The Perfect Walk

Back in about 1986 I visited London with some friends from college, Sid Fulford and Sid Hopkins (who died of a heart attack about a year ago, sad to say). Before that trip I found a book by film critic Roger Ebert that purported to be a guide to the "perfect" London walk. Well, you know what? The two Sids and I followed the instructions in the book and had a perfectly wonderful day exploring a part of the city that most tourists never see.

So on Sunday afternoon July 18, 2004, I persuaded Patty Currier to join me for as much of the walk as we could manage. It's pretty much an all-day affair, and we had only the afternoon. But we did pretty well, as you'll see. The walk begins at the Belsize Park tube stop, about an inch north of the area covered by most tourist maps of London. It covers Hampstead Heath, Parliament Hill, Highgate Cemetery, and other interesting places most visitors to London never see. Here I am standing outside John Keats' house. Holding the book.

There's Patty on Parliament Hill, with all the city of London in the background.

There's Patty with a different background. We wanted to keep these pictures interesting.

It was an overcast day, but that didn't discourage the Londoners. They'll take any excuse on a summer day to lie around in the grass. Never mind that it's cool and almost rainy. This is about the best weather they can expect all year.

Patty just had to see what was on that marker. Turns out there was nothing on that marker.

Actually, I have no idea whatsoever what they were doing, but with the green grass and the white outfits, they sure looked spiffy.

There are two parts to Highgate Cemetery. On one side of the road is the modern part where Karl Marx is buried. But the really interesting section is on the other side of the road, among the Victorian crypts where Hammer Films used to make horror movies. Patty and I hurried, hurried, hurried across Hampstead Heath and with a bit of luck we made it to Highgate for the last tour of the day. In fact, we were the last two people admitted to the last tour of the day. Whew. Here I am surrounded by dead people. Holding a book.

A long, long time ago there lived a poor boy called Dick Whittington. He had no mother and no father, and often nothing to eat. One day he heard of the great city of London, where, said everyone, even the streets were paved with gold. Dick decided to go to London to seek his fortune.

London was a big and busy city, full of people both rich and poor. But Dick could not find any streets that were paved with gold. Tired, cold and hungry he fell asleep on the steps of a great house. This house belonged to Mr. Fitzwarren, a rich merchant, who was also a good and generous man. He took Dick into his house, and gave him work as a scullery boy.

Dick had a little room of his own where he could have been very happy if it had not been for the rats. They would run all over him as he lay on his bed at night and would not let him sleep. One day Dick earned a penny shining shoes for a gentleman, and with it he bought a cat. After that Dick's life became easier - the cat frightened away all the rats, and Dick could sleep in peace at night.

One day Mr. Fitzwarren called all the servants of the house together. One of his ships was leaving for a far-off land with goods to trade. Mr. Fitzwarren asked his servants to send something of their own in the ship if they so desired, something which could perhaps be traded for a bit of gold or money. Dick had only his cat to send - which he did with a sad heart.

Dick continued to work as a scullery boy for Mr. Fitzwarren, who was very kind to him. So was everyone else except the Cook who made Dick's life so miserable that one day Dick decided to run away. He had reached almost the end of the city when he heard the Bow Bells ring out. 'Turn again Whittington, thrice Lord Mayor of London' chimed the bells. Dick was astonished - but he did as the bells said and went back to Mr. Fitzwarren.

When he returned he found that Mr. Fitzwarren's ship had returned, and that his cat had been sold for a great fortune to the King of Barbary whose palace had been overrun with mice. Dick had become a rich man.

He soon learnt the business from Mr. Fitzwarren, married his daughter Alice, and in time became the Lord Mayor of London three times, just as the bells had said.

Richard Whittington was a real person, the son of a knight and himself a rich merchant in London. He served three terms as Lord mayor of London: 1397-99, 1406-07, and 1419-20. He died in 1423.