16 October 2019
Against all the odds in post-retirement-land, this week’s calendar looks full up with this and that, so we’ve more or less written off the chances of a substantial walk. Then our roofing people text to announce another delay due to “a really bad weather forecast”. We check the forecast and it looks absolutely fine, but we don’t complain because we’re British. After all, the expensive scaffolding around our house has already been standing idle for nine days, so what’s another day between friends? The reward for our patience and understanding is that we can walk after all.
As today, more than any other day in the last three and half years, looks like being THE vital day in the Brexit saga (until the next one), we decide to head for Westminster. Maybe we can influence matters by our mere presence - or if not, spot someone off the telly.
My day already starts well at London Bridge when I think I see Paul Mortimer, Charlton legend and now anti-racism campaigner. He’s fresh from his appearance on yesterday's Good Morning Britain, where he commented calmly and eloquently on the racist abuse of England’s black players in Sofia. In a parallel universe the GMB producers would have introduced Paul with a clip of his goal at Highbury - if only to wind Piers Morgan up. Back in the actual universe it remains a goal from 30 years ago remembered only by trainspotting Addicks (i.e. me). Sadly my double-take spooks him and he glides past as if he doesn’t know me (which is the case). Or maybe it was someone completely different who just happened to have a white goatee beard and resemble a footballing demi-god.
We reach Westminster and I immediately lead us off in the wrong direction. This annoys Jayne but I double down by claiming it was a subtle Brexit metaphor that went over her head. In Parliament Square I stand both corrected and in awe of the powerful sculptures of powerful men - and pleasingly, the suffragette Millicent Fawcett. Jan Smuts, the wartime South African leader, looks down disapprovingly - clearly he’s aware of my part in an unfortunate run-out incident with Richard Durden, the actor who played Smuts in the 2017 film Churchill. (Well, he hit it straight to the fielder and ran, of course I sent him back.)
We walk past the Treasury and the Foreign Office. At shortly after 11am, it’s possibly a bit early for parliamentarians but many a civil servant type hurries by with an air of self-importance. On Whitehall we pause a while to consult our Duncan* guide, but this is long enough for a kindly old gent to enquire if we need any directions. Jayne immediately answers yes, which is disconcerting but fair given my navigational performance so far. He proceeds to outline for us the five infantry and two cavalry regiments that guard the royal palaces, before popping the dreaded “where are you from?” question. “London”, I cough. “Oh, me too” comes the answer, which I think shows admirable politeness under the circumstances.
The changing of the guard on Horse Guards Parade is as splendid as ever, taking place in a stunningly beautiful open space in the centre of our great capital. I glance left towards the walled gardens of 10 Downing Street. Am I picturing the discussions between the great and the good that have taken place behind these walls over the centuries? No, I can’t get past the mental image of a “tired and emotional” Freddie Flintoff wreaking havoc in the flower beds after England won the Ashes in 2005.
It starts to spit with rain - maybe our roofers had a point after all. We are just thankful we have selected the first day for a while when everyone in London can go about their business without hindrance from Extinction Rebellion. It turns out it’s also the last day before they decide to disrupt London’s train system as well. Lucky us.
We cross the Mall, which seems to be undergoing serious construction at its Trafalgar Square end, pass by various imposing statues of British war heroes and approach the massed ranks of gentlemen’s clubs on Pall Mall - surely an anachronism in this day and age. The gardens of St. James’s Square should be open to the public on weekdays - but sadly we find the gates are locked, possibly to avoid “XR” pitching their tents, probably to keep out riff-raff like us. On the far side of the square, we come across an oversized blue plaque affixed to Chatham House, announcing that three prime ministers have lived there - William Pitt, the Earl of Derby and William Gladstone. Here Jayne and I engage in a lively discussion on a matter of earth-shattering importance, but unfortunately Chatham House rules prevent me from commenting further.
Duncan’s walk then takes us along Jermyn Street, home of fine tailoring, but we also pass the former home of Sir Isaac Newton. I was about to write that he invented gravity, but I’m pretty sure it pre-dated him so that wouldn’t be quite right. We move rapidly on before his blue plaque can work itself loose and fall on us, thus proving his theory once and for all. We sweep down St. James’s Street, moving considerably faster than the traffic, where we are nearly tempted by the lunch possibilities at Berry Bros and Rudd, purveyors of fine wine to Londoners since the 1600s (actually Duncan informs us they started out as grocers, so maybe the wine came later).
We now find ourselves in serious palace territory, with St James’s Palace stretching all the way to Green Park, across which it’s just a short walk towards Buckingham Palace itself. I’m disappointed that the southern end of Green Park isn’t very green at all, the criss-crossing gravel (and sometimes mud) paths outnumbering any remaining blades of grass. There is, however, a nicely designed monument (with water features) to the one million Canadians who served alongside the Allies across two world wars, of whom some 100,000 made the ultimate sacrifice.
The tourist throngs outside the palace have not become smaller since we were last here. We can’t quite believe our ears as we hear a London bobby conversing in fluent German with a family from Münster. Hat well and truly doffed. For a moment it’s almost as if we wish to live harmoniously alongside our European neighbours, embracing their languages and cultures. Meanwhile, the Royal Standard flies at full mast over the Palace, signifying that the lady of the house is in residence - no doubt still recovering from the trauma of her Queen’s Speech two days ago, when she looked less than amused at the content proposed by her government.
After passing Wellington Barracks on Birdcage Walk, where the seven regiments of the Royal Palaces reside, we turn right into some enchanting side streets - Queen Anne’s Gate (“architecturally one of London’s finest streets” according to Duncan), followed by Old Queen Street (which sounds vaguely insulting). The walls of the houses here are awash with plaques - philosophers, physicians and politicians all mingling in neighbourly harmony. At the end of the street, we are suddenly thrown back into the maelstrom of Westminster, with the historical Abbey looming into view, “scene of the coronation of almost every English monarch since William the Conqueror in 1066”. And if that’s not a top stat from Mr Duncan, I don’t know what is.
As instructed, we enter Dean’s Yard, another oasis of calm right next to the seats of power. At one time the main abbey courtyard, this would be a place of extraordinary beauty, were it not for the multitudes of cars and vans parked around its centre - the price of progress, I suppose. Duncan promises we can see the Abbey cloisters and its 900 year old garden “for free”. Alas, a stern lady tells us to talk to the hand (or maybe “you need to go to the ticket office”).
We complete the “official” part of our walk by returning to Westminster underground via Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. This is not as picturesque as it might otherwise be, as large swathes of the historic buildings are covered up for ongoing renovation work. There's also no sign of the newscasters in their purpose-built tents - they’ve all taken themselves off to Brussels where the really important talks are happening this week. Undeterred, there’s a smattering of protestors of various denominations, though EU blue appears to be in the ascendency today. Is this an omen? Or just some mad people with too much time on their hands? Richard the Lionheart’s magnificent statue looks on with apparent disdain, so he's in the latter camp, but Oliver Cromwell seems to be sitting on the fence - a role model for Jeremy Corbyn in so many ways. We finish on a sombre note with a moment of contemplation at the stone dedicated to PC Keith Palmer, killed in the March 2017 terror attack - a true hero (and fellow Charlton fan). RIP Keith.
But haven't we missed something important? Yes - lunch! We now head off-piste across Westminster Bridge, but so many people are coming in the opposite direction this is no easy task. We eventually make it to the south side of the river and find our way to Lower Marsh, which runs parallel to the train tracks of Waterloo station. This proves to be my Geheimtip (secret tip) of the day as we immediately find ourselves in foodie heaven, with street food of multiple varieties and ethnicities on offer for the entire length of this pedestrian-only walkway. It takes all of our resolve to save ourselves for the promised pub lunch - at The Duke of Sussex on Baylis Road.
For various reasons this is my third visit to The Duke of Sussex in the last six weeks and I like it more every time. It’s Jayne’s first visit but she seems impressed with my taste, which is always good to reaffirm after 28 years of enduring it. We immediately receive a warm welcome and our drinks are brought directly to our table, a nice touch at lunchtime. Jayne has the school run in mind so orders a tonic water tinged with ginger, but I have no shame and go straight for the Timothy Taylor on tap. It’s fantastic (which I already knew from my previous visits, but the landlord also confirms it’s his tipple of choice).
Now for the food menu. And there it is - a sharing platter of prosciutto, salami, olives, beer sausage and cornichons, all for a mere £18. Tempting, but if the price of cold meat’n’pickle platters continues to rise by £2 a week, it’ll hit £40 a pop this side of Christmas. No sign of whitebait though, so our normal combo is definitely out. In any case, I’m determined to have the cheddar, jalapeño and red onion marmalade sandwich off the “Lunch Specials” menu, which was delicious on my first visit and comes with a surprisingly good value £6 price-tag - or £8 with fries or a side salad. We order a sharing platter as well, but today it’s the guacamole, marinated mozzarella, hummus, chilli, pomegranate and pitta bread version that takes our fancy. Cold meats no more (which I’m sure features somewhere in The Proclaimers’ A Letter from America). This expansive order is necessary because (a) it’s 2pm by now and we’re starving from our walk and (b) I’m now convinced anything served in a London pub will be miniscule rather than massive.
It arrives. It’s absolutely MASSIVE. In fact, it’s so massive that neither of us will eat anything else until tomorrow. The fare is not only plentiful but tasty too - and the sandwich is every bit as good as I remembered. Meanwhile we read up about the pub itself - The Duke of Sussex is one of a small, but perfectly formed, group of 13 pubs operating under the Hippo banner. The founder, Rupert Clevely, a serial pub entrepreneur, is apparently known as “The Chief Rhinoceros”. The rest of the management team similarly favour names of wild animals, most of them dangerous. The human “Hippo” turns out to be Jamie, the food guy - this is somehow reassuring as we face up to the platefuls before us. In short, Hippo stands for fun, friendly, warm and cosy community pubs where they strive to “get the fires going”. More power to their arm, I say, as they’re clearly doing a lot of things right. We also witness the attention to detail of the team, who buzz about deciding on locations for new fixtures and fittings. We are also impressed by their dedication to sourcing local seasonal produce - even if the provenance map in the menu is geographically suspect (see picture). A lovely pub.
Duly refreshed and still with time to spare before the school run, we stride out further and accompany the railway line eastwards from Waterloo to London Bridge. Soon we find ourselves on Union Street and pass by some cool-looking pubs and restaurants, an old printworks and even a prostitutes’ graveyard - but all of this is already described far more eloquently here: https://deserter.co.uk/2019/08/streetlife-union-street-se1/. At the sight of the printworks I shudder at the memory of an “all-nighter” spent at another printing company around here, checking every last minute change before a stock exchange circular was due for release at daybreak. Those were the days. I wonder if anyone has to do that anymore (surely not?).
Turning left up Borough High Street towards London Bridge station, our end point for today, I keep a keen eye out for two of my lunchtime haunts from the 80s and 90s - The George, a medieval coaching inn so steeped in history that it’s owned by the National Trust, and The Market Porter, overlooking Borough Market, which served very decent pub grub upstairs (and probably still does). Better memories than at the damned printers, that’s for sure.
Summary: At three miles, Westminster/St. James’s is one of Andrew Duncan’s shorter walks. My original concept was to combine it with another nearby walk, but the voice of reason (i.e. Jayne) prevailed, suggesting we combine it with a relaxing stroll to lunch instead. Brilliant! (Why didn’t I think of that?)
The sights and sounds of the Houses of Parliament, Whitehall, Horse Guards Parade, Westminster Abbey and Buckingham Palace are of course iconic and unmissable; the middle section around St. James’s arguably less compelling (but pleasant enough to join up the dots). The enjoyment of today’s walk was certainly enhanced by the uncharted sections we stumbled across between Waterloo and London Bridge - this area definitely merits a return visit, if not a full-blown pub crawl. And it was another day with over 20,000 steps in the tank - what’s not to like?
Acknowledgements: Richard and Jayne were following Andrew Duncan's "Walking London: Thirty Original Walks in and around London”, Westminster and St. James's walk, pp 82-88, 2010 edition published by New Holland Publishers (UK) Ltd.
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