Saturday 9 February 2008

Highgate to Hampstead - 11.7 miles

With prerequisite coffees in hand, Mister Ali, Dr J and I inched our way up Highgate hill, still slightly sleepy-eyed on Saturday morning. The entrance fee to the famed Highgate Cemetery was three pounds each. Dr J was a little surprised one had to pay to visit a graveyard, but I wasn't. Death, to my knowledge, has always been an expense.

While my comrades decided to pay their respects to Marx and other communists buried on site, I went for a wander around the grounds. It was a rather sunny day, which made it more pleasant than spooky.

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The guys pointed this one out to me. I still can't figure it out. Was this a solemn psychoanalytic gimmick to help those left behind to avoid denial? Was this a a blunt way, if someone were to rise from the grave, to let them know their current condition? Or or or...

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I wandered into a little section of the graveyard which turned out to be the children's area. I should have guessed by the little teddy bear shaped headstone. This old lady was pottering around the graves, weeding and planting flowers. She told me that almost ten years ago, she met a Russian man. His son died and was buried here in Highgate, but his father returned to Russia. As it was such a long way for him to come visit the grave regularly (he visits when he can), she took it upon herself to take care of the grave.



My idea of hell actually: To be set in stone forever with a book, and no hands to turn the pages.

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We crested the hill and entered the vast grounds of Hampstead Heath. It was a bit of a family scene, complete with ponds, ducks, children and dogs.

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Some chaps from a wildlife bird society set up a tent with super powered telescopes. They were also helpful in identifying the species of birds, which was very educational for someone like me who thinks a squirrel is wildlife.





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View from Parliament Hill. We clocked 11.7 miles.

Saturday 2 February 2008

Greenwich to the Thames Barrier - 8.36 miles

Mister Ali, Dr. J and I met up near the Cutty Sark in Greenwich. Not much could be seen of the old clipper, as it had recently been damaged by fire and it's presently covered with canvas while undergoing repairs. We're not used to being up this early on a Saturday, so it was necessary to obtain coffees before we embarked on today's trek. The chaps went to Costa, and despite my aversion to Starbucks' saturation strategy, I am rather partial to their soy mocha latte.

The walk was an unusual experience of revisiting familiar locations that evoked memories and yet encountering the new developments. I was part discovering tourist, seeing with fresh eyes, and part familiar local, sharing bits of gossip and information with Ali and Jonny, both of whom had rarely visited the southeast.

Our walk took us through the large sprawling Greenwich Park. with its rolling hills, historic nooks, old monuments and its Royal Observatory where you could stand astride both the eastern and western hemispheres.

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Images of days gone past came to mind. Long languid sunny days lying in the park, pretending to study. Hot afternoons with red wine, barefoot with green grass between toes. Sunday cricket with the barristers against the solicitors, a cheerful thwack against a wicket in the distance. The park seemed cosier then, covered with wildflowers and thick rows of trees. Its tangled corners hinted of historical mysteries.

A short climb up, and the chaps stopped for a bacon butty.



The park is currently cleanshaven in comparison, the grass has been cut, many of the old trees and overgrowth had long been cut away, and concrete paths repaved. One advantage is that there are panoramic views of southeast London.



Back down amongst mortals, we wandered around the town of Greenwich itself, and visited its parish church, St Alfege, which was built on the 11th century site of the martyrdom of Alfege. The old church graveyard was a garden now, its sarcophagi no more innocuous than garden decorations and its ring of headstone faded and smoothed over by the years.

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We made our way round to the Greenwich Tunnel, a footpath that leads under the Thames itself.

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From across the river, I could see the full stretch of the grand Old Royal Naval College, a baroque example of English architecture. Once upon a time, the site held Henry VIII's favourite palace, nowadays, its opulent structures are often used as backdrops in Hollywood blockbusters.



The compound used to be secured when the Ministry of Defence used its grounds. An ex-boyfriend of mine used to work there, so we had passes into the grounds. I remember one rather lovely Saturday playing tennis on the courts on site. These days it's been freshened up and opened to the public for viewing.

Further down the river, we stopped at the Cutty Sark pub, an old favourite of mine, for bangers and mash. Outside the pub, lay a giant anchor, one of the many marine relics strewn around Greenwich. This old pub lies right on the river and has always served great hearty British food. Many birthdays and weekends were spent here.

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As we traveled east along the river, its surroundings became almost unrecognisable as London. A certain length was more industrial and the air took on a sour potency, and round a curve, yachts bobbed cheerfully in the dusk, as if we'd just strolled into a fishing harbour. The sharp spokes of the Millenium Dome were striking against the sky, despite Londoners' ambivalence towards it.



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We ended our 8.36 mile walk almost 5 hours later at the alien looking Thames Barrier, a row of mighty gates that would be raised in case of a flood. From afar, the glowing lights of the barriers make them look like individual heads peering above the waters, up close, these giant steel structures reflected the glow of the setting sun.

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