Monday 3rd October 2022

I can't remember where or when I first heard about Nunhead Cemetery, but it has been on my list of places to visit.

Then a couple of weeks ago, a friend visited and took some shots, so put it front and centre in my mind. So, when I realised I had to take a week off, going to Nunhead was upmost in my plans.

And for some reason, I thought that going by train, on the slow train from Ashford, would be the best use of our time.

I say our time, as Jools had the day off too.

So, plans were made and timetables studied, and so we would leave Dover on the 08:52 train to Charing Cross, but getting out at Sevenoaks.

It was a bright morning, but was soon to cloud over. But no rain.

Which was nice.

We had breakfast and loaded the car at quarter past eight, driving into what counts as rush hour traffic around here, into Dover and dinding a place to park on one of the narrow, steep streets overlooking the station.

I then hed to negotiate with lady in the ticket office about whether a journey could be broken on the outward or inbound leg. I have always thought it the outbound, and indeed have done so in the past, she said inbound only.

In the end she sold me a ticket and said it wouldn't be her fault.

In fact, it was my fault for wanting to take the slow train up and fast train back. But, hey ho.

We waitind for the slow train, watching the High Speed service leave before us, as travelling on that would have meant us paying double as it arrives in London five minutes before ten, thus making it a peak service. Had it arrived six minutes later, would be an off peak.

Sigh.

Anyway, our train rolled in, so we got our seats and prepared for the 90 minute journey into deepest, darkest Kent. Or Sevenoaks as we call it.

The train filled up as we got nearer London, until we reached Sevenoaks and so we got off as more got on. We crossed over to the far platofrm for the Thameslink service, but there was confusions, the display was showing the 10:52 cancelled, and that being the next planned departure, but the 10:22, as leaving after, but operating.

A train pulled in, so we got in to see where it would go. It was the 10:22 after all, so all good.

The train trundled along the Darent Valley, past places I knew through churches and/or orchids, until we crossed the M25 and into that London.

We passed through places I have never heard of, parts of the urban sprawl of SE London: Swanley, St Mary Cray, Bromley, all of which are technically in Kent, and each having at least one parish church. Which could mean some urban crawling at some point, but I don't think I will do these historical Kent churches, as they are now London boroughs.

We arrived at Nunhead, and being just gone 11, were hungry. I knew from GSV there was a cafe, so we sought it out, and both ordered a medium breakfast and a brew.

Even though this is a few miles from the centre of London, traffic passed outside, sometimes an ambulance or police car with sirens blaring and lights flashing. Houses packed so close together than the selection of wheelie bins made the pavement almost impassable, expecially as the London Plane Trees were so mature so that they took half the path.

After eating up, we made our way through a modern housing estate, through a passageway and found ourself outside the cemetery.

Nunhead was one of the "magnificent seven" ceneteries built in the 1840s to find places to bury the city's dead when the churchyards near the centre of the city were full.

Nunhead is perhaps the least known, and the Victorian part has gotten overgrown, with nature reclaiming the land, with graves and monuments covered in plants and ivy.

It all makes for fine photography, but also a reminder that in death, we are all equal, as the grand tombs and memorials are claimed by nature now, or partially damaged at a time when it was even more wild than it is now.

We walked to the ruined chapel, locked, sadly, then up and round a rad, lined with grand tombs and memorials, some at alarming angles due to tree roots.

We stopped at a bench, and tried to spot the parakeets in the trees above. We could hear them, but not see them.

We had seen enough, so walked back down tot eh gate, through the estate to the station. We caught a train to Blackfiars, which as it neared the river, weaved through buildings and over roads, passing so close to some flats that I could have reached out and knocked on their windows as we went by.

At Blackfriars we crossed to the other platform to catch a train to Luton, going just two stops up the line, under The City to St Pancras.

We had a 50 minute wait, so I got us a coffee and some honey roast peanuts, so we sat on a bench and watched people passing by, all in a hurry and most carrying luggage.

It's funny, that from the same station you can catch trains to Dover and other places in Kent, Nottingham, Derby and other places in the midlands, trains to Brighton, Gatwick and Luton Airports, Cambridge, as well as Paris and Brussels. Quite an amazing place, and a wide selection of people and passengers.

We went up to the platforms above to wait for our train to come in, delays meant there was a shortage of platforms, so as soon as the Margate train left, some 15 minutes late, ours came in, filled up and we slipped back out, into the tunnel under London to Stratford, then out to Dagenham to Dartford, under the river into Kent.

Phew.

We arrived back in Dover at twenty to four, walked to the car and drive back home, getting back at just on the hour, time for Steve on the wireless.

As usual, we were pooped.