November 27, 1999: Honor Oak to Balham

I had not anticipated another walk in 1999 when, two weeks earlier, the Lees and I had made our way down to the platform at Honor Oak. Much to my surprise, however, Tosh called midweek to propose yet another outing on the Green London Way. A four day weekend, the Thanksgiving break, had now begun, and I suggested that Saturday looked most promising – with too many appointments on Friday and Sunday already booked.

My Friday appointments had included a visit to Harley Street, one of many I have been undertaking lately as Dr. Foale searches for some clues to my elevated blood pressure. The radiologist didn’t think the small stones he had discovered in both my kidneys on Friday morning were the cause of my high blood pressure – just something else for me to worry about on the health scene, like my broken left arm and my sore right shoulder

Saturday promised the best weather of the weekend and a chance to think about something other than illness, so I typed out the route-finding instructions from Gilbert’s book, stuck it and the A-Zed in my knapsack and at 8:10 I departed the household for the Maida Vale tube stop. Here I bought a zone four ticket, good on all my train and tube journeys this day. At 8:45 I was wandering around Charing Cross Station while the Lees made some minor purchases and at 9:00 we were off to London Bridge. Here we dashed about – in the absence of any proper electronic advice – searching for the right platform for a connecting train to Honor Oak – and by 9:25 we were arrived. The weather was surprisingly mild. It was cool (you could see your breath this early in the day) but it was sunny and there was practically no wind. I wore my leather jacket and my scarf all day, but I did not need gloves or wool hat. In fact I felt better today than I had two weeks earlier.

I stowed the A-Zed in the back of Harold’s knapsack and walked with my double-sided A-4 set of typed instructions; this proved to be a very useful instrument – so much more convenient than pages of xeroxes.

We walked up Honor Oak Park past a sports ground and some allotments and climbed some steps to take a path up to the church on One Tree Hill. There were nice views from this height, with great visibility throughout the day. Then we descended to the bottom of the hill and crossed a road (Brenchley Gardens) into, of all places, Brenchley Gardens. Here we turned left to walk in a bit of narrow parkland, emerging from some trees to cross the Forest Hill Road at the end. The guidebook called for us to continue forward on Wood Vale, alongside a cemetery, but, in fact, we actually belonged on the opposite pavement for, after passing some council towers, we had to turn left on Langton Rise.

We could already see the end of this street above us and when we reached Westwood Park we turned to our right. Again the guidebook asked us to take a path at the end of this street, but when I pulled the A-Zed out to have a look, it was obvious that Westwood Park continued around a corner and it was this bend in the road (not the end of the road) that was our landmark – for a tarmac path between houses beckoned us forward. We were soon walking on a route adjacent to the gardens of the Horniman Museum. There was no one about and Harold and I snuck off for a quiet pee.

We emerged a short distance from the museum at a busy intersection – some distance to the west of Forest Hill railway station – which we would have had to reach had I followed Gilbert’s stages exactly. We hadn’t, and we could now continue with the GLW, having saved a half a mile in both directions. We used the green man to get across the road and I had to search about for our continuation on Lapsewood Walk. This was located just beyond the corner, running between buildings and tracing a route behind more council houses. Gilbert suggests we follow a line of lampposts here but these objects were everywhere. Nevertheless I persevered uphill and we found a path into woodland just at the spot where a jogger was descending.

A turnoff to our right put us over a footbridge and here I paused – trying to figure out if the gate I was looking for was still green enough to count as a landmark. While I was doing this a dog managed to get himself on the wrong side of the gate in question and, when he tried to squeeze through to rejoin his people, he managed to get himself stuck between the bars. He was finally extricated by his master while his mistress explained that we had found the right gate – the one immediately adjacent to it belonging to another authority.

We now had a very delightful stretch of walking in woodland, with a golf course over on our right and, as we began to climb again, some allotments. I had feared that it would be difficult to follow our instructions here but there were no ambiguities, in spite of the many crossing paths. We turned right above the allotments and began to penetrate the wonderful smells of damp woodland. There were quite a few people about with dogs. Our route leveled out and we pressed forward at an easy pace, emerging at some gates onto another tarmac path, Low Cross Wood Lane.

By a curious accident I knew this stretch of tarmac well, having struggled (as I did now) up its steep gradients on a number of occasions over thirty years ago. At the top, opposite the Dulwich Woodhouse pub, I begged the indulgence of the Lees in accompanying me on a sentimental journey a further block along Crescent Wood Lane – and we were soon standing opposite a line of identical houses, each with an attic window in the roof, and containing one establishment where, in 1967, I had spent my very first night in England. I could no longer remember the precise address of the Prags, Dorothy’s cousins who had been our hosts back then, but I did enjoy seeing the spot again. Later in the same summer the Matthews, the Vincents and even my mother (on her only visit to the UK) had all stayed here too.

I told the Lees a little bit about this and then we turned back to the Woodhouse, where we had already seen one woman walking down the steps. When Tosh got inside, however, it turned out that (at 10:40) the pub wasn’t open yet. The Lees took against the woman inside (I never got that far) and had to satisfy themselves by leaving a clump of mud on her doormat.

So, with views of the giant transmitter in Crystal Palace – the Eiffel Tower of South London – beckoning us forward, we continued across busy Sydenham Hill (I remarked to Harold that you could never tell from Gilbert’s instructions whether Hill or Park was a street name or, in fact, a hill or a park) and along Wells Park Road, opposite. After a bit we entered, on our right, Sydenham Wells Park itself, dropping down in tidy surroundings to some ornamental lakes. Here I got out the A-Zed again, just to make sure we were heading out of the park in the right direction ­– that is onto Longton Avenue just where Ormanton Road came in.

We had a choice of which side of Charleville Circus to demi-navigate – and we took the left-hand side so as to be longer in the sunshine. Crystal Palace Park Road lay on the other side and we crossed this busy street, took a left for a short distance and entered Crystal Palace Park itself via Fisherman’s Gate.

This park is a wonderful expanse of territory, with many attractions for the child and the sportsman. Our instructions called for a descent via an artificial ski slope and a right turn past a yellow brick building (well, it could have been yellow once; hard to tell with all the graffiti) to reach a chain of artificial lakes. Many of these were guarded by gigantic prehistoric monsters – some left over from the original exposition here. The water was quite nice but when it came to an end we found ourselves once again on a portion of the Green Chain Walk, stuck between animal enclosures on our left and the sports stadium on our right. Uniformed boys were having a match already. There were some miniature ponies behind a fence too. We reached the old Crystal Palace Station, once the stopping off point for thousands of trippers, and turned right first on Ledrington Road and then on Annerly Hill to ascend a hill at the western corner of the park.

We passed the museum and re-entered the park briefly, but a local gent stopped to tell us how we could more precisely see the field on which the famous palace itself had been situated. So, after making inquiries about pubs, we descended some terraces and, amid graffiti covered sphinxes, had a look at the greensward. This westernmost corner was under threat from developers, who wanted a leisure complex built on the parkland, and our local source had been indignant at the idea. We saw signs in windows also expressing disapproval.

It was just going on 12:00 so we circled the roundabout and headed west on Westow Hill in search of the Albert pub. We found it a few blocks on, but it was undergoing refurbishment and so we retreated. (There seemed to be no Crystal Palace Broadway in either of the A-Zeds I had used, though this stretch seemed to fit Gilbert’s bill anyway.) The Lees had been eying a smart bistro, Joanna’s, and we were ushered in by a maitre d’. In fact, the Lees decided that much better views of the passing scene and much of Thameside London to the north could be obtained from a table near the window in the smoker’s section, next to the bar. Fortunately no one was smoking so we settled in for a nice hour-long rest.

The Lees ordered omelets and had their usual game of two halves. I ordered a Diet Coke and one of Joanna’s hamburgers – which proved to be no match for the beef I had eaten only a week before in Nice. Our waitress lost interest in us after a while and, although the place was slow to fill up, we were on our own to order coffee from the barman (a second round arrived soon thereafter, mysteriously).

We used the loos twice and at 1:15 started out again, edging our way back to the roundabout, crossing Westow Road and turning downhill on Farquhar Road. After a couple of blocks we turned right in Bowley Lane and I hunted about for the entrance to a small bit of surviving woodland. There was a path zigzagging downhill but there didn’t seem to be any exit at the bottom of the wood and we floundered about a bit, circling back uphill before finding another gate that allowed us to cross Farquhar Road once again and head west on Dulwich Wood Avenue. There were some nice suburban houses about as we took a left fork on Colby Road and continued forward to emerge opposite the station at Gypsy Hill.

There was a little confusion locating Sainsbury Road (we often had to hunt up street signs to be sure we had taken the right turning today) but this was soon discovered paralleling the railroad tracks. It curved to the left and became Bristow Road. At the end of the latter, back in more pedestrian surroundings, we turned right into Whitely Road and, approaching a busy street, crossed it to hunt for an entrance into Norwood Park. There was a graffiti-smeared viewing plaque on a plinth here and we enjoyed identifying famous London landmarks on the skyline. It took a long time for the Lees to agree with me that I had spotted the latest of these, the famous London Eye Ferris wheel.

I wasn’t too certain about the directions to follow next and I think we emerged on the wrong side of a play and picnic area as we began a descent toward Elder Road. It was just as well we had come onto this road a little to the north of where we wanted to be – because Tosh was now desperate to use the loos at the Park Tavern across the street. The Lees went inside while I burrowed into the A-Zed to confirm our location. Inside, I was informed, Tosh was warned not to head for the ladies ­– on the mistaken assumption (again) that she was a man. (See day two of the Roman Way.) The Lees bought two Cokes as recompense for use of the facilities and joined me on the pavement for a stroll down to the junction with Central Hill.

We now headed uphill on a busy highway (Crown Dale), at last reaching a second traffic light where we turned left on Beulah Road. We did a dogleg around a Catholic college and headed west down Gibsons Hill (for once both hill and street). At the bottom was the entrance into Norwood Grove (park). A handsome “Mansion” was the highlight here but as we walked around behind it we could see that some other people were hovering over a fallen comrade; an ambulance arrived to assist a minute later.

We then continued northwest into a stretch of Streatham Common, watching the dogs at play and passing the lovely garden of The Rookery. The parking lot of this place seemed familiar to me; perhaps this is where we brought our own dog to play with those of Marlene and Bimbo Acock all those years ago. A bollard on busy Streatham Common North was our next landmark; we had to cut across the grass without benefit of path to reach it. On the other side of the highway an unmarked alley ­– which we took to be Hill Path, lead us behind houses to Valley Road. Here there was a jog to the right as I searched for a second alley, Russell’s Path. Some local ladies, seeing me pore over my instructions, paused to tell me that I could take the path to the high street and confirmed that this was, indeed, Russell’s Path. A railway line accompanied us on the right as we climbed the steps into Streatham itself.

We crossed over to the station and found more streets, Gleneagle Road and Ambleside Avenue, that lead us up to our last great open space for the day, Tooting Bec Common. It was becoming greyer, though the sun could still be seen low in the thickening sky, and we were getting tired and chilly. When we reached a corner of the common we turned left and found a path just before reaching a railway bridge for a sodden tramp along the rail line. At Bedford Hill (street) we took a dogleg to the left, crossed another railway bridge and turned right ­– with the tracks on our right this time. Harold and I took advantage of this last bit of quiet for a clandestine pee. There were several routes to the end of the common here but it was easy to see how they all funneled beneath two more bridges as we reached Fernlea Road. This we followed into Balham, crossing another busy road to approach the underground station ahead. It was just going on 4:00 and we had walked ten miles.

Down below I asked the Lees for one of their Cokes, but we didn’t have a bottle opener handy. I also asked which of the Northern Line Stations would be a good one for me to use to change onto the Bakerloo Line. They suggested Waterloo and so did a busybody blonde Scandinavian woman who decided to become an underground maven  – since she was planning to do this too. I said goodbye to the Lees when we reached Waterloo but blondie lead me onto the southbound platform of the Bakerloo line (blaming reconfiguration due to the changes in the shape of the Jubilee Line) and we both had to retrace our steps a bit.

I feel asleep for several stops near the end of my journey, but I was glad to wake up in time to make my departure from the tube stop on Elgin Avenue and to plod slowly home after a surprisingly successful late outing. It was just going 5:00 and it was, by now, totally black.

To continue with the next stage of our walk you need:

Day 10: Balham to Richmond