My walk today took me through ancient woodlands.
Every bit as historical as Kew gardens and completely free.
One of the park entrances is close to the flat and all I have to do is open a gate, fasten it behind me and the streets of London fade.
I have been walking along the gravelly woodland paths, which today were muddy from the rain, familiarizing myself with the area without totally spooking myself with the remoteness so many trees and hedgerows exude.
Hubs worries that with my sense of direction I will get lost, but I say,
“I’m only gone for an hour!”
“Yes, but one day you may be gone for an hour and never come back,” to which I have to reply,
“Well then I’d be gone for a whole lot more than an hour wouldn’t I?”
Usually what I do is walk for half an hour and then turn round and walk back,
“It’s the turning round that gets me worried,” points out hubs. I think for a moment before agreeing,
“You’re right, in my turning around I could get completely turned around and lose myself by walking in a circle!”
We laugh.
But I am right so am very cautious in the woods because turning around and retracing steps is not so easy, there are lots of little detour-like pathways that look the same to me. I mean one tree looks very like another doesn’t it?
When the ground is wet dozens of crows gather searching for worms, insects and nuts, they caw in an effort to warn me off, then fly, a hop or two away, to continue foraging.
Even though I can see the public golf course with the odd golfer teeing off, one would have to be awfully keen to play in this cold, the solitary cry of a crow high in a bare tree is eerie and ominous.
I am impressed by the size of the park on reading about it. I learn it is the largest green space in the borough sprawling over 96 hectares (237.2 acres) of prime location.
There are several listed building in the park but because of lack of money they cannot even be taken over by the English Heritage who expect their buildings to be of a certain standard before they agree to manage them.
Despite the difficulties of upkeep on these Georgian buildings, the local council and friends of the park rail fiercely against any suggestion of privatization.
Ancient woodlands aside, the park itself is a massive swathe of land in the middle of Beckenham. At the centre of the park is the golf course whose perimeter I skirt and the pathways sweep uphill and down dale in an exquisitely rolling green of meadow and grassland surrounded my trees that have mostly turned and lost their leaves.
In the dark and lonely woodland paths there are numerous varieties of evergreens wherein squirrels, foxes and crows rustle and shuffle through the undergrowth giving even the stoutest heart a little jolt every now and then.
Literature about the park announces it to be one of London’s best kept secrets. This is good news for the wildlife but not so good for the listed, decaying buildings, one of which suffered near fatal damage in a deliberately set fire during the summer this year clearly indicating the urgent need for increased security and greater exposure to the public.
I for one will continue to walk the grounds suspended in time for an hour, following the banks of the river Ravensbourne, surrounded by the panicked streets of London traffic. Then I will have to head home before my worried hubs sends out the troops or orders me a SatNav!
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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