Blog 16- Part Two To perambulate... 100 year on

Part Two: To perambulate...

When you last heard from me I was in a Merchant Ivory movie.

Oh yes, inspired by the Edwardian weather and my Edwardian home (I seemed to overlook the fact it is stuffed to the rafters with the best of Ikea!) I decided to perambulate my mock village (I seemed to have also overlooked that I live in a Sauff Eiest Lundin suburb) and go walk the streets to gain inspiration and clarity about my place in the world.

In theory this is do-able.

As an Edwardian borough, perambulations were very much a part of town planning. We may be just 15 miles form the city of London BUT we have extensive areas of countryside ranging from ancient woodlands to marchlands and more than 80 parks and gardens which are open to the public. There are several waymarked paths including the world famous green chain walk and the slightly less known Cray Riverway. As an area that first gained interest with the Romans as a place to kick of your sandals and catch breath before marching on to Dover... many historic building dot the landscape built by famous architects like Sir Robert Taylor and we even boast parkland landscaped by the outstanding Capability Brown. Rather than bulldoze the lot and build their villas on the space, the Edwardians incorporated the lot into our little town. The roads deliberately all lead to one or t'other of the local attractions, so one may perambulate with a sense of destination. In fact our local council has been so thoughtful as to name one of these THE HERITAGE TOWN WALK.

So exactly HOW hard could it be?

Well, firstly I'd like to say my timing was particular crap... by about 100 years!

I left the house, closing my stained glass front door (do love those little details on Edwardian houses... no idea what the hell it is supposed to depict but it sure is pretty) and walked down the path to my gate (another nice Edwardian touch...the original gate is still in situ, can't open or close it as time has rusted it into position but it is in fact a wrought iron stile) and sauntered into the dappled sunshine of my perfect spring afternoon.

As my road is hardly a heritage site... it's a main road linking the high street to the turn off to the motorway. But never the less I thought I'd get into my Edwardian mood by looking at the architecture of my neighbours homes en route. After all the Edwardians went out of their way to make each home in some way unique, with different detailing in, for example, the half timbering, the gabling or the stained glass.Ummmmmmmmmmmmmm.... not quite the case on our road. It seems every one (bar me obviously... I let my gate rust) is on a home improvement frenzy. Practically every garden is accessorised with a skip, and inside each one you can see the remains of what once were accentuated gables, chimneystacks, buttresses, and inglenook fireplaces. Everyone seems to be stripping out the old and putting in the new... and that means the Queen Anne shaped houses are now distorted by extensions jutting from the roofs. It means and trace of the Edwardian Arts and Crafts movement, from the neo-georgian swags to the art noveau glass are skip bound. The quirkily placed front doors (the Edwardians put some house entrances at the side), have disappeared into newly built garages and new front doors appear where once a large bay window over looked the front garden. On the subject of which, very few feature any form of gardening, the owners electing for practically and more car space by paving them over. But then as I sauntered towards the start of the heritage trail... I became aware that on these newly tiled spaces lay proudly something I was unaware there could EVER be so much popularity for.... CARAVANS.

W.T.F???

What the hell is it with caravanning??? And WHY oh why would anyone wish to sit in his home with a view over the monstrosity parked where the lawn should be??? Surely if this non-vehicle is of any use it can only be for one or two weeks a year. WHY on earth would one wish to look at it for the remaining 50? And these things are not cheap... I stopped to ask a neighbour about the ugly white protracted triangle that was perched on his paved over lawn... he proudly told me that this was a Fleetwood Hertage 600 CB Fixed Bed Twin Axle model which he picked up at a snip at £5,700! Almost 6grand to never again have sunlight in your front room???

Okay, inspiration was not to be gained by looking at the architecture of my locale. I figured I'd just continue down to the start of the heritage trail and start

my perambulation afresh there.

But there was an even more compelling reason why my time was crap.

Our local council feel that whilst primary school children should vacate the premises at 3.30, their older siblings should depart all local secondary schools at 2.45. Which tied in nicely with my post-Edwardian saunter.

Now I'm not a child hater. I appreciate more than you could ever know that cute babies become cute toddlers who become cute primary school kids who get into big school and become... Teenagers. It’s a right of passage, we all went though it to become the Adults we are today. None but those with particular rose-tinted memories would ever like to return to that uncertain and awkward period of our lives, so we should be sympathetic. But there is something so ... I don't know so yuk! about being on the pavement the same time as the teenagers are walking home from school.

Teenagers do not wish to have their mummy at the gates... I get that. Our local council long ago decided that walking home from school was beneficial to your health 9and the councils budget) so NO they are not going the provide American style school buses. At 2.45.. the walk of the teenager begins.

It was amazing... first there was a hum.. like a distant swarm of bees. All but me seemed to dart towards their homesteads. Caravan Man ...who had been waking lyrical about how he belongs to the Fleetwood caravan owners club and how they get together for Rallies and the like (sorry... mental picture a RALLY involving CARAVANS?? is he SURE!!!... these things have no engines how the hell do you rally drive in a caravan???!!!) Anyway Caravan Man heard the distant buzz and made his excuses and darted indoor with speed. Even the builders on the roof of number 109.. tearing of the gables and smoothing the frontage of the house into a square box... seemed to think that right now was the perfect time to bother the lady of the house for a cup of tea. Cats, who up until now were sunbathing languidly upon cars, or walls or doorsteps seemed to slink beneath vehicles or find a pressing need to find their cat flaps. It was odd.. suddenly it was just me ..alone on the hill ...even the birds seem to stop chattering.

I looked down the hill and saw a black swarm of school blazers moving towards me with purposeful speed. The noise as they came closer was deafening... high pitched squeals of what I assume to be girls and a noise I had previously attributed to geese honking seemed to be issued by boys. The formation did not hold tight, there seemed to be a lot of playful shoving going on so the steadily moving cloud seemed to balloon and contract erratically.

The swarm caught up with me and engulfed me. To most I was invisible, but worse to some I was an object of pity. "Mind the Laydee" one would shout to another who was about to collide with me "Sorry Missus ...he's a bit fick" I'd be offered by way of an appology by a pubesecnt holding back the next unslaught from acne. I noticed a lot of the boys could do with a facial, their skins shiny with oil and red with the ravages of early adolescence. The girls skin was harder to judge being that most of them were startlingly orange... be this ill applied make up or one too many spray tans I could never now. Their eyes like matted spiders legs from over application of mascara and their lips startlingly nude of colour. Haircuts of a zillion types surrounded me, black kids with afros, weaves or complicated plaits, white kids with floppy fringes, spiked up creations or no 2 buzz cuts, asian kids with turbans, long traditional plaits or poor attempts to introduce auburn highlights. The stench of youth and pheromones and relief of recently attained freedom filled the air and my ear drums... then they were gone.

These were good kids. The ones you never read about in the paper, but the vast majority of the kids this country produces. Loud, excitable, tribal and dismissive of all but their own... but good kids. Though I doubt very much my Edwardian counterpart would have ever seen the like!.. or felt the irrational fear I felt when caught up in a crowd of 50-100 of them. These kids meant me no harm, they were on their way home, or to McDonalds and were probably unaware of my presence. The streets belong to them from 2.45-5pm as much as the streets belong to commuters from 6-9am... it was me that was in the wrong place. When they nearly collided with me they did verbally alert each other - and me, to the danger as they perceived it, and I guess they thought they were being quite courteous. Though being referred to as a Laydee or Missus was I suppose to them giving me a sign of respect but it just made me feel old and irrelevant and rather sad.

I bucked up when I approached the Cannons that reportedly fired during the Boar War (the Edwardians ONLY war)... as they mark the start of the Heritage Town Walk. Well... until I got closer and discovered a couple of school girls straddling it a la Cher screaming across to the boys on the otherside of the street that they doubted they had anythin THAT big to slide between their legs. (Do these kids HAVE parents?... If you go to a local school chances are you live locally...what if someone who knows your parents overheard that?!.. mind you try slipping that into conversation... "That reminds me I saw your Saffron yesterday in town" "Really?, did you give her a message for me?" "Actually, No she was too busy shouting at Billy Thomas that his cock wasn't as big as the town cannon"... ummmmm maybe not)

So anyway, the perambulation of the Heritage Town Walk.

From the cannon there is a little sign that says route 75 HTW. If you didn't know (and you should for the council regular drop little leaflets around with Hidden Local Treasures on it... though if they just made the signs in plain English that exercise would not be necessary) you could be forgiven for missing it.

The sign leads onto to path that leads into the formal grounds of a Palladian villa. The Villa (which dates back to the 1700's) was once known as the most significant building at risk in London, but has now been magnificently restored with money from the national lottery. However the grounds have been maintained since King Bertie's time and include a huge lake where sailing, angling and rowing take place and formal and informal gardens.

I began to saunter lakeside in earnest.

Having circumnavigated the lake, I walked through the wooded area and came out in what can best be described as a jungle. Although in keeping with Capability Browns plan most of the park is landscaped to look like the English Countryside, our council has seen ft to leave some area unkempt to 'attract butterflies and allow the germination of wild flowers such as figwort and dog's mercury. The grass is almost waist high.

Oh joy! Here I am 15 miles from the city of London and I am in the country side. Then it happened.

"OI...YOU PERVE...F**K OFF!!"

Yep... they were shouting at me.

It was a couple, aged about mid to late thirties...copulating in the grass. And I had disturbed them... and they (or at least HE...she had the sense to lie low) were very... and I mean VERY angry at me.

And so my perambulations ended with me being chased out of the butterfly reserve by a man who was trying to pull on his trousers whilst giving chase whilst his lady-friend hollered:

"STEVE!!!...STOP...LEAVE IT!"

So......... what have I learnt from my little saunter into the past...

I guess just this... we live in our forebearers homes. We enjoy the space and privacy the Edwardians brought to city living, but we'll do it on our own terms thank you. So if that means removing original features and replacing them with boxed frontages and paved over gardens we will. We like gardens but will keep ours private at the back of our homes and display our wealth in the form of motor cars or unsightly caravans at the front. We are grateful to the Edwardians for universal secondary schooling, but we will slink away like wise cats when our children take to the streets at 2.45 because we are slightly afraid of our own kids... We admire the Edwardians for only getting caught up in one war and keep one of their cannons as a memento, but if it gets used a s giant phallus by adolescent girls, we should be proud of how far we have come since Mrs Pankhurst started the fight for women to have a voice that must be heard. Oh... and to walk in a butterfly reserve after 3pm can mean that you run the risk of coming across someone finding a more modern take on getting some afternoon delight.

But you know what... the sun did shine delicately like a scene from a script by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala... the stained glass did twinkle and the suggestion of suburban respectability was challenged. I think we should all walk around our towns on a sunny spring day; a perambulation really does let you see the signs of the times. So maybe I wasn't 100 years late after all eh?