Permbulations on the Perimeter of .... SE27: From the Royal Circus to the Greek Orthodox Necropolis/What Became Of The Great North Wood?

I surprised myself. It'd been over a year since I last took one of my 'perambulations on the perimeter' walks. That one was around SE25. Yesterday's was SE27 which doesn't border SE25 (as it does SE19, SE21, SE24, SW16, and SW2) but isn't that far away. It's not the largest of postal codes to go exploring and much of it consists of long suburban avenues of pleasant, if unremarkable, houses but, like everywhere, if you look hard enough there's plenty to see

 

I enjoyed my day. That's for sure, and it didn't even rain as almost every weather forecast had predicted (I heard from my mate Dave Fog that West London was enjoying/enduring something of a thunderstorm but South East London remained untouched, in fact it was a pretty warm and sunny March day). I walked to Tulse Hill via Dulwich Park and Belair Park chatting to my mum (about her and my dad's recent mini-break in Eype's Mouth near Bridport and, as ever, medical conditions) and as soon as I arrived in Tulse Hill I popped into the Co-Op and bought a copy of the day's Guardian.

Roxy Music's Dance Away was playing on the radio (see what I did there?) and it would be the first, and probably the best, of the earworms that would accompany on my day's walking. After that it was into the Tulse Hill Cafe Restaurant (definitely more a cafe than a restaurant) for an absolutely delicious plate of cheese omelette'n'chips with bread and butter and a cup of tea. A couple of guys on the next table were chatting about the British class system, Maggie Thatcher, and the privatisation of the railways and, of course, I joined in as the radio played Come On Eileen and Let's Stay Together (more earworms). The guy serving at the cafe was a friendly old cove too, asking if I could pay him in Turkish lira.

From the cafe, I headed down Norwood Road, left into Lancaster Avenue, and, just before reaching the A205/South Circular, turned right into  Tuslemere Road where, at the bottom - near its junction with Idmiston Road, I was attracted by a rather beautiful, if somewhat careworn, blue and white painted Gothic Lodge.

This morning's cursory research revealed 21 Idmiston Road to be of late 19c provenance and that it now serves as a care home - which may or may not explain the balloons in the windows and the young filipinas I saw inside the 'lodge'. A reason I didn't take any more photographs.

On nearby Barston Road, Ziggy the cat had gone missing and somebody had mislaid their four way locking cat flap. I couldn't help wondering if these two incidents were related. Barston Road took me to Chestnut Road which reminded me of my ol' mate Rob Uriarte (he was nicknamed Chestnut because he was nuts about chests) and just as it turned a right angle into Park Hall Road there was a large mural dedicated to the Great North Wood, from where Norwood takes its name.

It's very colourful and it's got a badger and a fox on it and who doesn't like badgers and foxes. It wouldn't be the last time on this walk I'd think of badgers either but more of that soon. The Great North Wood (which is a potential walk I've had in the back of my mind for some time) was a natural oak woodland that stretched all way from Deptford to Croydon and from Streatham to Lewisham. As you can probably imagine much of it was swallowed up by London's sprawl southwards into what was once Surrey. But pockets remain.

Dulwich Woods, Sydenham Hill Wood, Beaulieu Heights, and so on. Samuel Pepys wrote of meeting fortune tellers in the Great North Wood in the 17c and Daniel Defoe extolled the virtue of the area in the eighteenth. As late as 1802 it is believed a hermit named 'Matthews the hairyman' lived in a cave deep within the woods and even Herne the Hunter, an antlered ghost more often associated with Windsor and its Great Park, has been linked to the area. 

None of those characters were on show yesterday - unsurprisingly - so I decided to dip into West Norwood Cemetery (one of London's Magnificent Seven and one I incorporated into a walk back in 2019 - more here) for a look around. Like most large cemeteries, it is a place of peace and reflection and a place I don't find depressing. Instead, it fills me with hope for humanity when I see the efforts we make to celebrate those we loved who have now departed. The children's graves though, the graves of day old babies even, they're absolutely heartbreaking.

Having written, in some depth, about the cemetery and its notable internees before, I won't go into too much detail except to say some of the graves, and especially the Greek Orthodox necropolis, are highly impressive. Notable 'residents' include the sugar magnate and gallery founder Sir Henry Tate, pottery manufacturer Sir Henry Doulton (not hard to miss his one, it's done in terracotta), household management guru Mrs Beeton, inventor of the machine gun Hiram Maxim, and steel magnate Sir Henry Bessemer.

Then there's the graves of Victorian engineers, medics, MPs, and sportsmen - many of them now barely remembered - and also the graves of ordinary people. The name Carlton Parchment proved satisfying to me and the balloons wishing Happy Birthday and Happy St Patrick's Day on some of the graves reminded me that this a working cemetery as much as it is a historical site. Near the side of one grave, I heard a young lady singing to the deceased and the flowers on another that read "MORE NANNY MUM NAN" reminded me of the complicated interpersonal relationships we all form in our lives and how when a person goes so much goes with them. It's not just the body that has gone, it's all the memories and links to the past that have gone with it. Cemeteries always remind me that we should make the most of our time here because we don't know how long we have. I always leave them resolving to be a kinder, more resilient, more adventurous, and more compassionate person.

You enter, and leave, the cemetery near the West Norwood Library & Picturehouse and later today they're showing, thanks to my friend Jack I know this, a short film about the history of the Crystal Palace dinosaurs (alongside films about Saudi women's football, crazy golf, and the transformative power of sport for disabled people) which would be nice to go and see but I've made other plans. It's a nice cinema though and I was nearly tempted in for a hot chocolate and a cake.

Instead, I continued up Norwood High Street past St.Luke's Grade II listed Anglican church and the South London Theatre (originally a Victorian fire station designed by Victorian fire station architect Robert Pearsall, its upcoming programme includes productions by Steven Moffat and Moira Buffini) before dipping down and along Auckland Hill with fantastic views (and not for the last time of the day) of the Crystal Palace Tower in front of me. 

Regular readers, if - indeed - such people exist, will know I love the Crystal Palace Tower. Auckland Hill bought me out on Gipsy Road and Gipsy Road took me to my first pub stop of the day. I'm doing an alcohol free March so I knew it wouldn't be a long stop but I was looking forward to a sit down and to tackle the crosswords and quizzes in the newspaper.

The Two Towers was a new pub on me and I can't see it becoming a regular port of call. Nothing bad happened (except the pint of lemonade I ordered was nowhere near a pint) but the pub didn't have the sort of character I looked for in a pub. It did have character though. Several locals propped up the bar while another couple played pool. The only indoor seats that were free were rather moth eaten looking sofas so instead, with the weather still pleasant, I headed out to the garden.

Nobody else was in the garden but I didn't feel alone. Far from it. Keeping me company were stepladders, sack trucks, wheelbarrows, shovels, normal ladders, sun loungers, and loads of empty (and some full) flower baskets. I sat with my lemonade near a brightly painted Gozo themed ashtray and as the jukebox blasted out Elvis's In The Ghetto, Barry White, The Eagles, The Prodigy's Smack My Bitch Up, and a couple of Kinks tunes (Lola and Sunny Afternoon) I read an interview with Jeff Bridges and discovered (via a quiz in the paper) that Eddie the Eagle's real name isn't even Eddie. Or Edward.

From the pub I crossed under the railway line and came off Salter's Road into Norwood Park. Commanding views of the London skyline, a skatepark, a (much needed) toilet, and a somewhat minimalist sculpture by a chap called Richard Trupp which had me thinking about the monolith in 2001:A Space Odyssey.

 

The North Wood Group Practice Surgery, on the other side of the park - a little up Crown Dale, is a nice modern building painted in a fetching yet sympathetic shade of green and from there it was a ninety degree turn into Tivoli Road and Tivoli Park. Named for the park in Rome but, presumably, nowhere near as big. I only popped my head in and refrained from taking more than a couple of photographs as it was full of young children and that's not a good idea.

So, instead, it was a walk along the near deserted Dassett's Avenue, on to Knight's Hill, Bewlys Road, Roxburgh Road, Cheviot Road, Casewick Road, Lamberhurst Road, and, best of all, St Julian's Farm Road before following a couple more roads (you don't need all the names, c'mon) up to Royal Circus.

Royal Circus? Fancy name, you might think. I certainly did when I first lived in the area. Back in the late nineties, Tina and I walked here specifically to see what it was all about. This circular road with a patch of green (which I thought might be a small park) in the middle. About ten years ago I cycled through when heading to Streatham for an appraisal. The hills were fun. Like a rollercoaster.

The reality of Royal Court, however, should not be overstated. It's a big roundabout with a large house, Tongue House, in the middle that has been converted into flats and therefore is neither a park nor a place the public are allowed to access. The views are good however and Lansdowne Hill is a short steep hill that leads you, and - yesterday - me, to the centre of Norwood once again. My joy was at this point near unconrollable.

 

There's a few pubs and bars around the centre of Norwood but my curiousity was piqued by a place called Badger Badger (see, told you badgers would reappear) which was a pub/bar I'd never seen before that served Japanese food and had a board games shop attached. The playing of board games was very much encouraged and nearly half the people in there were indulging.

The games were more of the ilk of Catan of Onitama than Monopoly or Scrabble but it looked like a lovely place to waste an afternoon. Good beer, good company, and good board games. Sadly, I had none of the three (another day perhaps) so I finished my lemonade and took a fairly stiff walk home via the Forest Hill Sainsbury's.

I was back home by about 6pm (that doesn't happen with TADS, LbF, or Thames Path walks) so I had a little nap before getting up again, writing a blog about Friday night's John Cale gig, scoffing a pizza, and watching The Last Leg and Gary Lineker and Alan Shearer talk about Thomas Tuchel's first England game as manager (a 2-0 victory over Albania with 18 year old local - Denmark Hill - boy Myles Lewis-Skelly scoring on his debut and Harry Kane netting his 70th international goal) before turning in remarkably early for a Saturday night. Saturday nights may not be what they used to be but Saturday daytimes are fun. In two weeks time the TADS are back and we're heading from Balcombe to Haywards Heath where we will be acquainted with a figure nearly as mysterious as Herne the Hunter and Matthews the hairyman, a certain Mr Ouse. Mr Booze may also return to say hello.