29 May 2020
My blog has been silent for two and a half months now - a couple of weeks longer than even lockdown itself, which seems eternal.
There are various reasons (excuses) for this, but these are the main ones:
By definition we have been unable to continue with our walks around London, so historical content has been thin on the ground.
For many weeks I couldn’t find anything remotely humorous about the virus or its consequences. (Of course, many talented people on social media have since done so, and I am grateful to them for that).
I’ve also been working on some of my other projects, both financial (ugh) and creative (yay). One venture even tries to mix the two subjects, which I realise sounds a bit dodgy but isn’t really (honest).
In terms of walking, we have tried out just about all the options in our immediate neighbourhood in Chislehurst, while sticking strictly and prudently to the government guidelines (after all, we are mere mortals, not the prime minister’s dad and certainly not his special adviser). After six weeks or so, we were congratulating ourselves on developing a circuit which takes us exactly one hour (plus or minus a couple of minutes crossing roads or giving a wide berth to profusely sweating joggers). Just as soon as we had done this and were awarding ourselves model citizen status, the government loosened the rules. Hey ho. The main problem with our route is that the final stretch is always uphill, but that’s our fault for living in a strategically elevated position as if we were medieval warlords. Sometimes, for added excitement, we even do the walk the opposite way round! After all, variety is the spice of lockdown life.
To be fair to our beleaguered government, the decision to permit one hour of daily outdoor exercise was - in my view - a masterstroke. We are fortunate enough to have a back garden in which we can sit out or even partake in some limited sporting activity (table tennis, soft ball cricket), but many people don’t have this option. Just being able to escape outside for an hour must have made a huge difference to the country's mental and physical health in this unique situation. The residents of Italy, Spain and to a great extent France were not so fortunate. But that’s quite enough of praising the UK government, as almost everything else they’ve said or done has objectively been a disaster.
Absent other entertainment, we amuse ourselves by observing the social distancing attitudes of our fellow pedestrians. With the odd exception, the Chislehurst walking and jogging communities have been respectful observers of the two metre rule. Even the friendliness quotient has enjoyed a positive boost. This pleases Jayne, who grew up in York and hence is not at all phased by strangers saying “hello” on the street. On moving to London, she soon found out that such generosity of spirit is completely unacceptable here - even on the Kent borders. Now she almost jumps out of her skin as an elderly gent passes by with a loud and enthusiastic “HELLO!”. I point out as gently as possible that he's just repeating what is written in large letters on the front of her hoodie. Although warm hoodies have long since been replaced by T-shirts, the hello’s have continued, albeit in a more reserved manner. Will this new spirit of openness outlive the lockdown, paving the way for a better and more gentle society in future? No chance at all. There’s more likelihood of Dominic Cummings saying “Sorry, everyone, I messed up big time there”.
Our route takes us up Camden Park Road, one of the poshest private roads in Chislehurst. Boasting some fabulous properties in large grounds, its Porsche per capita (“PPC”) ratio also lies well above the average for the area. Our eye is always caught by Fairacre, a massive pile halfway up the hill, which is Grade II listed and last changed hands for what now seems an almost reasonable £3.85 million in 2007 (though it probably didn’t seem too reasonable when the markets crashed shortly afterwards). I remember looking round a house further down the road when we were planning our move back from Stockholm in 2014. Unfortunately it was neither posh nor nice, and its garden was built on the same gradient as the north face of Everest, so we passed, then as now.
The road is named after William Camden, an antiquarian and historian, who lived in Chislehurst from 1609 up to his death in 1623. Camden was also headmaster of Westminster School, but reportedly did not enjoy this as “it interfered with his work”. Camden’s house was rebuilt and renamed Camden House a century later but today is better known (and well used) as the clubhouse of Chislehurst Golf Club. After some gentle nudging, the club threw open its grounds for use by the general public during the Coronavirus lockdown, but the recent relaxations have meant that the sounds of club on ball have returned. Meanwhile, us cricketing folk continue to sit idle through glorious Spring days.
William Camden wasn’t, it turns out, the most famous resident of Camden House. Oh no, this was - drum roll - Emperor Napoléon III of France, nephew of the first Napoléon Bonaparte who was defeated by Admiral Nelson at the Battle of Trafalgar. Napoléon III was the first elected President of the new French republic from 1848 to 1852, only to seize power from himself and serve as the last French monarch from 1852 to 1870. He was then defeated by Otto von Bismarck’s troops in the Franco-Prussian war, continuing a losing streak for France that was to be ended only by its modern-day football teams. The consolation prize was his exile to the more peaceful surroundings of Chislehurst, where he died in 1873. Fun fact of the day is that his current heir, Jean-Christophe Napoléon Bonaparte, currently works in the London private equity industry, as does at least one relative of von Bismarck.
The Chislehurst Society website reminds me that Sir Malcolm Campbell also hailed from these parts. Sir Malcolm famously broke the world land speed record between the wars, becoming the first man to drive at over 300mph, a feat accomplished on the salt flats of Utah in 1935. His descendants may also work in private equity for all I know. What I do know is that some bell-end tried to break his record a few weeks ago driving along Lower Camden, a 30mph residential road. He then drove back in the opposite direction, this time at a normal speed, and spotted us taking a photo of his car and number plate. Five minutes later he was back again and his passenger took a video of us and the kids on our walk, which was all a bit spooky and intimidating. I’m sure all of these things were in the spirit of necessary journeys in the early lockdown weeks though - after all, the guy was probably on the way to a massive garden barbecue with his mates.
Just past Camden House we pass the gated entrance to Wilderness Road, a further contender for the much-coveted “Poshest Road in Chislehurst” trophy. We believe this is where grime rapper Dizzee Rascal currently resides (just round the corner from his mum, who lives in a flat on our estate). But it’s another posh private lane, Foxbury Manor, only accessible via the extremely posh Kemnal Road, that would most likely scoop the award. Located on the other side of Chislehurst pond (or Prickend Pond, to give it its original and more entertaining name), this is not strictly on our route, but there's a cracking story about it. Michael Jackson (yes, that one) was due to rent Foxbury Manor for an impending visit to London in 2009, its owners having agreed to relocate temporarily to the badlands of Orpington. But the deal was thrown into doubt when the superstitious star heard that the nearby Chislehurst Caves stretch under the manor house and are supposedly haunted. In the end, the contract fell through for a different and more terminal reason: the singer’s premature death.
Chislehurst High Street is pleasant but a bit dull at the best of times, its predictable selection of estate agents, chain restaurants, coffee shops, hairdressers and the occasional niche boutique vying for the attention of passers-by. Some good news during lockdown is that this predictability is soon to be shattered (we hope) by the arrival of a new delikatessen, to be christened Joëlle’s. If only a decent bakery, butcher and fishmonger would follow suit, this would represent a miraculous purge of first world problems. Today, it's a hive of activity inside and out as their opening day, next Wednesday, draws ever closer. Meanwhile, the rest of the street returns slowly - painfully - to a pretence of normality. An estate agent’s door cautiously ajar here, a coffee shop with a tentative line of patrons there, two forlorn takeaway cafés that refused to shut in the first place, some of the upmarket restaurants opening up their kitchens for delivery only. Sometime soon we will meet again (now where have I heard that phrase before?).
At the far end of the street, there’s a gaggle of customers at the flower shop next to the Chinese take-away, the latter being an emporium of such historical significance that it’s included in the Chislehurst Society’s grandly named “heritage walk” (don’t get too excited, this turns out to be nothing more than a short tour up and down the High Street). The takeaway's former name, Hong Kong Garden, somewhat implausibly formed the inspiration for Siouxsie and the Banshees’ eponymous breakthrough hit in 1978. Punk goth icon Siouxsie Sioux - or Susan Ballion, as her mother preferred to call her - is, to my knowledge, the only major recording star to originate from Chislehurst. David Bowie came close, but resided more towards Beckenham and Langley Park (and was born in Brixton), whereas Pixie Lott grew up in nearby Bromley. By comparison, Dizzee and Michael are mere johnny-come-lately’s, trying to jump on the bandwagon of Chislehurst cool after the fact. The reality that Siouxsie Sioux couldn’t wait to escape late seventies suburbia and later moved to France is just a narrative inconvenience.
In her interviews, Siouxsie has claimed the song was written as an attack on the racist skinhead mobs of the day that used to abuse the takeaway’s staff as a form of evening entertainment. Yet her lyrics seem themselves to be deeply racist: “Slanted eyes meet a new sunrise, a race of bodies small in size”. Worse still, she appears to conflate the Chinese and Japanese under one race: “Would you like number twenty-three? Leave your yens on the counter please”. Indeed the contemporaneous music press praised the song for its innovative use of Japanese themes! All pretty amazing judged with the lens of today - and also sad that elements of UK society appear to relish a return to the values of this era. But there I go again - back into that political rabbit hole. Musically, Siouxsie and the Banshees were, and remain, outstanding - Chislehurst’s finest!
To everyone's immense relief, I will end the Chislehurst history lesson there, as Jayne has decided to shift her lockdown skills from baking wonderful bagels and sourdough over to the distillation of hard liquor: homemade gin! The confusing thing is that she apparently needed a whole bottle of vodka to do that. And judging by my taste test just now, it could also double as rocket fuel in case Elon Musk is having trouble sourcing supplies. Cheers!
Acknowledgements: Richard and Jayne were following a walking route of nobody's invention but their own. They both took some photographs. Research was courtesy of t'internet, especially the wonderfully dedicated https://chislehurst-society.org.uk/
Another good read Richard! Nice to hear of your local Cummings and goings and glad to see you're staying alert!
Hi Richard - Really enjoyed this article; a great mixture of history/fund facts. We too have started exploring the countryside around us and have realised how pretty it is (when the sun is shining). I have hired a e-bike though as my pulse was reaching dangerous levels (literally) trying to get up the hilly bits. Have you explored the idea of getting your blogs published (sorry to nag :) ) ? Cheers Brian