Well that is the dark secret revealed.
I wasn’t born in Well Hall.
I spent my early years in Peckham and only washed up in Eltham around my 13th birthday.
Now given that I write with such affection for Eltham that might be a surprise to many, and even raise an eyebrow from the few who think you have to be born somewhere to be able to call it your own.
And that of course brings up that whole thing about exactly what do we mean by home?
Lots of us will define ourselves as coming from South East London and many will share my feeling that you are never really home until the train pulls over the river into Waterloo.
But South East London is a big place and Blackheath or at least bits of it are streets away from say Woolwich or the bits of Peckham I roamed across as a ten year old.
Added to which many of the memories we share are also common to pretty much everyone from seaside Bognor to Chorlton-cum-Hardy in Manchester or chunks of Glasgow.
So the horse drawn milk float, the rag and bone man and iterant knife grinder will strike a chord with lots of people and sit beside Saturday Morning Pictures, jubilees and listening to Radio Luxemburg.
All of that said, there was a magic to growing up in Eltham, which is not to do down Nunhead, New Cross, Brockley, Brixton or the Elephant and Castle.
Eltham has the woods, the Palace, and Tudor Barn and those out of the way almost secret places like the Tarn, and Gravel Pit Lane.
Of course it helps if you were fewer than 11 with parents who were happy to let you roam free for the day and had mates who shared your sense of adventure.
And at 10 adventures can come thick and fast. They included hiding in the undergrowth up on Shooter Hill after pretending to scale the walls of the castle or leaving Eltham altogether for the excitement of the ferry over the River or the vast expanse of Greenwich Park.
Location; Eltham
Pictures; from the collection of Andrew Simpson 1976-78
I spent my early years in Peckham and only washed up in Eltham around my 13th birthday.
Now given that I write with such affection for Eltham that might be a surprise to many, and even raise an eyebrow from the few who think you have to be born somewhere to be able to call it your own.
And that of course brings up that whole thing about exactly what do we mean by home?
Lots of us will define ourselves as coming from South East London and many will share my feeling that you are never really home until the train pulls over the river into Waterloo.
But South East London is a big place and Blackheath or at least bits of it are streets away from say Woolwich or the bits of Peckham I roamed across as a ten year old.
So the horse drawn milk float, the rag and bone man and iterant knife grinder will strike a chord with lots of people and sit beside Saturday Morning Pictures, jubilees and listening to Radio Luxemburg.
All of that said, there was a magic to growing up in Eltham, which is not to do down Nunhead, New Cross, Brockley, Brixton or the Elephant and Castle.
Eltham has the woods, the Palace, and Tudor Barn and those out of the way almost secret places like the Tarn, and Gravel Pit Lane.
Of course it helps if you were fewer than 11 with parents who were happy to let you roam free for the day and had mates who shared your sense of adventure.
And at 10 adventures can come thick and fast. They included hiding in the undergrowth up on Shooter Hill after pretending to scale the walls of the castle or leaving Eltham altogether for the excitement of the ferry over the River or the vast expanse of Greenwich Park.
Location; Eltham
Pictures; from the collection of Andrew Simpson 1976-78
A lovely account of life when we were younger ...we roamed every where in safety.....sad todays children dont have that freedom ..and im from Deptford origanally ...where i could walk anywhere ans still enjoy my freedom as a young girl ...walked to Greenwich park many a time ..spent my fare on a cake or sweet ..and i lived opposite Deptford park...often went thru greenwich foot tunnel to the little park opposite ...memories ...then i met my husband an Eltham lad...and dicovered the delights of Eltham and surrounding areas..
ReplyDeleteThe great thing about living in London is that you instantly become a ‘Londoner’ no matter where you originally came from, if you so choose.
ReplyDeleteWell much the same is said of those of us who came from south east London and settled in Manchester in 1969.
DeleteI remember well my first solo trip on a bus. I was still at primary school (Deansfield) I had been taught all that I needed to know at Cubs (17th Royal Eltham) how to read LondonTransport Maps and how to make a phone call. So off me, Phillip and Mark went, to a far off adventure. It seemed that we had entered another country, it was quite, brimming with wild life and I remember how free I felt. Where did You go I hear you ask. A 161 bus to the fantastic Tarn, still a favourite place of mine. We got a taste for Red Rover adventures, leading up to our epic trip to Heathrow airport. All when we were still at Primary, happy days 😀
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