though picturesque, Beaulieu Heights and downhill again on Auckland Road to the South Norwood Lake which looked spectacular in the crisp January sunshine. I looped the lake and took in coots, moorhens, pochards, mallards, and gulls as well as pigeons, squirrels, and even a robin in the surrounding park. There were a couple of Egyptian geese as well but they seemed to have commandeered their own private island.
Views to both the Croydon Transmitting Station and the Crystal Palace Tower dominated the skyline and I took in the moving dedications on the various benches dotted around the lake. I tried to think of all the people who had had such wonderful times in this park and all the lives now lost. Some of the benches were for people who had died at a much younger age than they should have done.
From the lake I took a few residential streets back towards Norwood Junction. I saw a very photogenic looking bucket of (seemingly abandoned) paint, a pretty-ish church, a nice house, and a sign warning people DON'T EVEN THINK OF PARKING HERE. That friendly London welcome.
They'd even underlined the word THINK and, of course, it was all in capital letters. A masterclass in passive-aggressive nimbyism. I don't have a car at the moment so I won't be parking there but I can assure you that I will be thinking of parking there. In fact, it's almost the only thing I can think about. I just can't get it off my mind.
Luckily, after crossing GOAT HOUSE BRIDGE, I soon came to a pub and was able to quench my thirst and try to think about something other than parking there (in that place). They were showing Newcastle play Sunderland in the FA Cup (Newcastle were 2-0 up and would go on win 3-0) so a good day for those who support Saudi Arabia's murderous and homophobic regime.
I had a bag of Salt'n'Vinegar McCoys and a pint of blackcurrant and lemonade (still off the pop - that's the reason I'm getting this blog out on a Saturday evening) and sat reading the paper and doing the crossword and the sudoku. Good times. A sign in the toilet told me that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had once lived on nearby Tennison Road. I was about to take a photo but another bloke came in and I thought it was probably poor form to start waving a phone camera around next to a man who's got his winkie out.
I left the pub and walked down Harrington Road. At Harrington Road Tramlink station I crossed the tracks and entered, for the first time ever, the large South Norwood Coutry Park. It was much wilder, and a fair bit muddier, than I'd expected. It'd be a fun place to ride a mountain bike, or a motorbike. Full of gnarly trails. In places you can see no sign of being in a city. At other times, the tram line rides along the side of the park.
I'd said to Mo, who lives fairly locally, I'd send her a message at this point and I did. I told her I'd be at nearby Ahsburton Park at roughly 3.45pm and, after a reasonably quick stretch along Macclesfield Road and Estcourt Road, I arrived at exactly that time - and so did Mo. That worked surprisingly well.
I was starting to get chilly (had I been outdoors too long? had the pub lulled me into a false sense of security? was I not wrapped up warm enough?) but more than that I needed a wee - quite desperately. Mo showed me where a coffee shop with a toilet was but it was closed. I spoke to a very kind lady who was closing up and she, perhaps seeing the desperation on my face, allowed me in to spend a penny and then Mo and I continued through an unremarkable, if pleasant and larger than I'd expected, Ashburton Park to an area known as Woodside.
Not an area I had been previously been aware of and, to be honest, it's pretty small. We passed over Woodside Green and down Dickenson's Lane where Mo said her goodbyes and I continued the final stretch on my own again. Past some houses that looked a bit like industrial units (though I liked them) and through Brickfields Meadow Doorstep Green.
Or should that be Brickfield Meadow AND Doorstep Green. It's not clear but what is clear is that Brickfields Meadow used to be a site of a former brickworks. It's the other side of the train tracks to Heavers Meadow and they seem to be almost twins. With the sun starting to go down, and the weather getting colder, Brickfields Meadow looked a bit sorry and I didn't stick around long before coming out on Tennison Road (no sign of Conan Doyle or even a plaque to him - though I didn't walk the whole road) and then heading down Birchanger Road and Carmichael Road before heading under the subway to come out near Norwood Junction and The Cherry Tree pub again.
This time I went in. It was the right time of day for a pint (of booze) and I was certainly tempted but not so tempted that I had one. I had another pint of blackcurrant and lemonade and another bag of crisps (Walkers, ready salted, not exciting but reliable) and read more of the paper as a TV screen flashed up FA Cup scores and the jukebox blasted out Don Henley's Boys of Summer, Voice of the Beehive's Don't Call Me Baby, Juke Box Jive by The Rubettes, and Keane's Somewhere Only We Know. Some enthusiastic pool players joined in with Simon and Garfunkel's Sound of Silence.
I took the short walk to Norwood Junction. There was some delay, and confusion, with the trains and I ended up, by mistake, getting a fast one to London Bridge then having to kill time before heading back to Honor Oak Park. I popped in to Sainsbury's, bought some houmous, breadsticks, a pizza, some veggie sausages, some brioche hot dog rolls, and a bottle of Schweppes slimline lemonade before heading home, checking my blood pressure, updating my diary, and writing this blog while listening to Late Junction and Huey's Six Music show.
It'd been a good day and it'd been my first ever alcohol free 'perambulations on the perimeter' walk. Maybe it will be my only one. Maybe it won't. Time will tell. Most importantly, I enjoyed it just as much as all the other ones and, in fact, more than some of them. SE25 did me proud. It's SE27 next. At least that's the plan.
No comments:
Post a Comment