 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
|
| After having been so rude about the town in general, maybe I ought to redress the balance a little. Walthamstow Village, the size of which varies from the compact and bijou, to the expansionist demesne of the fevered minds of the army of local estate agents, does offer a welcome contrast to the tawdriness of the centre of town. Standing there for a moment it is possible to appreciate that London is merely a geographical idea trying to navigate through a maze of meandering villages. In truth, only a soupcon of |
| a lost rural idyll may be felt in the air: the celebrated "ancient house", pictured on the right is ruined by its hideous, deformed, semi-detached parasitic Siamese twin. Some 18th century almshouses are situated nearby, although none have been recently constructed for enfeebled Council Tax officers, and I would have taken a photo of the church, had it not been for a malevolence of lurking teenage boys in the graveyard encouraging their respective dogs to bark louder and more menacingly than all the others. |
| Before I start sounding even more like an insufferable old duffer trying to become a tenth-rate Pevsnser, I ought to move on to... ...the Wood Street indoor market, which is a much more contemplative, unhurried affair than the main High Street bazaar. On the plus side, there are second-hand book and CD stores, and some ancient home entertainment devices on sale that could be mistaken for weapons of mass destruction ( was that 45 supposed to be hurled out of that primitive discman like a clay pigeon, I wonder?). On the downside there were some of the hideous lapses of taste on show that Walthamstow does so well. Chief amongst these were these cakes, iced to a level of camp awfulness not seen this side of Danny La Rue's dressing-room. Oh yes, and the swastika pendant seen on sale in a stall called "Speakers Corner" was a little bit on the worrying side, too.. |
 |
| I was on my way home and came across the organic food shop, pictured on the right, beloved of my sister. I have mixed feelings about organic food shops: rather like nuclear weapons, they are hideously expensive, I'm vaguely reassured that we've got some of them, but I wouldn't really want to use them myself. If that makes me sound like an unreconstructed old slob, then I suppose that's what Walthamstow has done to me. The final photo is of the London Borough of Waltham |
| Forest's Town Hall, where doubtless my sibling Council Tax officers spend too much of their time gnawing what's left of their intellect away by sending out pre-bailiff warning letters.The Borough is "linked" with St John's in Antigua and Roseau in Dominica, so someone's obviously had a few jollies out of the Council Tax by going on arduous fact-finding missions, methinks. |
| My sister informs me that the Germans were to use the Town Hall as their London headquarters in the event of a successful invasion; I haven't found any evidence to back this up, but as we local government officers are forever being labelled as little Hitlers, I suppose there would be a certain aptness to that. Well that's it. I'm sure there's much more to Walthamstow. Yes, honestly. There's the William Morris gallery, where if wallpaper's your bag you'll have a great time (yawn..), that kebab shop owner popularised by Harry Enfield (oh dear..), Brian Harvey of boy-band E17 who was so stupid he forgot to to lie about not taking drugs, and you could always go to the dogs.... Enough said, really. |
 |
|
|
|
| back to previous page |
| back to quick menu |
| back to front page |
| back to August's Monthly Message |
 |
| to the Waltham Forest website |