Mud, Basingstoke, and Tears

We had a weekend away booked. Well, it had started out that Helen had a spa day booked with a colleague from work. It got delayed a couple of times and with Covid still lurking around, her friend didn’t want to make a train journey to get to Basingstoke. (To be fair, that probably isn’t just a Covid thing.)

And so, I was enlisted as a replacement for the spa day. And rather than driving there and back the same day, we tagged a couple of nights either side of it at the local Holiday Inn. I was a bit freaked out to get an e-mail from IHG before leaving the house on Friday morning to say the welcome amenity points had been given, wondering who had checked in on our behalf, but it turned out OK.

On the way over we had decided to visit an English Heritage site – Silchester Roman Fort / Town remains. The website said it may be a bit muddy, so I dragged some old trainers out of the cupboard and slung them in the boot of the car. The path leading to the site was quite muddy, and so I’d tucked my jeans into my socks to prevent splash and rub marks on them as they were clean on.

I needn’t have bothered. We had got around to the North Gate remains, and it had been a bit slippery, but that was only the prelude. Not far after the gate I got some sideways motion on and went down. So much for tucking jeans into socks, I’d have needed socks six feet long.

We carried on progressing our way around the large site, and I was just about to say that I wasn’t sure that this was the kind of lateral flow I was looking for when there was more sideways sliding and down I went for the second time. We were nowhere near half way around and so decided it was probably better to head back.

Only for me to go down for a third time. Now, my knees aren’t great to start with, so lateral sliding isn’t great. Plus being tall and fat it is likely that I registered on the Richter scale each time I went down. It hurts, and trying to get back up looks less elegant than a new born calf trying to stand for the first time would. Additionally, I hate being muddy. So, as I sat on the muddy ground for the third time trying to build up to trying to get back on my feet, I did what any insane person in this situation would have done. I sat there and sobbed for thirty seconds.

Old trainers may not have been the best choice for muddy paths, but I doubt that rugby boots and ski poles could have kept me upright.

Back at the car, I’m thinking it’s fortunate that we were on the way to the hotel, meaning our luggage is in the boot and it meant I could scare the locals by changing into another pair of jeans, and change my coat. Perhaps I would have been better off with the waterproof. I could have just washed that down, but the parka just absorbs the mud.

We found a nice old pub along the way to get some lunch, well at the second attempt (the first had said with some glee that they had stopped serving quarter of an hour before), and had some very nice melted camembert before getting to the hotel sometime after three.

Checking in was overly complicated. I’m not sure what planet the receptionist was from, but it didn’t appear to be Earth. She made it seem like she was doing us a massive favour by finding a double room for us. It must have been difficult when they had more than a hundred rooms, yet seemed to only have about twenty guests for the weekend.

Having dumped the bag we headed back out to wander into the centre of Basingstoke, which we had just driven through on the way to the hotel. There are some preconceptions about what Basingstoke is like. (I’ve been a couple of times for meetings with work, and having gotten to the train station, tech firms’ headquarters were within walking distance, but that was as much as I ever saw.) The main one being that it’s a commuter town that is a concrete and chrome soulless shit hole.

But it wasn’t as bad as all there. There is an old core to the town that has a nice park and some lovely buildings dating back centuries. If you ignore the horribly bland shop fronts and look up, it does look a lot better. It is definitely another look up kind of town, as so many are these days.

We had a good wander around as the light faded before heading back to the hotel to shower and change before going out for dinner.

Helen had booked at Pizza Express, and I’d found that a bus went from near the hotel to near to Pizza Express There was a sign in the bus stop advertising the “Night Rider” ticket – unlimited bus travel after 7pm for £2.50. Which would have been great if the bus we were going to catch wasn’t the last to go past our hotel that night. The bus driver tried to sell us the same ticket, but when asked what bus we could get back to the hotel, she scratched her head and gave us singles instead as there aren’t any.

Pizza Express were actually quick with the food. As if someone had given them amphetamines before their shift. It was good as well, and we probably ate too much as usual. And then when we needed to hurry to pay as the taxi we’d ordered was arriving, usual slowness had returned.

The taxi had a plastic screen installed between the front and back seats. A reasonable idea in these Covid times I suppose. But it did lead to fun and games as I tried to get out of the back of the car without being able to pull myself up by the back of the front seat blocked off by the screen.

The day definitely improved from the mud bath.

We’re All Going On A Christmas Holiday

It’s a good day, our leave has started, we are now on holiday until the new year, eighteen non work days. A lottery win to extend that would be great.

Friday morning, we were off to Brighton for Helen’s full Nuffield Health health check that she had paid for a couple of years ago, via Hayward’s Heath. It was bright sunshine all the way, by the time her assessment was up the fog had started to roll in, and by the end of it we were unable to see the sea.

There was a midpoint as it got cloudy, I was left alone with my brain, with a view out to sea, and wrote this poem whilst I waited.

https://onetruekev.medium.com/waiting-461c8a6b15a1?sk=b866233ce7f65df444679252d6adf6bc

After which we were meeting Liam and Ellie for lunch at The Westbourne, near their house, which meant we had to find somewhere to park. The full rant on this can be found below

Lunch was good though.

Everywhere you (stop) look and listen there is something saying, or someone shouting, ‘get your booster.’ And to be fair the NHS texted me to say there was a walk-in clinic available at the Apple Tree centre on Friday until 1pm. Unfortunately, this text to tell me this was sent at 1.38pm on Friday. I’m currently trying to find a DeLorean that will go at 88mph to get me there in time.

The fog carried on hanging around after that. By the time we’d driven up to London on Saturday afternoon. It was what might have been called a pea souper in the past.

The Saturday night was the Madness and Squeeze gig, there was lots of other app related precursor, the full tale of which is below

We had taken the decision to miss Crawley Town’s home game on Saturday so we would be able to make it up to London for the gig without a mad rush. Only for the Crawley game to be postponed for Covid reasons, so we may be able to see the game (always assuming the muppets in charge in this country don’t lock down venues again due to Omicron).

You see things get stolen or “borrowed” from hotels all the time. But I’d have bet good money on the combination missing from our room never being guessed by anyone. The little holder for toilet rolls – the bit that clips on at either end and spins round – that was gone. The metal bracket it would clip on to was still there, screwed to the wall. And the little glass shelf above the towels. The one they usually put the plastic glasses on in the bathroom. Shelf gone. The two wall mounts with the slots in for the glass to slot into – still there.

It probably says more about the location of the Holiday Inn Express than anything else, but the security was the best of any IHG hotel we’d stayed at. The main door required room key card use to get in when we got back from the gig, and when I nipped across to the shop for drinks after breakfast. It was also needed to use the lift and the stairs. Yes, it’s obvious and simple, but they could do with it at more of their hotels.

On the drive up to Morecambe on the Sunday morning there was very little let up on the fog. M11 – fog. M25 – fog. M1 – fog. M6 – fog. Morecambe – fog. Some fairly light, other patches were thick, some so thick if you had asked me where I was, I could tell you I hadn’t got the foggiest. Yes, I did try catching the fog – I missed (mist). One of the worst places was at the M6 toll booth, coming out of there it is like Wacky Races at the best of time, but when there is fog where you can’t see the sides of the road there it’s like a spooky version of it, almost like Wacky Races meets Scooby Doo.

And the other thing is that it doesn’t seem to matter which lane we get in, it is guaranteed to be the official numpty lane. In the fog, there was a car in front of us trying to pay with their phone, despite it clearly saying card only and that it doesn’t accept Apple Pay or Google Wallet etc. They tried to pay half a dozen times with their phone before using their card. On the way back in the light it wasn’t much better. First there is the lane with the big red X above it that lots of cars were still queuing in until they were told to find another lane. And then there are the muppets who seem to think that lining their car up in the next postcode will make tapping their card easier. There were two in the queue in front of us who ended up hanging out of the car to their waists to reach across to the reader. Probably the same twats who can’t use indicators or who tootle along in the middle lane doing 60. (Someone in Lancashire is not a fan of this, as they have graffitied at least three bridges telling such drivers they were tools.)

Anyway, occasionally we did find ourselves above the fog on higher ground and it was bright sunshine up there. Which was causing the car’s map display to become dark (night mode). So, it went fog – day mode, sunshine – night mode. I’m not sure where the sensor for this is on the car, but it would appear to be fucked.

The first full day in Morecambe saw stops at Matalan, Dunhelm, Home Bargains, and Sainsbury’s. What do these four places have in common? They are all an almighty time suck turning morning into evening. Granted it didn’t seem like five hours. More like five weeks.

In the evening we went for a walk up to the front and along the promenade. No idea if the tide was in. All I could see were lights over the bay somewhere near Barrow-in-Furness.

Tuesday saw a trip to Kirkby Lonsdale, which is covered in the link below.

https://onetruekev.medium.com/a-wander-around-kirkby-lonsdale-a3ad42e5124a?sk=ce253f4256ea32e3a6b184426db4947e

In the evening we headed out for dinner at the Morecambe Hotel, and for the second visit to Morecambe on the trot I nearly killed us all by pulling out in front of a vehicle I hadn’t seen. Nothing to do with the non-stop chatter in the passenger seat. It took a while for my nerves to calm down.

And then it was all over; and we spent most of Wednesday driving home. Although when we got to the M25 all the road signs had the message “Salt Spreading”. Having been up north for a few days, it did make me wonder if this was a new Covid variant affecting Cockneys only. It’s as likely as anything else these days

From Wales to Lancashire

Day 11 of our recent travels.

If anything, we were cutting it finer for breakfast this morning than yesterday, but we had packed and put most of the stuff in the car before getting breakfast. As usual there was more to try and cram into the car than was taken out on arrival. Something about too many giftshops.

It is amazing just how many tat shops there are in Betws. We are doing that souvenir shopping on departure thing. I hadn’t noticed how many there were, well hadn’t taken it in. The only thing that was really different between them was the price, as some of them didn’t seem to realise they were tat shops.

And then it was time to leave Wales. We let the lunatic sat-nav lead us across to England via a strange route full of bears that weren’t bears and turns that weren’t turns. I think she needs drug testing. We stop at a services on the M6 which is rammed. I’m not sure I’ve seen queues to get in quite like this before.

When we arrive at my mum’s, there is a new world record (and not at the Olympics either) as there is at least half an hour between arriving and being offered food. But food does eventually come with the earliest dinner we’ve had in months. After which Helen and I go for a wander around Morecambe.

I do wonder if I’ve walked around with my eyes shut when I’ve been before. Every time. We end up over near the train station, where what used to be Frankie & Benny’s is now an empty shell. Fully deserved if you ask us after their treatment of us on a previous visit to Morecambe. We head toward the Midland and find there is a walk of words along there, one that was installed 15 years ago and that I’ve never seen before, despite having walked across or along it several times.

We get to the front and walk back along it in the general direction of my mum’s house. In doing so I notice other things that were there before, but I’d missed. Like the turrets on the corner buildings either side of West End Road. Like the Battery being closed and boarded up (nearly 10 years). The large church on the corner of West Street being abandoned, with no signs saying what the dedication of the church was.

There is a brief detour onto the beach and over some rocks. Some irregular steps so that the day could count as a day out. And there it is, the now daily fatbit celebration, we can head back to mum’s and relax for the evening.

A Wander To The Watermill

It wasn’t a planned outing, Helen had gone to her mum’s and was meeting friends for dinner later. I’d done a bit of decorating, and it looked OK outside weather wise, so I put some trainers on and tightened the belt to walking mode and headed out, camera in hand.

I decided I was going to make my way to Ifield Watermill for the open day, but I wasn’t going to go the direct route. Instead I cut through the park at the back of the house out onto Malthouse Road, and past the locally listed buildings there.

It would seem the council town planners have run out of imagination, and definitely aren’t channelling the spirit of John Goepel in the naming of the road for the new houses behind Southgate Road. Yes, they were built in what had been gardens of house on Southgate Road, but calling them Southgate Road Gardens shows a real lack of imagination.

I carried on, crossing Brighton Road near the locally listed Park Lodge, up Perryfield Road and through to West Street in the West Street / Brighton Road conservation area, before crossing over the railway, and going up Albany Road, catching the blue plaque as I did so.

I wandered happily through West Green and through the underpass at Crawley Avenue onto The Mardens. The Elim Church Crawley on the corner of Ifield Drive and The Mardens was one of the few I hadn’t taken pictures of in the last year or so. It had used to be the Trinity United Reformed Church, but they left to join with the Pound Hill congregation, and the Elim congregation moved to this church from their former church in Langley Green, which now houses the Noor Ahmadiyya Mosque.

Then my next destination was to see what I could see of Ewhurst Place, one of the former moated houses of Crawley, and a Grade II* listed building. One you only get glimpses of from Ifield Drive. It is well protected all around by the houses on Ifield Drive, Ardingly Close and Climping Road; the latter’s garages offer the best views. There is no view at all of the Grade II listed bridge over the moat in the grounds.

I traipsed around the winding streets between Ifield Drive and Warren Drive taking pictures of all the street signs; ones named after Sussex villages, a theme that carries on all the way up to Ifield train station. One of which was Midhurst Close, the last of those roads with a name that is also the site of a castle in Sussex. There were a number of stragglers to go with the main set in Pound Hill.

Opposite here is Deerswood Court, locally listed flats set in the old grounds of Deerswood Farm, a pre-Tudor mansion demolished in the 1950’s. And next to it is Ifield Community Centre, used as a place of worship by The Salvation Army and the Powerhouse Revival Centre.

Crossing over Warren Drive I come to Ifield Parade, one I’ve passed a few times, but somehow it doesn’t seem as big as I remember and wonder whether I just have Tilgate Parade embedded in my mind.

I stop to get a soft drink. It’s actually a lot hotter than it had looked when I left the house and I’m quite warm and feeling a bit lobster like. I check my phone to find Helen’s dinner had been cancelled, and so arrange to meet her at the Watermill.

What is now closer to being a trudge than a walk continues. I cut through to the Rusper Road to make my way along to the Watermill. In doing so I pass (and photograph) several Grade II listed buildings. The first of which is Turks Croft. Then there is Brook Cottage.

This section of Rusper Road has a lot of nice houses and the road isn’t too busy at this time, but there is the danger that proposed housing in the vicinity could change that. (Plus, I’ve never had to walk along here during rush hour when it’s the only road in and out of Ifield West.)

I get to the car park for the Watermill ahead of Helen, and so I take the opportunity to get a couple of photos of the Grade II listed Ifield Watermill, and the privately-owned Grade II listed Ifield Mill House.

We had a good visit to the Watermill, which I’ve written about separately, and then I was glad to get a lift home as it was far too warm to walk all the way back again.

This is the words only version, the picture laden version is on Medium, the link is below.

https://onetruekev.medium.com/a-wander-to-the-watermill-a7f32a4c05d0

A Trip To The Museum

I paid a visit to the museum on Friday 21st May. I am a member and had been a couple of times between lockdowns last year. Although most of it is the same, the main exhibition space upstairs changes periodically, and it is worth popping back on a regular basis to see what the current exhibition is. I will touch on the current exhibition (at the time) later.

Although I have been before, Helen hadn’t. Well, not recently, the last time she had gone to the Crawley Museum it had been at Goffs Park. Even with having been before, I find there is always something else I notice that I didn’t on the previous visit.

Wandering around, the museum is deceptive in that it initially looks quite small, but the way the space is set up on both floors, and how the exhibits are laid out, it crams a lot in and it seems to be a lot bigger than you first think. The ground floor deals with the history of The Tree, both the building the museum is housed in, and the actual tree it took its name from, and then takes Crawley history from the Victorian era to the modern day.

It has some of the original war memorial plaques (others having been stolen), that are replicated on the entrance to the Memorial Gardens from County mall. With my love of churches I am drawn to the Chapel sign, and of course to old street signs.

The wall around the stairs up to the first floor have a number of great photographs by Jeff Pitcher, where he is holding an old photograph in the foreground of the modern view of the same spot.

Upstairs, beyond the main exhibition hall, in a series of old, Tudor beamed rooms, is the more ancient history of Crawley from Iron Age times through to the Georgian era. I hadn’t noticed the little cupboard in the corner of the furthest room from the stairs before. It made a great place to hide so I could pop out and surprise Helen. Yes, I am still a very big child.

There is ongoing work to a new display, with a reconstruction being made to show Crawley High Street in Tudor times. It wasn’t complete when we visited, but what had been done to that point looked good, and I look forward to revisiting and seeing the finished version.

With the museum only having re-opened, the fact that the music exhibition was going to end the following week, was the main reason for this visit, and the main difference from my previous visits. I knew The Cure were famously from Crawley, and that Chico was, but it was surprising to learn about some of the other acts shown in the exhibition.

What I don’t know is whether what has been going on since is a coincidence, or whether the exhibition has prompted me to be on the lookout for musical links to Crawley.

On leaving the museum that Friday afternoon I soon found myself in Oxfam and browsing in their music selection I found the 7” single by Terry Dactyl & The Dinosaurs – “Sea Side Shuffle”; something I had been reading about less than an hour before. At 49p I couldn’t resist buying it and adding it to my wall of vinyl at home.

Then on Bank Holiday Monday, Radio 2 were doing all day Popmaster, and one of the questions was “Which one hit wonder had a 1972 hit with Sea Side Shuffle”. I’m not sure I’d have known the answer ten days before, and the contestant certainly didn’t. Other questions on the day asked about The Cure, Ms Dynamite, and Chico.

Speaking of The Cure, Mojo (the music magazine) had given away a cover CD called “I Wish I Were You” in April, which was a collection of covers of The Cure’s songs. Although I’d had the CD for a while, I was only really listening to it at the end of May. The track that caught my attention was one called “I Don’t Know”, which I didn’t recognise as a Cure song, but it was a hip-hop track using “Lullaby” as a sample. I was quite taken by the song and looked at who it was by to find it was Akala – Ms Dynamite’s younger brother – and another who I had read about in the exhibition. Again, I hadn’t really heard about him until reading the stuff in the exhibition. I went away and listened to some more of his tracks and now have bought his first two albums.

It’s possible all of this would have happened anyway, but I was certainly more aware of it all because of my trip to the museum.

And of course, any trip to any museum anywhere ends with me in the gift shop. I was quite restrained this time having spent a lot of money on my last visit, but I did manage to get a copy of John Goepel’s “How I Chose Crawley’s Street Names”, something to help me in my street sign photo taking obsession.

Poetry In Motion

Friday was a lovely sunny day, the glorious sunset the night before suggested it would be, and it didn’t disappoint. It was another day for wandering, and we parked up in the Grattons Park car park at the top of St Mary’s Drive. There were quite a few dog walkers there, although there was a lot more talking than walking going on.

We headed away from the park and ambled up and down the local streets as I compiled pictures of all the street signs in the little estate of poets. Yes, I was looking for a Tillotson sign, but it must have moved! (I did have my coat, but I had resorted to carrying it by now as it was a bit warm.)

This is an old stomping ground (quite literally) of mine with it being sat between where I use to live in Wakeham’s Green and my old office on Hazelwick Drive. There were many different ways through to use to reduce the boredom of the walking commute. We walked past the spot on Park Way, close to the junction with St Mary’s Drive where my knee gave up the ghost the first time back in 2010, throwing me to the floor in both agony and embarrassment. Marvell Close was where friends lived and there were frequent visits there.

Once all the signs were snapped, we crossed Worth Park Avenue and went into the Moat. A small woodland and water area, where both English Heritage and The National Trust lay claim to looking after parts of. It is a lovely oasis of calm, and the moat has houses backing onto it from three sides, with only the footpath to the east of it accessible to the public. For more information about this and other moated manors in Crawley, then go to Ian Mulcahy’s website

http://iansapps.co.uk/oldbritain/moats.html

Where there are many great informative pages about Crawley’s history, and which have been an inspiration for me to do these walks of discovery.

To north side of the moat is Barnwood, a private road, full of buildings of character. To the south and west are Mount Close and Moat Walk which also have properties that back onto the moat, but which can’t be seen through the trees surrounding the moat and on the island in the middle.

We come out of the little sanctuary onto Dene Tye, part of a number of streets full of large well-appointed houses. The triangle formed by Worth Park Avenue, Crawley Lane and Balcombe Road is filled with such houses, and as mentioned before I would walk around these streets, probably looking quite suspicious, looking at the houses and dreaming of moving here.

From there we made out way up to Worth Park. When I used to live near it, it was still called Milton Mount Gardens, and hadn’t had all the wonderful restoration done. On entry to the park the magnificent Ridley’s Court catches your eye.

This was a later addition to the Worth Park Mansion as a stable block, and now they are the grandest building around, a Grade II listed one at that.

The mansion was demolished in 1968 with the seven-storey block of flats that stand on the site of the mansion replacing it. It always seemed a strange place to build such a large (and relatively) high rise block of flats, and they do seem somewhat incongruous, especially now that the lottery heritage funded restoration work has taken place. Yet I don’t dislike them, and I wouldn’t mind having the view those on the west side of the building have. (If not their current problems with gas leaks, Scottish Gas Networks vans were still parked outside and working there.)

We stop for a coffee at the little café in a horsebox that sits between Ridley’s Court and the covered Camellia Walk, taking a drink only, and managing to resist the allure of the wonderful looking chocolate cake and interesting sandwiches on display. With it being a sunny day there were a lot of others out, and the little café was doing a roaring trade.

Whilst drinking we carried on passing through the formal gardens, along the balustrade and down the grand steps to the fountain and pond. The gardens were laid out in the 1880s by the firm of James Pulham and Sons, the James Pulham who did the work being the third of four of that name to head up the company. There is a blue plaque to commemorate his work, and three parts of his work in the original grounds of the mansion also have Grade II listed status.

The fountain is one of them. We walk down over the Ha Ha (yes really, that is its name) and across Somerville Drive to the lake. In the lake is the second of the listed items, this little islet made from Pulhamite.

Pulhamite is a manmade stone that the firm James Pulham and Sons invented and used at a number of sites they worked on, including Newstead Abbey and Battersea Park. It has been found to have been made of sand, Portland cement, and clinker over a core of rubble and crushed bricks. It is difficult to tell that it isn’t real rocks. The firm were one of the stars of their day, and other examples of their work still survive at Sandringham and Buckingham Palace.

I knew there was another example of Pulhamite work somewhere in Worth Park, but on Friday afternoon it eluded us. Instead, we walked back up the hill in the direction of the flats and past this old horse chestnut tree, fenced off to try and prevent people climbing on it, and then on to St Catherine’s Road.

This was me collecting more road signs, with all the ones here been taken from Oxbridge colleges, some from Oxford, others from Cambridge and some that are at both.

The road meanders around and we found ourselves walking towards Peterhouse Parade (a Cambridge one), past the wide-open expanse of Grattons Park, where football training was in full effect, with footballs outnumbering people by at least three to one.

I rarely went in the Tavern in the years I lived that way, it would normally be the Snooty after work. But I did frequent the row of shops on a weekly basis, especially getting an illicit burger or kebab from Real Barbeque whilst I was supposed to be out walking.

Just along from the shops are 55-59 Grattons Drive, locally listed, they were part of a farm that would have been on the Montefiores’ Worth Park estate. Next to it and across the road are another couple of interesting looking buildings that have the look of being from a similar period.

From here it is a case of walking back to the car, taking the path between the school and bowling club. They rerouted the stream away from this part of the field a number of years ago, and it does look as if the water wants to have its old path back as it is quite boggy there still. There are even more dog walkers in the car park when we get back there, and again there is much more talking than walking taking place. Possibly involving the same people.

Having not found the remaining Pulhamite listed structure is needling me when I get home, so I get the full coordinates of it and find it was hidden behind the 1930s house that stands between the flats and Balcombe Road. If we had gone as far as Balcombe Road, then we would have been able to see it.

And so Saturday saw me head back over there to get some photos of it. It was another lovely sunny day; the café was doing brisk business again. I’d walked over from town and gone up the wide expanse of Milton Mount Avenue to get there.

Walking through the flat’s car park meant I passed the community centre, which is in the grandest looking community centre building, something that had passed me by the day before.

Once there I stepped foot into Wakeham’s Green for the first time since I moved out nearly seven years ago. I took photos of various street signs again as I completed a loop of the estate. This included the one where I had lived for what seemed like thirty years between 2008 and 2014.

Continuing around I came to the Heathfield store, a law unto itself for opening times, and a constant source of frustration when trying to get newspapers if it was within half an hour of its advertised closing time, as they would already have been batched up for return.

The community centre next to it is more in common with those found anywhere else in Crawley apart from Milton Mount. The next little bit of the estate was another collection of themed signs, this time bombers.

Plus, I always liked the sound of the word Nimrod. I think it’s a great word to use as an insult, and I had a picture from the side of Nimrod Court as my Facebook profile picture for a couple of years.

Back out on Balcombe Road I head back along to Worth Park Avenue, realising, probably for the first time ever that the grand looking building behind the wall on the other side of the road is, of course, the back of Ridley’s Court. It’s amazing how disconnected images can be when viewing the same place from different angles.

I turn to head down Worth Park Avenue, but in a nod to a past life of living in Pound Hill, I cheat and wait for the bus into town, having been out longer and later than intended. My fatbit has done its little wrist dance again, and its time to go home and have the usual Saturday night curry.

To Three Bridges and Back

After a Friday afternoon walk around Lowfield Heath, I was back out walking Saturday afternoon, this time by myself. I was aiming in the general direction of Three Bridges, but not taking the most direct route. Coming out of the back of Southgate, I walked past Malthouse Farmhouse. Another building tucked away, and one that is up for potential local listing in May as Crawley Borough Council discuss 6o suggested buildings for listing.


I crossed over to near the Library and had a quick walk along Telford Way, just because it was there, and coming back I looked at the library longingly. Ever since lockdown started I’ve been missing my bi-monthly creative writing group sessions, and the one coffee a fortnight I would have after the session. I’ve done a few zoom writing sessions, but they aren’t the same, I suppose it is the one thing I miss the most in these strange times.


From here I took a walk all the way up and down Spindle Lane, which isn’t much to look at, but is interesting in how these industrial / commercial areas look as if they’ve been thrown together with all the different styles and building materials used.


As I was passing I took a detour around Commonwealth Drive. I’d never taken the time to have a walk around it. There is a mixture of buildings in there, not just the flats I’ve seen from passing it countless times in the car or on the bus. And it’s bigger than it appears from passing it in traffic as well. There must be getting on for a thousand properties in the area.

I carried on past the Harvester and the Holiday Inn, a place I stayed a few times when I started work down here before I found a permanent place to live, but the American Diner I used to get my evening meals in is long gone. I carried on past Sutherland House and then made a right along the footpath up to the south end of Stephenson Way. Yet more industrial units, but right at the end is the Crawley Swarna Kamatchi Amman Temple.


A place of worship in the middle of an industrial area next to the wonderfully named (being on Stephenson Way) Stockwell Centre. One converted from an industrial unit, as opposed to St Michael’s and All Angels in Lowfield Heath whose houses were all replaced by the industrial units that surround it.


I walk all the way down Stephenson Way and out onto Haslett Avenue East. Across the road is the newly painted Three Bridges Free Church. And on the outside of the wall of the electric company’s yard is a blue plaque to the woman the road is named after.


I stop for refreshments at Charlies, home of the Scooby Burger, where the guy serving me tells me that they aren’t currently open 24/7, only from 5am to 11pm, as if he’d taken a look at my size and girth and decided that I was the right type of person who’d be turning up at three in the morning for something unhealthily fattening. To be fair if I still lived around the corner in Maunsell Park I probably would be.


I walk up Hazelwick Avenue, and past Tesco going to the furthest point of my travels today. It is to a building I’ve walked near to - especially for six weeks when I “lived” at the Ramada - and driven past the end of Hazelwick Mill Lane it sits on numerous times. Hazelwick Grange is a Grade II listed building, believed to date from the early seventeenth century, and was a farmhouse that sat to the north of the mill pond that covered the area the tennis club and Tesco’s now sit.


I used the underpass to get across Hazelwick Avenue and meandered through tree related named streets back down the the conservation area of Hazelwick Road. A mixture of terraces, semi-detached, cottages and detached houses from the late nineteenth century. And at the top, just before the end of the road is the locally listed 107 Hazelwick Road, the “substantial” detached villa the Victorian-era developer built for his family.


I turned into North Road and made my way down to get some pictures of the row of nineteenth century artisans’ cottages that run along the east side of the road. This row of much altered cottages are locally listed. Meanwhile of the other side of the road, from a similar period, is another row of impressive, but not listed buildings.


I make an about turn to head back up to a footpath through to the top of New Street, which seems a misnomer now that it is one of the oldest streets in the extended Crawley new town. Along here there are yet more late nineteenth century cottages. Upon one of which is a blue plaque, this one to the author Richard Marsh who used to live there. 


As I was taking the photo the owner of the house was repointing the brickwork of his front wall and jokingly said he’d have to charge me for the photo. We started a socially distanced conversation and he asked me how many blue plaques I’d found, and when I mentioned the one at Tilgate Lake he told me an interesting tale. He said he knew the children of the Campbell family when they owned the lake before Crawley Borough Council bought it, and he used to go swimming in it, “before anyone else in Crawley did”. 


Further along New Street opposite the junction with Mill Road (Cross Road on the 1909 map) is the former Spiritualist Church. Another building up for discussion for locally listing, but one that the inspectors couldn’t get around the back of to be able to verify some of the claims in the submission for listing.


Across the road at the end of New Street is the former Barclays Bank, another locally listed building.


After I got back from the walk I read in the Observer that the site just to the east of this of the former TSB bank has received initial planning permission to be turned into 49 flats. Though my mind boggles at how they are going to cram that many into what isn’t a massive space, and where the hell they are going to park.


Around the corner on Three Bridges Road is another row of locally listed buildings - 215–223. Again, these date from the late nineteenth century and have the gabled central section. This section of Three Bridges Road has a number of impressive looking buildings, two pubs, and a Jehovah Witness’s Kingdom Hall.


I continued back towards town along Three Bridges Road, full of large houses in differing styles, two of which are locally listed. 89 and 91 Three Bridges Road are thought to have been farm cottages from when it was all agricultural land between Crawley and Three Bridges prior to the new town plan.


From here it wasn’t far back into the town centre. I had one more photograph to take. I moved to Crawley in 2006 on a TUPE transfer when the company I work for took their payroll back in house. Ten years ago they had seven offices in Crawley, with divestments that reduced to three, two of which had been closed in the last few years. The last of the seven, and the one I’ve been mainly based in for the last ten years closed at the end of 2020, and when lockdown in over I’ll be commuting to Portslade. 


Of the seven I have worked in six of them whilst I’ve lived in Crawley, and I passed them all today. The first five in Three Bridges weren’t done intentionally, but to complete the set the last one in the town centre was.
I had only meant to pop out for a stroll, but ended up walking further than the previous day, although without happening upon any icy cold swamps. Tomorrow will be a rest day for writing these walks up.

Poles Apart

Underwear. That’s how the latest wander to find historic Crawley buildings started this time. Helen had an order to pick up from Next, so I thought that County Oak would be a good place to park up and start to explore from. Of course it is a different County Oak from the one that appeared on the map at the turn of the twentieth century.

We got out on County Oak Way and headed into the mish mashed styles of the industrial units taking a somewhat overgrown and almost hidden path between office buildings and storage units where high barbed wire fences, metal grilles and occasional fire exits lined either side until we come out into a car park and turn a corner to be faced with this.

County Oak Cottage is hidden away at the very end of the industrial estate, dating from 1705, it is thought to have been a conversion of an even older barn, and is a Grade II listed building, converted to offices, with a somewhat sympathetic extension to the west side of it. Peeking around the corner of the picture above is a more modern, but also Grade II listed building.

Oak Cottage has been much modernised, but originally dates from the later half of the eighteenth century. Both sat on the edge of what is Lowfield Heath, all open land when they were built.

The more modern map I have in my pocket shows there is a footpath north from these buildings up to Poles Lane. And it is true, there is a gap in the fence and what must be a pleasant path to walk across the adjacent field in the summer. Only it isn’t summer, and with the most recent thaw and rains, the path is more stream that anything else. The whole field is like a marsh with tuffets of grass offering points of apparent solid ground amongst the surrounding quagmire. Only there is no substance to the grass and soon I am ankle deep in shockingly icy water. It will take an hour after I escape from the swamp for my feet to return to having any real sense of feeling. One of the pitfalls of not being able to get on with walking boots and only feeling comfortable walking anywhere in trainers.

Once across the field we join a more substantial path that comes across from London Road to Poles Lane, one where there are at least some solid parts to use to avoid the puddles. There is only open land to the north of this path and that whole parcel of land between London Road in the east, Poles Lane in the west, north of the footpath and south of Charlwood Road used to be Cheals’ Nurseries.

And this footpath we walk on had used to form the border between West Sussex and Surrey, with Lowfield Heath being in Surrey until the reorganisation of borders in 1990, bringing it under Crawley Borough Council’s control.

Poles Lane is a much wider track, which it needs to be for the stream of cars to be able to get to and from the houses along it. It is surprisingly busy for a road to nowhere with only ten houses along its length. We head north along Poles Lane first passing first Poles Farm.

Which can only be seen from a distance between the trees. The barn in the grounds in a Grade II listed building from the seventeenth century.

Closer to the road (well lane) is a more modern, but dilapidated brick structure, overgrown and better hidden despite being almost next to us.

Next along, at the end of its own drive and small field is Spikemead Farmhouse, which dates from 1604. The run of lovely old buildings is somewhat spoiled by the utilitarian Thames Water building with a ramshackle tourer sat in its car park. A couple of later period cottages are right on the lane just before getting to Charlwood Road, but the building that is the most interesting is mainly hidden from the rear, and it requires a short walk along Charlwood Road to get to it.

Charlwood House is a huge building, Grade II* listed, dating from the early seventeenth century. And although it has a car park and openings to the west side of it, pictures were taken of the higher levels only, seeing as it now houses a day nursery.

To the south side and behind a fence is Lowfield Hall. Originally built as a barn in the early seventeenth century to serve Charlwood House it was extended in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries converting the original timber build to brick panelled walls, it became a residential property in the 1960s/70s.

We turned around to get back to Poles Lane and the follow it out at the other end. There is only a short stretch of Charlwood Road to negotiate, but it has no footpaths, and there was a sudden influx of traffic. None of which bothered to slow down in the slightest, and most didn’t even move over to the middle of the road to pass us, instead flying past with wing mirrors only millimetres away from us. Forgetting the highway code entirely in that pedestrians are listed first and have right of way.

As we passed Spikemead Farmhouse a car turned in and buzzed at the gate. I’m not sure what was being said but somehow have an imagined conversation in my head now.

“Hello, who is it?”

“It’s me Tarquin, open the gate.”

“Who’s me?”

“Don’t be such a prat, it’s Jemima, your wife.”

“Can you prove that?”

“What do you mean can I prove that?”

“Have you got an ID?”

“What do I need ID for, I live here.”

“If that were true you wouldn’t have needed to buzz to get in.”

“Tarquin, stop pratting around and open the damn gate before I get cross.”

“Sorry, no ID, no entry, thanks for passing by.”

“Tarquin? Tarquin? I’m going to bloody well kill you when I get in.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m not opening the gate.”

After my little imagination detour, we get to the point where the tarmacked road stops and it becomes a pot holed track. At the end of the straight just after the footpath we had originally come in from, Poles Lane turns right and meanders for a bit, on the next corner is another Grade II listed building.

Originally from the late Tudor period, it was extended in the mid nineteenth century is similar materials to the original. Poles Lane comes to a halt for us with the sharp turn into the entrance to Amberley Farm.

There are two footpaths either side of a stream, and not sure which to follow we took the left one as a group of teenage boys on bikes had taken it. It wasn’t a great choice, and I’m not sure how they managed to get through the thick mud, over the pronounced roots of the surrounding trees and under their low hanging branches, as they were all difficult enough for us walking.

The path popped out at the back of the Cherry Lane playing fields, somewhat waterlogged themselves. We crossed the field and turned in Langley Walk, passing as we did Langley Green Farmhouse. An eighteenth century brick cottage, which is yet another Grade II listed building. As is Langley Grange which sits further west along Langley Lane, and which dates from the early seventeenth century.

Back in relative civilisation I took a number of pictures of road signs on various themes, but without completing any set (this will require another trip), as we made our way to Langley Green Parade.

And as Helen got some soft drinks, I had a quick scoot around to add to my picture collections of pubs. With the Dr Samuel Johnson, which I will forever misname since someone told me they called it the Samuel L Jackson.

Then on to places of worship, the snappily titled Voice of Deliverance Full Gospel Church of God, which had used to be the Church of England parish church of St Leonard’s. It also runs with the name of Igreja de Deus for its Pentacostal congregation. Next to it in the Anderson Shelter lookalike former church hall of St Leonards is the Sri Lankan Muslim Welfare Association Crawley.

As we made our way up Martyrs Avenue on the way back to County Oak it would have been remiss not to take a short detour in to Old Martyrs, as Helen hadn’t seen it before.

And then it was back to the car, food shopping and home.

Am I Really Still In Crawley

The weekends come so quickly in lockdown, and it is Saturday again before we know it. Snow is promised for the weekend, so when it looks like reasonable weather outside, we decide to head out for a walk again. Apart from the three pubs drinks have been partaken in, which we will pass on our route, it is another part of Crawley that I haven’t walked around. And the Tinsley Green and Fernhill areas are parts of Crawley that most wouldn’t even realise fall under Crawley Borough Council’s remit.

We park up near Charlie’s (in Manor Royal, not the home of the Scooby Burger at Three Bridges Station), and walk the hundred or so yards away from where we were heading to the Grade II listed building tucked away in Manor Royal – Little Orchards.

Originally from the sixteenth century, it has been built on and extended at various points since then, and it has a nice end chimney that leans at an interesting angle.

A quick turn about follows, and we turn onto Radford Road and go over the railway and down to the Greyhound.

A locally listed building from the 1930’s, it is famous for holding the world marble championships, to which there is not only a Blue Plaque on its walls, but also a red Famous Grouse one as well.

We walk around the side and into Tinsley Green around the back of it. Up on the first floor at the back is what looks to be a series of marquee type tent structures, as if they are preparing the area to be a balcony area when they can eventually reopen some time in the late spring early summer.

Next to the pub is Greyhound Cottage, another locally listed building, this one dating from the 1780s.

On the other side of the rough track that is Tinsley Green is Cherrytree Cottage, a Grade II listed building dating from the seventeenth century.

We walk up to the end of the track getting there as a train breaks the silence running north just in front of us. There are a lot of nice houses here and two to our left as we turn and head back to the main road are Newbridge and Zell cottages, originally from the 18th century, but altered since, they are weatherboarded and have slate roofs.

A new footpath can be seen heading across what is left of the fields behind Tinsley Green, over towards Forge Wood, but we head straight ahead along Radford Road, and on the west side of it, the side without any pavements are three Grade II listed buildings in a row.

First up is Brookside, from the mid seventeenth century,

Then it is Oldlands Farm House, which dates from the early seventeenth century, although it looks more modern.

Finally, is Radford Farmhouse. Older than its two neighbours, it is from the sixteenth century, thought specifically from the 1550s. It is the second of two remaining thatched cottages in Crawley, following on from Green Lane Old Cottage that we had walked past and written about two weeks ago.

The rest of Radford Road has a mish mash of styles of houses and bungalows in varying states of upkeep. Halfway along this stretch is one house named Border Cottage, which going back just over thirty years ago would have been an accurate description as the border to Surrey would have been here until it was reset in 1990 to include all the land west of the M23 and south of the M23 spur to Gatwick Airport (and the Airport itself) within Crawley Borough Council and so into West Sussex.

We turn onto Balcombe Road heading north, passing a whole line of what look to be 1930s builds, mainly gated, I suppose mansions would be an accurate term. The one that stands out amongst the long stretch of house envy is the yellow one.

The houses stop and there is open land either side of the road, most of which is waterlogged, with poor soggy donkeys out in the fields trying to find a raised dry bit of land to avoid the mud pits. Empty, closed, and barricaded former airport parking runs down one side of the road, and we can see the Marriott hotel building, which unknown at this point is where we are heading. The road becomes national speed limit along here and its difficult to ascertain which is more dangerous to us, the speeding traffic flying past, or the inconsiderate, impatient joggers trying to push us into the road or ditch despite us changing to walking single file to give them space on the narrow footpath.

We turn on to Buckingham Gate, a couple of hundred yards away from where the M23 spur runs over the Balcombe Road marking the end of Crawley. To our left is the massive Schlumberger House.

Now I’m not a big fan of 1980s brick-built behemoths, but the way this one has been built, and the grounds around it landscaped makes it look an impressive structure, and as if it would be a great location to have as an office. The various terraces all have greenery growing in them, which softens the whole look of it.

Beyond the building, and in the grounds of the Marriott are the two co-joined Tudor houses that I wanted to see most of all on this walk.

Wing House, from the mid sixteenth century, it had used to be the airport staff social club until 2006.

And Edgeworth House, slightly older from c1520s.

Both sit surrounded by paths and landscaping for the hotel, but both have the appearance of being criminally neglected.

I’m not sure who owns the buildings, but it would appear to be the hotel, seeing as Edgeworth House is rammed full of unused tables and chairs; and if so then I can’t understand why they aren’t a) taking better care of the fabric of the buildings (broken windows, peeling paintwork etc), and b) making full use of their history.

I know that there are a lot of hoops to jump through to use statutory listed buildings for any new purpose, but there are plenty of examples where it has been done to great effect in other parts of the country. Not only that but tourists, especially Americans would lap the Tudor history perspective up.

Mini rant over.

We head back out to Balcombe Road and turn south until we get to Fernhill Road and head along into Fernhill hamlet. The first buildings we come to are those of Fern Court Farm, where this nineteenth century brick barn is adjoined by more modern and more ramshackle buildings.

Further along is the wonderfully named Donkey Lane along which are two Grade II listed cottages. The first of which is the imaginatively named Old Cottage dating from the late seventeenth / early eighteenth century, and which is undergoing running repairs.

And then further along is Lilac Cottage, a bit more modern, dating as it does from the late eighteenth century.

Just to the left of the junction Fernhill Road has with Peeks Brook Lane is the former Baptist Touchwood Chapel, a locally listed building, which still shows its cross and date (1885) on the gable, but is now a private house.

We walk up to the end of Peeks Brook Lane, passing as we do Poplars, a nineteenth century locally listed building whose photo I thought I’d taken wasn’t on my camera; and the final resting place of the Anthill Mob’s charabanc.

The lane carries on under the M23 spur, and the hundred yards or so from under the bridge to the point where it changes from road to track sees the council responsible for it change from Crawley to Tandridge and then to Reigate and Banstead. If I were Usain Bolt, I could be in three council’s jurisdictions in ten seconds, but I’m not, and I don’t bother. Instead, we head back south and pass Gatwick House.

Originally from the 1870s it has its castellated clock tower; it was extended in the early twentieth century in a neo-Georgian style and has been extended substantially since then in a variety of styles. Next to it is Royal Oak House, a grand 1880s house and substantial grounds which again inexplicably I don’t appear to have the photos I was sure I’d taken of it. A road disappears to the east over the motorway and on the other side of it are the Pullcotts Farm Cottages, two brick-built cottages of uncertain age, but are probably at least nineteenth century.

Just before the main road (the modern Antlands Lane) is the old Antlands Lane, well the western part of it as the old road was cut in two by the coming of the motorway. At the end before the fence for the motorway, in the distance along its drive is Teziers Farmhouse, a Grade II listed building from the seventeenth century with additions from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

We head back towards Balcombe Road, taking a last detour in Fernhill to get some views of Burstow Hall, a locally listed building from the mid nineteenth century, formerly part of Burstow parish until the re-bordering in 1990, when it was absorbed by Crawley. We had caught glimpses of it as we’d walked down Peeks Brook Lane, and from the neighbouring garden centre. It is another impressive structure hidden away from all but the most inquisitive eyes.

On Balcombe Road we cross over Radford Road and have another flurry of locally listed buildings. To the east of the road is the Cottage in the Wood, built in the 1930s in the picturesque style.

Then there is the Parson’s Pig. The back has had the hotel added in an attempt at a sympathetic style, but it is the front old pub part of the building from the nineteenth century in the Arts and Crafts style that gets the listing.

And a little bit further along is the eighteenth century The Open Door, its upper story dark weatherboarding and slate roof all that can be seen behind the substantial hedge.

I miss the path that would have taken me towards the Grade II listed Toovies Farmhouse as we carried on along Balcombe Road, with the old-style house on the corner with Steers Lane on one side

And this lovely green house on the other.

Then we are at Heathy Ground Farmhouse, now a pub, but a Grade II listed building (see what could be done with one if they put their mind to it for Wing and Edgeworth houses), from the sixteenth century with a nineteenth century wing added.

We cross over and into the woods along a new winding path added as part of the build of Forge Wood phase two.

The crematorium building can be seen through the trees to the south as we walk along and pop out amongst the new builds of Forge Wood. I take a few snaps of road signs, not knowing if there is a theme going on here, but I have some now with the very fetching magenta coloured Forge Wood name. Although there looks like there could be some naming controversies going on already as part of the district name is already being peeled from some of the signs.

Out of new build land we are on Steers Lane and as we approach its junction with Radford Road, we pass the last of the listed buildings for the day, the Grade II listed Tinsley Farmhouse from the eighteenth century, and its ramshackle wooden outbuilding.

From here it is a stagger back up over the railway track and into Manor Royal and to the car. My fatbit had had an exciting day buzzing my arm to notify me of 10,00 steps (my daily target), and the first time I’d hit 20,000 and 25,000 in a day since getting it. It may be glad, though I’m not sure my knees feel the same way. They will get a few days off before the next route march as snow stops play.

Picture laden version is on my Medium pages at the link below.

https://onetruekev.medium.com/am-i-really-still-in-crawley-ab221714c146

A Pint of the Black Stuff

Another day, another wander around Crawley. I’ve been living in Crawley for nearly fifteen years, and this is the first time I’m going to be walking around Broadfield. I’ve been to the Barton a few times, but always on the bus.

This time I walk down to K2 and then across the road and behind the line of trees in to Broadfield Park. A lovely space hidden away only by the trees down the side of the dual carriageway, something I’ve missed the countless times. And across the park is Broadfield House, a wonderful Grade II listed building from the 1830s and extended thirty years later.

It feels hidden away again, and in many of the walks I’ve done in the last year, searching out historic buildings there is a common theme in that they are at the periphery of our vision. It makes me think of China Mieville’s “The City And The City”, where we are almost trained not to see the old historic parts of Crawley as the residents of Beszel are conditioned not to see Ul Qoma which shares the same space. There is an expectation that, as a new town, there is no history in Crawley; something I was probably guilty of thinking when I moved here.

I moved on from Broadfield House and made my way over to Woodmans Hill, snapping away at more road signs, and I walk up the hill with a long high red brick wall on the other side of the road until there was a gap and a road into the estate behind the wall. I was particularly after more road signs and this area had a number of London based names.

What I didn’t know was that this whole estate lying between Woodmans Hill and Coachmans Drive is a Guinness Trust estate, which did explain the naming of Guinness Court, and other names where the roads in this mini estate aren’t named after London Parks: Kensington, St James, Regents, Hampstead, Finsbury & Highgate (a park now overshadowed by its more famous cemeteries next to it). I spent quite some time wandering around trying to find a sign for London Fields House, only to find a map of the estate on its estate community centre which indicated where it should be, only for me to find that it has been renamed as Newfield House.

Stonebridge is both the name of a London estate which is also called Park Royal; and that estate was the home of a Guinness Brewery from 1936 to 2005 before the building was demolished in 2006.

Moyne was the title of the Barony awarded to Walter Guinness in 1932. He was the third son of the 1st Earl of Iveagh (in County Down), Sir Benjamin Guinness, who set up the Guinness Trust in 1888 in London (and the Iveagh Trust in Dublin in 1890).  

The roads into the estate come in from either side, but there is no through way from any of the four roads into any of the others. The way through is by footpaths only, built this way it seems less busy with traffic. The estate has the air of being tightly packed, despite the numerous little green spaces and courtyard type areas throughout. I suppose part of this comes from the signs affixed to walls near the spaces stating, “NO BALL GAMES”, which is a shame for those children who live there.

I’ve walked through a lot of parts of Crawley, and I’ve gotten some strange looks as I take photos of road signs, but I got some hostile looks as I walked around the footpaths of the estate carrying my camera ready to take photos. I definitely felt like I was intruding, and the residents were suspiciously asking what this stranger was doing in their domain. It probably didn’t help that I’d doubled back and re-trod some roads two or three times trying to find the pictures I wanted.

Once I had satisfied myself in the Guinness Trust estate, I crossed over Coachmans Drive and into an area where the signs were all about areas of London, and royal palaces and castles, starting at Enfield and working around to Fulham before coming out at Holyrood Place.

From here I wanted to get pictures of the church – Christ The Lord, a multi denominational church, that apart from the cross on the roof is hard to mark as a church, it is in such a style, that it could easily be mistaken as a school, library, or community centre, and so merges into two such buildings next to it.

Having walked around the church I now found myself on Broadfield Barton. I had thought Tilgate Parade as being the largest in Crawley, and it probably is if looking at it a single row, but the Barton is bigger, being more of a normal shopping street with shops on both side of the walkway for one half and the single aspect overlooking the car park. I was surprised how busy the Barton was, both in the number of people wandering around in it, but also in how many shops were open along it.

At the end is The Imperial, closed as it should be in these Covid lockdown. I think it is the only pub in Crawley I haven’t had a drink in (not including those shut or demolished before I lived here). And if I mention it, it seems to elicit a sharp intake of breath about going in there. Which makes me smile as I’ve had some really dodgy locals in Leicester and Manchester before moving here.

There is something about the name The Imperial that appears to bring about an air of being a rough pub. It was the same in Leicester, where it is now closed and turned into flats; the one in Manchester could be described as “industrial” on a kind day; and the one near my mum’s in Morecambe has been shut more time than it’s been open due to drug dealing and violence.

My fatbit had shaken my arm quite some time before and being at the bus stops it put the idea of giving my aching knees a break and so I got the bus back to the top of my road instead of carrying on. There will be other days to explore other parts of Broadfield.

Picture laden version can be found on my Medium page

https://onetruekev.medium.com/a-pint-of-the-black-stuff-9b0c15aada60