Foulwell and Kingston-Upon-Railway

The suburbs are weird, aren’t they? I mean, by their very nature. Central London has long been a well-defined place. City walls, city gates, parish boundaries, main roads and the river have meant that for centuries the different places in London have been pretty clearly delineated. Granted, there’s the occasional dispute about, e.g., where the West End ends, and there are new places like Fitzrovia and Chinatown to contend with, but by and large you know where you are.

The suburbs, though, are different. You can’t really have suburbs until you have decent transport, so the area we now tend to think of as “suburbia” didn’t really exist until the 19th century. And I know I go on about the railways in London quite a lot, but the fact is that they were absolutely instrumental to the formation of Greater London.

For instance, take where I live – Colliers Wood. Where is Colliers Wood? It’s at the southern end of the Northern Line (incidentally, it’s a geographical irony that the Northern Line goes further south than any other Tube line). When was it founded? Well, basically, Colliers Wood-the-place didn’t exist until 1926, when the Tube station was opened. The area wasn’t exactly desolate and uninhabited, but this place as a whole was known as Merton. Colliers Wood was a local landmark that hadn’t existed for about fifty years when the Tube came along. Had the Underground station been named something different, I might well consider myself a resident of Merton Abbey, or Haydons Road, or Tooting-on-Tube.

The last may seem like a flight of fancy, but know this – there nearly was a suburb with an equally stupid name. When the London and Southampton Railway opened their station a little way south of the busy market town of Kingston, they planned to call it Kingston-upon-Railway. Because it sort-of served Kingston, but not quite. Good sense eventually prevailed, and it was renamed in 1869. The original Surbiton was a small village, also not-quite-served by the new station. However, the station and its railway line were very convenient for commuters, and so a town grew up around the station. The station was called Surbiton, so, inevitably, was the town around it. What if the station had been called something else? Would we even have a Surbiton today? Would we think of Kingston-upon-Railway as the main town, and Kingston-upon-Thames be relegated to the status of “Old Kingston” or some such?

I suspect a few of the suburbs, such as Hampton Wick, wouldn’t really be anything more than a theoretical concept were it not for their railway stations. Hampton Wick has little by way of a focal point other than its station. Certain other suburbs, lacking notability, were absorbed by others as the commuter towns expanded – Lonesome being a case in point, once a village in its own right and now just a part of Streatham.

And this brings me on to the strange case of Fulwell. Fulwell is one of those places that always feels as if it’s on the verge of vanishing, as I had cause to reflect when I went there for a party on Saturday. It’s quite old, its name may have derived from “foul well” (so good work on getting that renamed, I suppose). It doesn’t really have a high street to speak of – a few shops, but nothing to distinguish it from the outlying parts of Twickenham or Teddington, on whose borders it lies. Its major landmark is the bus garage, pictured above right, but that’s more of an obstacle than a focal point. There is a railway station, sure, but it’s an unmanned two-platform branch line affair in a back street. I’m not clear exactly where it begins and ends. I reckon that, were the station to be renamed, the town would cease to exist altogether, torn between Teddington and Twickenham. It’s usually at this point that a bunch of angry residents of the area post a huge rant in the comments section about how I’m wrong and stupid, so scroll down to skip straight to that.

Yet right next to Fulwell, but a short walk from the station, you have Hampton Hill – nothing but a high street really, yet nobody would dispute the validity of its existence. Damned if I understand the suburbs.

The White Stuff

You know, with all the excitement, I never did get around to putting up my snow photos. Which is a shame, because working in Bloomsbury you get some rather pretty scenes on the way into work. Here’s a snowy photo entry type thing! Hurrah!

We begin the journey, as I did, in Colliers Wood. Not that Colliers Wood is a particularly scenically spectacular place, but I thought it would be nice to get a shot of the virgin snow in the small hours. Virgin anything is a rarity in South London, particularly after a late night.

Here is Colliers Wood the next morning. See what I mean about it not being scenically spectacular? Oh well, that’s suburbia I suppose. Affordable suburbia, at least.

Here we go, Bloomsbury at last. Here are some of the many parks and gardens in the area.

This on the left is Store Street, just off Tottenham Court Road. Is that a really big wreath or a really small building?

Also, what is it with blue lights these days? I bet in years to come, blue lights will be remembered as one of those retro obsessions we had.

The snow had started to melt by the time I got to the Brunswick Centre. Still, there was enough on the Christmas trees for my sinister purpose.

The rather art deco lions outside the British Museum seemed unperturbed by the weather. I call the one to the left of the doors Fortescue and the one to the right Ponsomby.

Fortescue is the impulsive one, Ponsomby is the sobering influence.

Statue of Peter Pan outside Great Ormond Street Hospital. Interesting fact, trivia fans: the ashes of former Prime Minister Jim Callaghan are scattered in the flower bed there.

Now, here are three icons of the city – a phone box, a pillar box and an Underground sign. I liked this blog better before it sold out to the tourists.

And finally, a disgruntled pigeon.

Gone for a Merton, Part II

In yesterday’s entry I talked about Merton Abbey Mills, and briefly brushed against the subject of the Abbey itself. Today, Seb drew my attention to the following:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-10912858

I didn't have a decent photo of the ruins of the Chapter House, so here's a better picture of the Colourhouse - which may well have once been part of the Abbey.

This is a BBC report on the hidden ruins of the old Priory. The custodians of the site are hoping to get it World Heritage status. I support this, firstly for the obvious reason that I live near it, but secondly because it’s one of those secret, unknown parts of the city that really deserves to be better known.

Henry III. Now there was a man who understood facial hair, even if his crown did come from a Christmas cracker.

As the chap says in the video linked to above, Merton Abbey is hugely significant in English history. In its heyday, it was on a par with Westminster Abbey in terms of importance. It was founded under Henry I, Henry III held court there and mad Henry VI was crowned there. Thomas Becket (not A Becket, that’s a scribe’s error) was educated here. In 1235 the Statute of Merton was drawn up. This, the follow-up to the better-known Magna Carta, formed the basis of modern English law. Helpfully, it also defined a bastard. That guy who drives through a massive puddle, spraying you with mud while you’re waiting for a bus even though he could easily steer around it? Not a bastard, at least in law.

There are plenty of other places vying for World Heritage status. A lot of industry is represented – the Great Western Railway and other railway pioneer places are hoping to win the status, as are Chatham Docks, the Welsh slate industry and the Forth Bridge. A couple of cities are hopeful – Lincoln and York. Blackpool is also in there, though it’s hardly a city. The almost unspeakably beautiful Flow Country in Scotland and Lake District in England are on the list. More recent hopefuls include Jodrell Bank and RAF Upper Heyford. All have a claim, but in the end, there can be only one.

So what does World Heritage Status mean? Well, basically, that it becomes the responsibility of the world to preserve it. In a nutshell. There may be money. And you probably get a nice plaque or something.

London can boast several sites. Kew Gardens, Maritime Greenwich, the Palace of Westminster, the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, Westminster School and St Margarets Church all have World Heritage Status. Will Merton Abbey be joining them? Well, here’s hoping.

Further Reading

http://www.culture.gov.uk/news/news_stories/7221.aspx - The “Tentative List,” as it is known, of British sites nominated this year.

Gone for a Merton

I’ve lamented the decline of some of London’s best-known markets in these pages before, so I’d like to use today’s entry to talk about an utterly enchanting example of one of the lesser known markets.

In fact, this one is very near to me – about 15 minutes walk via the scenic route – so it’s a mystery why I haven’t talked about it before now. Merton Abbey Mills describes itself as London’s Alternative Market. It’s located out in the suburbs, more-or-less equidistant between Colliers Wood and South Wimbledon Stations on the Northern Line, near Phipps Bridge on the Tramlink and a short bus ride from Wimbledon Main Line and District Line stations. And if you’re particularly energetic, you can peg it from Haydons Road. To get there from the main road (and Colliers Wood bus garage), I would recommend taking a walk along the river from in front of the massive Sainsbury’s superstore. This is perhaps the most unexpected aspect of it – much of the area is covered by superstores, car parks, hotels and similarly overwhelming structures. So this little 19th century survivor is somewhat incongruous.

The market is near to the site of  the medieval Merton Abbey – indeed, the Colourhouse Theatre, on site, may have been an ancillary building to the old Priory. If so, it would be one of the few remnants of the Abbey surviving to the present day (although there are some fragments walls, and the ruins of the Chapter House are preserved in a secret little chamber under the road).

This part of what-would-eventually-become South London lapsed into boringness following the Dissolution of the Monasteries under Henry VIII. However, from the 17th century onwards, the river came into demand for the purposes of industry. See, the thing about the Wandle is that it’s rubbish for navigation. It’s shallow and fast-flowing, so can’t be used for carrying goods. However, it’s perfect for driving waterwheels. The chalky water also makes it ideal for the purpose of textile manufacture. Merton Abbey Mills was founded in the 18th century as a silk works, one of dozens of mills along the river and the only working survivor.

1890 painting of the Mills by L L Pocock. Thanks, Wikipedia!

The charming complex was taken over by William Morris, he of Arts and Crafts fame, in 1881. In accordance with his rather sentimental philosophy (I like Arts and Crafts just fine, but you have to admit it has a somewhat 19th-century middle-class sentimentality about it), he retained the old buildings, adapting and adding to them. Carpets, stained glass, tapestries and fabrics were all produced here. The site was taken over by Liberty’s in 1940 and abandoned in 1972, following which it fell into a state of shocking dereliction.

In 1989, fortunately, it was figured that something ought to be done about this horrible eyesore, and so following the example of Camden Lock (to the extent of using the same consultants, I believe) it was decided to turn the place into a craft market.

Today the market boasts of half a million visitors per year. As well as the market, there’s the aforementioned Colourhouse Theatre and the William Morris pub on site. The wheelhouse, as you can see in the photo at the top of this entry, has been restored and the wheel now provides power to a pottery. There is a small display on the history of the area inside.

The shops and stalls are a fairly eclectic mix. The market deliberately encourages independent artistic types, offering free stalls (I know, right?) and being, I understand, fairly strict about what is considered unsuitable for sale. There’s a second-hand bookshop and a small but varied vintage clothing shop next door to each other, so that keeps me happy for a while, and they’re across the way from some marvellous small restaurants. Izzi and I have sampled the waffles and the Caribbean cuisine, and found them good. The waffles in particular induced a sense of guilt within me, but this was overruled by my tastebuds. God, I miss those pre-diet days.

Other stalls and shops sell paintings, dolls’ house furniture, farm goods, ceramics, clothing, rocks and gems, fancy dress and some really top-notch coffee beans. The market as a whole has an artsy-but-independent feel about it that is, as far as I’m aware, unique in London.  It’s not as trendy as Camden and not as touristy as Portobello, but neither of these are a bad thing. There’s a much more relaxed feel about it than you get at any of the bigger markets, and is one of the finest ways I know to spend a summer afternoon.

The whole thing can be done in about an hour. If you wish to make more of your visit to the area, a pleasant walk along the riverside will bring you to Deen City Farm and Morden Hall Park.

All in all, Merton Abbey Mills is highly  recommended for those with a love of arts and crafts, those who seek a rural escape in the heart of suburbia and those who keep a London blog and can’t think of a subject for their Sunday entry.

Achey breaky feet

Yesterday was a bit of a mistake. See, as part of my weight loss programme, I’m trying to exercise more. Therefore, yesterday I decided to go on a nice long walk. No particular aim other than to burn some calories.

I find most forms of exercise a bit of a pain in the old behind. Not  because they’re tiring, but because they’re so dull. Lifting weights? Well, why did you put them on the floor in the first place, idiot? Football? Well, if you’d just stop running around and took it in turns to kick, you could score a lot more goals. Walking, on the other hand, is great. I get to know the city better and I can find lots of interesting things on the way.

There’s a funny little alleyway near where I live. In nearly four years of being in Colliers Wood, I have never been down there. So that’s what I did. I discovered that it brought me out alongside the river Wandle. It’s not a bad walk, if you don’t mind hideously ugly industry and relative isolation. Which most people do. So, er.

After walking for simply aaaages, I came back to the main road, and found myself in Earlsfield. “Well,” I thought, “this isn’t far from home at all. I shall keep walking… TO THE END OF THE WANDLE!” Lightning flashed at that point for reasons I am at a loss to explain.

So I followed the back streets and came to King George Park, where the path rejoins the river. This brought me out in Wandsworth, where the river ends. I had a bit of a stroll around, a bit of an explore. And then I saw a sign pointing me to Fulham. Now, I’ve passed through Fulham several times, but not on foot.

So, out of curiosity, I crossed Wandsworth Bridge. I found… well, mostly what I found was suburbia. I did find a wicked-awesome derelict factory, though, and took several photos. I won’t subject you to all of them, fear not, but you can have some of them.

And I just sort of ended up walking on and on. Through Fulham, on to Hammersmith and ultimately on to Shepherd’s Bush. I have a couple of chums here who have appeared in these pages before, and gave them a bell to suggest meeting up. I suspect I did not present the best picture, being completely sweaty and ‘orrible, not to mention babbling insanely due to endorphines (incidentally, excellent way to get high if you’re into that sort of thing).

We had dinner at a place called Fire and Stone in the Westfield Centre. If you’re not familiar with Fire and Stone, it’s a really rather far-out pizza place where more-or-less anything edible can end up on your pizza. For instance, I went with the ‘New York’, which included crispy smoked bacon, roast potatoes, caramelised onions and sour cream. Another that caught my eye was the ‘London’, featuring bacon, egg, sausage and black pudding. Yes, basically breakfast on a pizza.

I resisted dessert and took the last Central Line tube from White City, the idea being to change at Notting Hill Gate on to the District Line to Wimbledon and bus it from there. Except that Notting Hill Gate was closed for refurbishment. It’s all very well telling people to consult the TfL website when planning their journey, but I rarely know where I’m going to end up. So I got out at Holland Park and walked up to Paddington. From there, a couple of night buses home. Ooh, me aching feet.

Anyway, here are some random psychogeographical-type photos documenting the journey from Shepherd’s Bush on.

Mostly Farmless

Cerys in concert - another triumph of my mad photography skillz

I’ve managed to do very little this weekend, largely due to still feeling grotty and having a cough that makes people ponder their own mortality. I did go to see Cerys Matthews’ gig in St Albans on Friday with a number of friends, which was totally wicked-awesome. I had a massive crush on her when I was about 17, so you know.

Other than that, though, the weekend’s been uneventful. Last weekend, though, I managed to finally get down to Deen City Farm. This is about ten minutes’ walk from me, and yet it’s taken me this long to get there. It’s located a short way down the river Wandle from Merton Abbey Mills craft market, so you might consider combining the two for a pleasant afternoon if you have children or a hangover.

Being a city-raised person, animals are an exciting novelty to me. Here are some photos.

These are chickens. They are edible.

Ducks. These exist primarily for our amusement, although are still delicious.

Rabbit (edible) and guinea pig (not considered edible in Europe)

A turkey. This breed, I am told, is known as a “jive turkey” and is also described as “highly edible.”

Piggies! These are perhaps the most edible animal around.

Sheep. Edible but high in fat. Consider goat as a lean alternative.

A finch. Edible, but not really worth the trouble.

If you go down to the Wood today

Ninety-ninth post, and to celebrate this arbitrary occasion, I thought I’d blog a bit about something closer to home than usual. Well, closer to home for me. I’m talkin’ Colliers Wood.

Colliers Wood is, on the face of it, a bit of a nothing place. If you don’t live in South West London, the chances are you won’t have heard of it, or at most it’ll be just a name on a Tube map. In some ways, that’s appropriate – the place pretty much didn’t exist until a Tube station was built there in 1926. Had it not been for that, it would probably just be another part of Merton. It’s named after a wood frequented by colliers, or charcoal burners to you, that was uprooted in the 1890s.

There’s one really notable building, and that’s this little beauty:

This building has gone by many names. It’s been called “The Vortex”, “The Brown and Root Tower” and “The Lyons Tower”. Now it’s just called “The Tower” or, going by the lettering above the door, “T e  ow r”. It won’t have escaped your attention that it is, frankly, so ugly that its own mother would disown it. In 2006, it was voted the ugliest building in London – and it’s got some stiff competition.

Developers Golfrate have been talking for some time about doing something with this tower, most likely an external redevelopment to make it a bit easier on the eye. However, in the three years since the BBC interviewed them about it (see link below), nothing has been done. There are no tenants and the building is, quite literally, falling apart. As you can see in the photo, the windows are now boarded up and netting has been applied to the sides to protect pedestrians from falling bits.

Nonetheless, there is hope – Criterion Capital have announced on their website that they’re planning to turn the place into a state-of-the-art residential development, destroying the rotting multi-storey car park next to it and building a replacement for Colliers Wood’s ugly-as-all-hell public library. The project is called “Colliers Wood Island”, which is much better than the original choice of “Colliers Wood Mudflat”.

Of course, for some of us, this isn’t quick enough. Shoinan, whose blog you may see linked to the right if I’ve got the hang of this “linking” thing, founded a group on Facebook called “Let’s Blow Up The Colliers Wood Tower”. It seems to be rather popular with South Londoners, and even got an article in the local paper. Yr. Humble Chronicler was featured in the article’s photo, as was comedian David Cross, mistakenly identified as a friend of ours. And no, we didn’t correct their mistake.

Apparently just blowing the Tower up isn’t an option, due to the Northern Line running underneath. Which is a lame excuse. I mean, “boo hoo I can’t get to Morden”? If you want to get there that badly, you probably already live there, in which case stay home and stop yer whining.

Further reading

http://www.bbc.co.uk/london/content/articles/2006/05/25/most_hated_building_feature.shtml - the BBC pulls no punches.

http://www.criterioncapital.co.uk/development-colliers-wood.html - Criterion’s website

http://te-in.facebook.com/group.php?gid=2237527501 - Make your voice heard… in Facebook form!

http://shoinan.com/ - for Shoinan’s non-blowing-things-up-related thoughts.

Bijou post-ette #2 – Sinister goings-on in SW17?

Here’s a shop that’s always puzzled me.

It’s located on the approach to the bridge that marks the border between Tooting and Colliers Wood, on the Tooting side. Now, is this a case of misleading advertising, or has the twenty-first century finally delivered on its promise of awesomeness? I suppose it doesn’t matter, as the shop appears to have closed down… or has its interior merely dematerialised?

I suppose the existence of this shop goes some way to explaining this anachronistic visitor from Morden: