Mainly Outings

To complete the saga of the carpet, I have to mention one last thing. Years later my aunt and uncle brought their vacuum cleaner along in the car, and proceeded to at last give that carpet a good clean. Three whole bagfuls of pure soot came out of it,and afterwards, it looked completelydifferent, a bit like the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel after its restoration in fact.

Now to get down to the title of this chapter. Living in more or less central London, wasn't a bad place to live from lots of points of view. But one misconception that I must put right for non-Londoners, is to point out that although we were only a few miles away from the West End, anywhere we wanted to go involved a lot of walking, and especially if one had a mother like mine, who would rather walk a mile than spend an extra penny on bus fares. It was a good ten-minutes walk to the nearest bus stop on Camden Road, and at least a mile to CamdenTown. It was even further to the shopping centre in the other direction, Holloway or the Nag's Head as my grandmother used to call it. Then of course, there was the endless Leyton Road leading to Kentish town. My mother often walked me all the way from Parliament Hill Field, up to the top of the hill and back, and then all the way home. It was a wonder that my legs were not worn down to stumps.
But I do remember travelling on the underground when I was still so small that the backs of my knees came nowhere near the edge of the seat making my feet stick out into the standing area, and when I still had the tendency to fall asleep on the way home. My mother would always take me out during the weekend. I remember, Kensington Gardens was one of my favourite places, with the Elfin Oak, (in those days not behind bars,) Peter Pan's statue and the Round Pond. And best of all there was big playground with lovely, but probably desperately unhygienic sandpits.
When I come to think of it, playgrounds in those days, were desperately dangerous all round, but they were probably much more fun. The solid child swings with an arrangement of pull-down bars probably weighed as much as the child that was put in it, and woe betide anyone who got hit by them! The ordinary swings were also made of solid wood, and there was just ordinary asphalt to land on if you fell.
Of the parks, I think Regent's Park was my favourite, with the 'Broad Walk' lined with huge banks of flowers and curly green-painted benches to sit on. Then, when I was older, I discovered the magic of 'Queen Mary's Gardens' or 'The Rose Gardens', as they were mostly called. Here was a magic bridge over the lake (which you could still go on in those days) leading to a, for me, enchanted island, where all manner or fascinating nooks and crannies could be found.
There was also in the Rose Gardens, a wonderful statue of writhing athletes, being attacked by huge snakes, with the water from the fountain, spouting dramatically all around them. This statue was surrounded by quiet benches and tall walls of ivy. My mother used to sit back on one of the benches and say "Who would think we were in the middle of London!" And indeed, there would be no-one there but us, and the only sounds to be heard would be the splashing of the fountain, birdsong and the gentle rustling of the ivy in the summer breeze. I do remember being the teeniest bit bored though, once I had circumnavigated the fountain, walking along its narrow wall, and not owning up to my sopping wet shoe and sock where I had nearly slipped in.
Something a little more tiresome, happened during one of our walks ove Parliament Hill Fields andGospel Oak. Where one ended and the other began, I was never quite sure. It was the same with Kenwood, which was also in that area. In the general direction of Kenwood are a series of ponds. They are the source of the Fleet River, which runs under Fleet Street and flows intothe Thames, so my mother used to tell me.She was always knowledgable about such things.
Two of the ponds had been turned into swimming pools, one for men and one for ladies. They exist still, and the ladies' one still has a very prominent notice 'No men beyond this point' A bit sexist for this day and age, but fun.
Anyway this pond where I was playing at about the age of three or so had a rather inviting tree, with a lovely, low branch jutting right out over the water. I couldn't resist, and soon I was clambering along it. I don't remember a great deal more except being hauled out of the pond by a very irate parent and a helpful passer-by. There was no danger involved, as the water was only knee deep near the bank, just mess, slimy green water weed and lots of mud.
But looking back,I realise how important these outings were for me. I grew up knowing not only how grass, flowers and trees looked, but how they smelt, what they sounded like when the wind blew or the rain fell, and how it felt to to lie flat on my back in the long wilder grass of Hampstead and Kenwood and see nothing but the sky and the clouds above, in short to have the privilege of knowing how it feels to be at one with nature during my earlychildhood when such impressions leave an indelible mark.