WALKING CRAZY

 I don’t say golf is ‘a good walk spoiled.’ I say it’s much, much worse than that, but I 

know that other views are possible. 

The earliest appearance of that ‘spoiled walk’ quip, according to Quote Investigator was in a newspaper article in Enniscorthy, Ireland in April 1901. The author was only identified as ‘a northern Gael.’ 

 

In 1905, they say, Henry Leon Wilson tweaked the expression and used it in his novel The Boss of Little Arcady.  No, of course I haven’t read it.  The line there apparently runs ‘This new game of golf that the summer folks play seems to have too much walking for a good game and just enough game to spoil a good walk.’  It’s a much better line.

 

However since golf dates back at least to the 15^th century, and the first18 hole golf course was laid out in St Andrews in the 18^th century it’s hard to understand how golf is ‘this new game,’ but perhaps it’s poetic license.

 

I’ve never play ‘proper’ golf and I know I’d be no good at it, but there was a short phase of my life when I had a taste for crazy golf.

 

Obviously the great thing about crazy golf is that it doesn’t spoil a walk because there’s really no walking in it to speak of, and there’s no real golf either, which is a real plus.

 

My idea, not one of my best, was that I’d turn my crazy golf interest into a TV format ‘Playing A Round With Geoff.’  We’d get Ian Botham or Helen Mirren or Salman Rushdie, and we’d putter around together and they’d be relaxed enough to lower their guard and say something wonderful.

 

Well, you can imagine how well that went down.  But as ‘research’ I did play a certain amount of crazy golf, mostly in East Anglia, with anybody I could get interested. And I did take some photos – above and below.

 

And then a couple of weekends ago I went for a more or less proper walk in Felixstow, not at all in search of crazy golf, and if you’d asked me if I’d ever played crazy golf there I’d have said no, but it seems I did.  See below, Then and Now: the obelisk doesn’t lie.  Unless it’s been moved.

 

Which brings us to Bing Crosby who died on October 14^th1977.  He’d finished a round of golf at the La Moraleja course in Spain, with three other golfers, and he said to his partners ‘That was a great game of golf, fellas, let’s go have a Coca Cola’ which sounds a little unlikely to me.  The picture below is obviously from a different time.

 

But anyway, he was walking back to the clubhouse, full of the joys of the links, had a heart attack, fell over and died.

 

It must really have really spoiled his walk.  It probably didn’t enhance the walk for the other guys he was playing with either.

 

 

WANDERING CLOUDILY

 Fresh over the transom comes a copy of the revised edition of the excellent The Art of 

Wandering by Merlin Coverley, subtitled ‘The Writer as Walker,’ published ten years after the 

first edition of 2012.

 

As yet I haven’t been through it all looking for changes and updates, but because of vanity and narcissism I obviously did check the index.  There you’ll find 8 references to Geoff Nicholson, as opposed to a mere 2 in the first edition. These are the small things that keep us writers going.

 

On the other hand there is no reason to be smug.  Wordsworth is in there with 12, up from 10; and Walter Benjamin is up from 4 to 8.  But best of all Lauren Elkin is there in with a bullet – 7 citation, up from not there at all in the first edition but that’s because her book Flaneuse wasn’t published until 2016.  So good for her.  Good for all of us.

 

         I can hardly wait to see the next edition of the Art of Wandering in 10 years time.

 

A WALK IS A WALK IS A WALK

 

This is new to me but it appeared in the Harvard Crimson in February 1959, written by one Alice P Albright under the Headline ‘Gertrude Stein at Radcliffe: Most Brilliant Women Student.’  Stein died in 1946.

In the article, which (you may be surprised to hear) does not display precisely the same attitudes that are current in Harvard today, Albright writes,

‘As an undergraduate, Gertrude spent her leisure time in argument ("the air I breathe"), at the theatre and opera, and in taking long walks. To the end of her life, she liked walking; someone has said that she moved like a souped-up glacier, or like a mass of primordial mud. Though young ladies did not usually walk alone at night in those days, Gertrude knew she was safe. In fact, she promised to climb a tree at the approach of a masher--then drop on him and squash him!’

 

I can well believe that Gertrude Stein was a walker, but I’m less sure that she was much of a tree climber.

 

Some of those deeply unauthoritative online quotation sites have a few good lines from Stein.  Like this:

 

And this, even better, I think:

 

I’ve not been able to find sources for those two quotations but I did find this in Stein’s‘Mallorcan Stories’ which you can read in Geography and Plays.

 

‘A walk is not where the door shows a light, a walk is where there is a request to describe a description. A walk is when a place is not to be exchanged. There is a respect in every walk.

‘There is a result in every walk and the turn is there, the foot and the boot have that union that there can be slippers. Talking of the return of that shows that there will not be an opening. There is no reason to exchange the joke.’

 

Words to live by, words to walk with.

A WINNER IN PINNER

 

So off we went to Pinner, primarily to visit the Heath Robinson Museum in Pinner Memorial 

Park, but also for the chance to have a walk in Pinner, terra incognita, a place I’d never set 

foot, though Elton John, Michael Rosen and Ivy Compton Burnett had all been there before me.

 

It’s not much of a walk from Pinner tube to the museum, and I’m not sure that Heath Robinson was much of a walker but images of walking do feature in his work, both in his own fantastical creations:

 

and also in his illustrations for others.  Until I went to the museum I didn’t realize he’d done so much illustration for authors – Poe, Rabelais, Cervantes, Kipling, among them.

 

Actually I think the best part of the museum was probably the ceiling:

 

In Pinner we’re in Metroland – the tube opened in 1885.  Heath Robinson lived there from 1908 to 1918 and one assumes it was less suburban then than it is now, although Robinson’s House in Moss Lane, now with a blue plaque, and actually a fair hike from the tube station, looked plenty suburban, as did many of the other (perhaps later) houses in the street.  

Robinson and family left Pinner in 1918 to move to Cranleigh in Surrey.

 

Finally a word to the wise, if you type Heath Robinson into a search engine there’s a reasonable chance it will autocorrect as Death Robinson, which has its appeal but doesn’t really fit the man himself.

SHAKEN IN WANSTEAD

 I was in Wanstead, being an author, doing a double act with fellow drifter and 

psychogeographer Travis Elborough, at a great venue in a railway arch, The Wanstead Tap.  

So of course I tried to have a short exploratory walk on the way there:

 

Wanstead is on my mental map of London, but only just – in the past I’ve walked across Wanstead Flats but it was some time ago.  And it seems to me the topographical delineations get a bit convoluted out in those parts.  You don’t have to walk very far to may be in East Ham, West Ham, Forest Gate, Newham, and at times you may be in at least two of these places at once.

 

I’m always fascinated by the hows and whys of the naming of streets and getting to the venue involved walking up Dames Road, from which Anna Neagle Close and Vera Lynn Close, named after a couple of great dames and local lasses.  Anna Neagle was born in Forest Gate, Vera Lynn was born in East Ham.

 

Parked in Anna Neagle Close was this very cool Ford Capri.  You know, if there’s one thing brightens up the average urban drift, it’s the presence cool classic cars.  I wish there were more of them:

There was also a bit of leaseable ruin:

 

 And a cat - which I think always adds to the tone of a place:

Come the Q and A at the event, an audience member (Fiona, if I remember correctly) mention Dubai, where the two side of the street looked like a mirror images of each other.

 

I promised to look this up when I got home and I have done, and although I’m not 100% sure that I’ve found the place she was talking about, I did find this, Sheik Zayed Road: 

 

I certainly doesn’t look pedestrian-friendly though it seems that parts of it are walkable (there are Youtube videos if you want to see them).

 

This was Sheik Zayed (I think I’ve got the right one):

 

I mean, he had his moments, but he was no Vera Lynn.