Category Archives: Bromley History

Following the Quaggy – Sundridge Park to Chinbrook Meadows

In earlier posts, Running Past has followed the Quaggy from its sources around Locksbottom and then on through Petts Wood, the Hawkwood Estate, Chislehurst and Bickley, leaving the river just after it had appeared from the dominant bulk of the railway cutting on Sundridge Avenue.  Almost as soon as it arrived into the open it was to disappear into Sundridge Park – which is largely out of bounds for the fluvial flâneur.

Sundridge Park is an old country estate – there had been a three storey brick house on the southern bank of the Quaggy which had been home to a succession of wealthy Londoners.  The estate was remodelled by Humphrey Repton in the late 18th century – this included creating a Pulhamite grotto on the hillside close to the current house (see comment from Sarah below). It seems likely that Repton, the preeminent landscape gardener of his generation, was responsible for culverting the Quaggy through much of the grounds – certainly early Ordnance Survey maps (on creative commons from National Library of Scotland) which were surveyed well before the golf courses were built  have the Quaggy largely hidden, only reappearing for a lake just below the House.  Part of the culverting was removed during the 20th century.

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As well as hiding the river, Repton was also responsible for the demolition of the original house, which was located south of the river, around 1792 and a new house was designed by James Wyatt for Edward George Lind and built between 1792 and 1795. Lind sold the estate to (Sir) Claude Scott in 1796, and he employed the prominent Georgian architect John Nash to make additions in 1799.  It is an impressive Grade I building (see below – source eBay February 2017), although the extensive conference centre it is now part of it, somewhat detracts from it.

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The Park itself is notable for its lack of public rights of way, there are no public footpaths traversing the pair of golf courses of the Sundridge Park golf club (although the Green Chain Walk skirts part of the western course) which was opened by the then Prime Minister Balfour in 1902 on land leased from the Scotts.  The valley of the Quaggy is clear on this early postcard of Sundridge Park (source eBay November 2016).

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While the golf courses make the park largely out of bounds for the (sub)urban explorer, access was negotiated for following Milk Street Ditch at the northern end of the Park along with some slightly less legitimate looking for the unnamed tributaries of the Quaggy elsewhere on the ‘estate’, the Sundridge Park Ditches.  ‘Ditch’ should not be seen as a derogatory term, it is just the local term for a small stream. The photographs below show the river upstream and downstream from Milk Street Ditch.

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Once out of the Park the river is culverted under New Street Hill  and flows, submerged through part of the 1930s suburbia, an area originally known as Hall’s Farm Estate after the farm whose land was lost to development.  While the Quaggy is submerged, it is clear in a valley and the course is followed above ground by tracks to what seem to be largely abandoned garages – too small for 21st century vehicles. The Quaggy is joined by another unnamed ‘Ditch’ which follows one of the streets of the estate Leamington Avenue.

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The Quaggy re-emerges into the open in the southern part of Chinbrook Meadows (top left below) before being encased in concrete to take it under the towering mass of the mainline out of Grove Park.  A few metres into its tunnel it is joined by another tributary – Border Ditch – whose last metres are behind the fencing in the bottom right hand photograph.

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The emergence again into the open is initially bounded by concrete but then gently meanders through the main part of Chinbrook Meadows.  This was not always the case – early Ordnance Survey maps (on creative commons from National Library of Scotland) suggest a straightening to allow for easier cultivation in pre-development Grove Park. Worse was to come for the Quaggy, after the farmland was turned into a Park – the river was given concrete banks which discouraged any flora or fauna and hedging was planted which almost prevented park users from even viewing the river. It was a waterway disconnected from its environment and the population around it.  This all changed in 2002 and the Quaggy was taken out of its concrete culvert and allowed a naturalised bed to flow in.

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The changes help mitigate flood risk and allow the banks to be overflowed and excess water to be safely retained within the park, slowing flows and reducing the likelihood of flooding downstream.

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Before leaving Grove Park a brief detour a few metres is worth making, to the Peace Garden – an area opened in 2009 by one of Grove Park’s most famous residents, Archbishop Desmond Tutu – some of whose early ministry was as an Honorary Curate at St Augustine’s between 1972 and 1975.

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We’ll leave the Quaggy at this point with a stark reminder of how it used to be – a barren concrete channel.

The Sundridge Park Ditches – Tributaries of the Quaggy

Sundridge Park is an area which formerly had several streams joining the Quaggy – there are a number of tell-tale sets of notched contour lines on modern Ordnance Survey maps heading towards Chin Brook, the local name for the Quaggy at the eastern end of the Park (it is again Kyd Brook at the western end).  Other than Milk Street Ditch and its own small tributary, which Running Past has already covered, none have allowed any blue selections by the Ordnance Survey cartographers, indicating current water, so the valleys may be historic, created in times when water tables were higher.

However, they become obvious when looking at Environment Agency flood risk maps (using the surface water option).

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All seem to be unnamed but I have referred to them as ‘Ditches’ – this is not to belittle them, far from it, it can be seen as bestowing significance on them – most of the named Quaggy tributaries in this area have the appellation ‘Ditch’ – Petts WoodMilk Street, Border and Grove Park.

There are several on the southern side of the railway – including the valley of parts of Sundridge Avenue, another which would have risen somewhere around Scotts Park Primary School.  There is a further one which is almost adjacent to St Joseph’s School – the latter (and probably the former) were used to feed a long gone boating lake, complete with boat house shown on the 1897 Ordnance Survey map below (source National Library of Scotland on a creative commons).

 

The location of the lake is obvious on the ground, well obvious to those who ignore the ‘private’ signs (but unlike the western branch of the Kyd Brook higher up in the catchment, there was no razor wire or indeed fencing to deter the fluvial flâneur.)  While a notice threatened ‘deep water’, the former lake was a rather dried-up shadow of its former self.

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There is another ‘Ditch’ just to the rear of Garden Road, the small valley is obvious on the road up to the clubhouse but not on the golf course viewed through the fencing at the bottom of the Garden Road.

The most obvious valleys are on the northern bank of Kyd Brook – one may have been diverted by the construction of Elmstead Woods station – the dark blue flood risk stops there, but the valley continues – there are clear notched contours just to the west of Rockpit Wood (see the area marked ‘Botany Bay’ on the 1919 OS Map on a National Library of Scotland creative commons, below).  The woods take their name from a small quarry, in which there have been found lots of fossils.  While no water is marked on the map below, there is a small stretch of azure on the Environment Agency map above – a small remnant of a past watercourse.

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There is certainly another ‘Ditch’ behind the Mansion, possibly a dammed stream creating a small pond on the hillside – a stream isn’t obvious from OS Maps but it features on the East Course golf course map adjacent to the 15th and 16th fairways, with a smaller arm from close to the Mansion. They probably wouldn’t be noticed by those playing the ‘demanding’ par 3 15th, hidden by the woodland to the right of the fairway .  While the confluence with the Quaggy is marked, I failed to spot it from my surreptitious run along the road up towards the Mansion.

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The deepest valley is one emerging opposite Milk Street Ditch – the source of this is in Elmstead Woods , the other edge of the wood is source to another tributary – Fairy Hall Flow.  This is clear on the ground, close to Grove Park Cemetery; with two small ditches coalescing at a screen in a small dip on the Green Chain Walk.  While I haven’t seen any water there for a while, I certainly remember small channels flowing alongside the path in wetter seasons.  The combined flow, when it flows, would take it under a corner of Grove Park Cemetery and then at a slight dip in the path crosses the Green Chain Walk just before it enters Elmstead Woods.  There is the ferrous presence of a manhole cover allowing access to the occasional stream in a small dip in the path going back towards Chinbrook Meadows allowing access before it reaches the railway.

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The railway bars its way and the Flood Risk Map (above) suggests that it may have flooded in the past – there seems to have been a new concrete structure built which presumably ushers the wrong kind of water away from the tracks.

There appear to be remnants of the stream adjacent to the 10th fairway on the West Course – visible on the fly-through of the course.

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I had hoped to be able to see the valley when tracking Milk Street Ditch’s short traverse of the golf course but the last vestiges of autumnal colours prevented a clear enough view.

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Beyond a Boundary – Border Ditch, a Quaggy Tributary

Border Ditch is one of the smaller tributaries of the Quaggy – it rises in playing fields on the edge of the Downham estate, very close to a natural boundary – the watershed that marks the divide between the Quaggy and Ravensbourne catchments. Its name comes from a different boundary though – for some of its recent life it was a small part of the border between Lee, then Lewisham, and Bromley.  In addition, it would mark the limit of London until 1965 when Bromley was prised out of Kent and brought into the metropolis (although the distinctions had become a little blurred from the 1840s as the Bromley was included in the area covered by the Metropolitan Police).

While the contour lines on the map for the early part of the Ditch are clear, they would suggest a route from around the middle of the playing field then following a line slightly to the south of Welbeck Avenue to Burnt Ash Lane.  However, the boundary which predated development, and the playing fields, is slightly to the north of this, suggesting that the course may have been adjusted when the land was farmed.  There was no access to the school playing fields, so any further investigation proved impossible.  The current course seems to follow a now overgrown access road to garages and then a very clear dip in Burnt Ash Lane.

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There used to be a small bridge at this point which was captured on film around the time of the First World War, before the advance of suburbia and the Downham estate in the 1920s (source Lewisham Archives on a Creative Commons).

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The stream is no longer visible (or even audible) at this point but there is a clear valley as it squeezes between the gardens of Ridgeway Close on the Bromley side and Wydeville Manor Road on the Lewisham side.  There are tracks down to garages at the rear on the Bromley side, but as ‘danger reared its ugly head’ – with a dog starting to bark as I attempted to investigate – the urban explorer ‘turned and fled’ in the manner of Brave Sir Robin.

Fortunately, there was a dog-free access point on the Lewisham side and squeezing between some broken railings a view of the newly emergent Border Ditch was possible.  There is a noticeable valley although during a relatively dry early autumn relatively little water. From this point, it is likely that the Ditch continued downhill until it met the Quaggy; it isn’t possible to be certain though as the imposing railway embankment obliterated contour lines past.

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Railway engineers appear to have taken the Ditch on a slightly more circuitous journey in creating a new confluence with the Quaggy. The course they chose for it would have seen the Ditch empty into the Quaggy close to the bridge in the southern part of Chinbrook Meadows – source Creative Commons.

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While the line to Bromley North was later added, the course doesn’t seem to have altered – source Creative Commons, National Library of Scotland.

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The stream seems to have been slightly moved north east at a later date to hug the edge of the embankment and emptying into the Quaggy just after the latter enters the tunnel under the main line.

The re-emergence into the open  is a rather desultory one, exiting from its concrete casing into what was more reminiscent of a drain than a stream.  There was little sign of movement in the ominous looking muddy water.  It wasn’t even easy to see, hidden behind stout metal Network Rail fencing preventing any ne’er do wells having access to the embankment from the south westerly part of Chinbrook Meadows.

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The emergent Ditch trickles slightly downhill for almost a hundred metres towards its final destination – its confluence with the Quaggy.  The coming together of the flows is rather lacking in distinction too, there is a twist to force the Ditch down and almost back upon itself to meet the Quaggy with the all the force of a tap with low water pressure.  My failed attempts to photograph the junction were even less impressive than the reality.

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The good news is that there are plans afoot to try to make the last few metres of the ‘Ditch’ slightly more alluring, while the aesthetics will be improved considerably, the real reason is to install a sustainable drainage system (SuDS) which would enable water to run through a series of pools planted with native marshland plants that will naturally filter the water reducing the potential pollution impact of the ‘Ditch.’  I am no expert on gauging water quality by sight, but it didn’t look good.

While Border Ditch isn’t currently worth much of a trek, Chinbrook Meadows is a different matter, it is a lovely park – one of my Lewisham favourites.  It was the site of a small dairy farm, Chinbrook Farm – the park first opening in 1929 and being considerably extended eight years later.  The Quaggy was channelised early in the ‘Meadow’s’ existence and, from memory, large fences and hedges partially hid the river (they still do on its exit).  The river was freed into a more natural gently meandering course with more natural planting and access after works that were completed in 2002.

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If you recognise some of the latter photos and text, that would not be surprising, I have previously attributed them to a different stream – one I referred to as Grove Park Ditch (West).  Border Ditch is referred to as that, without the locational suffix, by the Environment Agency. However, having spent an age following flows and contours on old OS Maps I am now pretty certain that the outflow is that of Border Ditch, I am in pretty good company here – my view is shared by the sadly departed fellow fluvial flâneur, Ken White.

The area is no stranger to artificial boundaries – around quarter of a mile away from the source of Border Ditch there was the infamous wall of Alexandra Crescent.  It was built by the developer of a private road in 1926 to prevent those on the Downham Estate being able to walk through the new middle class housing towards Bromley.  It never had planning permission, but the over two metre boundary, topped with broken glass was to last until 1950. (More information & picture source)

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The Ordnance Survey note boundary markers both within the Chinbrook Meadows and at the bottom of Oakbrook Close.  They seem to no longer exist – I certainly couldn’t find them and they haven’t been spotted by a follower of the blog who is tracker of boundary markers – the earliest maps note they were on trees though so even if the trees are still there the marks probably won’t be – however, nowhere did I see any arboreal girth approaching 200 year years (a substantial tree in 1860 plus the intervening time period)…

Back to the Border Ditch, it is no longer the border for much its last few metres, the Local Government Boundary Commission agreed to requests from both Bromley and Lewisham to shift the boundary to the far side  of the railway in 1991.  The dashed line is the ‘new’ boundary; the non-dashed one the pre-1991 boundary.  So it seems that the watershed is probably the only definitely fixed boundary – boroughs and counties are man-made constructs and as we have seen even streams change course, in this case diverted at least.

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Following the Quaggy – Suburbia and Rural South East London

An earlier post followed the  Kyd Brook (the name given to the Quaggy in its first few miles) from its two main sources to the confluence – submerged beneath the edge of suburbia of the western edge of Petts Wood.  The Ordnance Survey map surveyed in 1894 below, shows where we left the river, close to the former Town Court.
kydmap1The post-development Kyd Brook is submerged beneath suburban streets and, while the roads are too busy to be listening for the sounds of water beneath manhole covers, the course is clear – the miniature valley of the newly  combined Kyd Brook is obvious where Ryecroft Road meets Queensway.

The river remains submerged as it flows under the railway and then parallel to the former Green Lane, now Tudor Way – there are no obvious remnants of Elizabethan times here although perhaps a nod to the arts and crafts elements of some of the housing.

Kyd Brook emerges from its concrete casing just before being bridged by Petts Wood Road, its emergence is greeted by a dissipation of the traffic noise.  We are in the ‘high quality estate in a rural setting’ that the 1920s developer of Petts Wood, Basil Scruby intended when he secured an option to buy 400 acres of woodland and strawberry fields in 1927.  Like Cameron Corbett at Hither Green 30 years before, he recognised the importance of the railway and built the station before the homes.

The front lawns are neatly manicured in what is now expensive suburbia, but parallel to Crossway runs Kyd Brook, between the gardens – it is less constrained by expectations and providing a more natural counterpoint to the street fronts.  Of course, appearances must be kept up, and there are quaint colonnaded bridges on the side roads as the river passes.

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Oddly, for a while, one of the neighbouring streets was home to Charles de Gaulle who lived at 41 Birchwood Road for a few months after the fall of France in 1940. He may have admired Kyd Brook as it crossed Crossway, providing the boundary between two houses, a pleasant alternative to privet or chestnut fencing.

 

Kyd Brook is soon to disappear from view again – crossing Hazelmere Way it turns sharp west through the back gardens and alongside another railway line and is then buried for around 500 metres.   The follower of the Brook dips under the tracks and enters a different world, although it is still Petts Wood.  The arboreal buffer bought for the National Trust to prevent Basil Scruby’s developments extending further northwards.  Running Past has been here before when attempting to trace some of the tributaries of the about to be Quaggy

When visited almost a year ago, the Wood was a morass of mud; it was difficult to disentangle flooded paths and ditches from streams called ‘Ditch.’ At the end of September, while the two arms of the most easterly of the streams, Petts Wood Ditch, were flowing, some of the unnamed ditches were dry, even to the touch.  Petts Wood Ditch used to join Kyd Brook close to the pedestrian tunnel under the railway, but an abundance of wetland plants alongside the path for a while suggests that the confluence may have been moved by Scruby’s contractors.

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Kyd Brook emerges from an impenetrably dark tunnel under the railways and is briefly followed by a path before heading across the only really rural part of its course – the NT Tong Farm, part of the Hawkwood Estate. There are several small unnamed streams that come down the hillside from the higher parts of Chislehurst – the confluences are all unseen and all covered in an earlier post on the Estate.

There are several small visible streams emerging from the south-west following field edges before being piped under the path to emerge from pipes on the southerly bank of the still Kyd Brook.  There is plenty of bird life along the river at this point – although no kites – the Anglo-Saxon meaning of Kidbrooke and presumably Kyd Brook is “the brook where the kites were seen”.

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Back in the suburbia of Chislehurst, Kyd Brook is left behind and the river becomes the more familiar Quaggy, but is immediately ‘lost’ to view having been carefully ‘screened’ first.  It emerges briefly in a private estate – somewhat less grand than those around its westerly source upstream.

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The Quaggy is soon again unseen, but it has created an impressive valley, around 50 metres deep, presumably shaped in times when the river was more of a torrent than it now is.  Railway engineers have purloined the valley at this point and the Quaggy disappears from view under Chislehurst station.   The submerged parts seems greater than in the past – which skirted around the edge of the now demolished Bickley Hall. The stables were designed by Ernest Newton, the architect behind the Baring Hall pub, St Swithuns Church on Hither Green Lane and Lochaber Hall.

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A rather circuitous wander around the embanked railway sees the river emerge in Bickley, while it is in the open, behind the veritable mixture of architectural styles of Lower Camden, vantage points are few are far between and with several of those the greenery is in such abundance that the Quaggy is audible but barely visible.

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The Quaggy dips again under the railway’s earthworks, to emerge again alongside Sundridge Avenue, its course largely constrained by unnatural concrete banks.  After crossing Elmstead Lane, the river disappears into the grounds of the former mansion of Sundridge Park – now a golf course and conference centre.  We will return there another day.

 

 

Following the Quaggy – The Two Kyd Brooks

The relatively high area around Keston and Locksbottom  is the source for dozens of springs and small waterways feeding the Rivers Cray, Ravensbourne and the Quaggy, itself a tributary of the Ravensbourne, although around here it is known as Kyd Brook – not to be confused with the Upper, Middle and Lower Kid Brooks which are a trio of tributaries entering much further downstream.

The sources of the Kyd Brook are rather confused and, due to strictly enforced private land ownership, hidden from public view.  There are two main sources – an easterly branch and a westerly counterpart – this post follows them to their confluence.

The Eastern Branch

The easterly source appears to be a spring in private land which, from current OS maps seems have been dammed to form private lakes post-World War 2 (they didn’t exist in pre WW2 maps). They are invisible to all but the cartographically literate (and the owners) – the very dense hedge is as near as it gets in terms of viewing the source.

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The course is easy to follow beyond the A21, the land slopes away gently northwards; modern maps indicate sections of the young river may be visible in the back gardens of Bennetts Way and Hilda Vale Road but, alas, not to the suburban explorer.  There is a small notch in Starts Hill Road where the river would have once flowed; progress following Kyd Brook downstream is blocked by allotments, but it is there where the eastern route emerges once more into the open.  On a Friday morning, despite the warm autumnal sun, the allotment holders were absent, so the earliest view was the river emerging onto the eastern edge of the delightfully named Tugmutton Common (also known by the far more prosaic Farnborough Recreation Ground).

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Kyd Brook hugs the edge of the park, it is possible to follow it for a while – the river squeezes between the back gardens of Lovibonds Avenue and Grasmere Gardens before disappearing from view just beyond Lovibonds Avenue Screen   which stops debris entering and blocking the culvert.  It wasn’t always thus, until post-war development the river was above ground, as the map surveyed in 1948 shows.
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There seems to be another small tributary rising somewhere around Darrick Wood, it is clear on OS maps, I vaguely remember this from running an old route of the Orpington 10k, but I didn’t re-investigate on the ground.  It joins before the eastern branch traverses Crofton Road.

Beyond Crofton Road, the river enters the delightful woodland of Crofton Heath, it cuts a small valley through the (just) turning trees – several wagtails were enjoying the dappled sunlight, alas, my shutter finger was not quick enough to capture them.  The river eventually emerges from the woodland and skirts fields with horses, the dividing fence with several encouragements not to feed them, before it disappears from view at another ‘screen’ on the descent into Petts Wood.

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The Western Branch
The westerly source is a few hundred metres away in Ninehams Wood, this too is out of bounds, but the owners here are a little less subtle about keeping out the fluvial flâneur – a mixture of razor wire and threatening signage every few metres along the public right of way that skirts the woodland.

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There probably wouldn’t have been that much to see though had I been brave enough to ignore the warning – there was little sign of water in one of the driest Septembers on record.  There was a dip in the path with a small gully and ‘screen’ which to stop debris entering the pipe that would take Kyd Brook northwards.

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Even following a right of way parallel to the nascent Quaggy proved harder than expected – there was a massive wooden gate to the private estate which proved hard to open and one of the locals seemed reluctant to accept that there was a public right of way through the opulent modern pastiches of architectural styles past.  Back in the civilisation of the A21, the course was clear to see, there is a clear dip in the road adjacent to Ye Olde Whyte Lyon.  While there was no evidence of water – it was there in the past as an old postcard shows (Source – eBay Feb 2016).

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It would then have crossed the current Princess Royal Hospital site.  Like many current hospitals, it had its origins as a workhouse.  It goes back to 1844 and there is much more on the site at the Bromley page of the workhouses website, before later becoming the Farnborough Hospital.  The site was re-branded and rebuilt as part of the disastrous Private Finance Initiative scheme of 2003, its financial difficulties nearly led to the partial closure of another hospital within the wider Ravensbourne catchment – my local one, Lewisham.  Although after protests and legal action, the closure of A&E and partial closure of the maternity section were prevented.

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A couple of hundred metres along the road towards Orpington, a clear course for the young river appears on Tugmutton Common, marked on older OS maps as Broadstreet Green (see above), although it isn’t even damp to the touch; maybe there is a flow in wetter conditions though.  There is another ditch at right angles to Crofton Road, there is water in this, although not much, and while the ditch continues, meandering alongside the edge of the common oddly to the base of a tree, but the water peters out quite quickly.

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The junction between the two is made underground, but the combined source emerges out into the open on the opposite side of Crofton Road, hugging a narrow space between gardens.

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The river enters Crofton Heath and flows initially more or less parallel to its eastern sibling, although there is less of a valley and the path alongside it is much less well defined.  It slowly comes closer and it too is culverted under suburbia, with a cul-de-sac taking its name.

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The confluence between the two branches is close by – near the junction of Ryecroft Road and Kenilworth Road.  The valley of the combined Kyd Brook is clear a few metres further downstream as Ryecroft Road meets Queensway.  The journey downstream through Petts Wood and Chislehurst continues here.

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W. G. Grace in South East London

WG Grace was born near Bristol and the vast majority of his career was spent playing for Gloucestershire and England. The blog touched on his final cricketing home a few months ago whilst exploring the route of the Little Quaggy in Mottingham and, with the centenary of his death approaching, it seem apposite to spend some time exploring the ‘swansong’ of his career in SE London.

Grace played his final Test in 1899 and severed his almost career long relationship with Gloucestershire the same year; the reason for the latter was that he had accepted an offer from the Crystal Palace Company to set up a new county team, the London County Club – Grace was secretary, manager and club captain of the new County club. He was given an annual salary of £600, probably very well paid for the time, and worth around £58,000 at 2015 prices, so quite moderate compared to the earnings of the current cricketing elite.

Grace was already 51 when the 1900 season started. The matches played by London County were given ‘first class’ status but were not part of the County Championship which had started ten years earlier – Grace had opened the batting with his brother Edward in the very first County Championship match against Yorkshire. The lack of involvement in the County Championship meant that Grace was able to attract various leading lights of the days to play for London County in what were effectively exhibition matches, whilst they retained their attachment to their counties. Notably amongst these was CB Fry, who retained his link to Sussex.

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WG Grace in London County colours – source Wikimedia Commons

The County had an inauspicious start losing to Surrey at the Oval by an innings in mid April 1900. The first home match at Crystal Palace was a draw against the same opposition three weeks later, both were the cricketing equivalents of pre-season friendlies.. The club played another eleven first class matches that initial season – although almost half were against teams other that counties – such as the Oxbridge Universities and the M.C.C.

Grace was the club’s big attraction though and he still averaged 37.09 with the bat in 1902, scoring 1187 runs; but as Grace’s form deteriorated with age, so did attendances and the London County lost its First Class status in 1904 and while it survived for another few seasons it folded in 1908.

One of Grace’s biographers, Robert Low, noted that

In truth, London County was never the serious cricketing project its backers had envisaged but more of a jolly swansong for the Champion in his twilight years.

The cricket ground was located roughly where the decaying 1970s athletics stadium is now located. It was also used for FA Cup finals, the 1905 final being the only surviving panorama picture (below) of the stadium. The stadium was taken over by Cristal Palace football club in 1905 who remained there until the park was requisitioned by the military in WW1, and slightly later by a speedway team that was later to become New Cross Rangers (covered in the blog in 2014).

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Whilst at Crystal Palace, Grace was also involved with lawn bowls persuading the Crystal Palace Company to turn some of the tennis courts into bowling greens and was instrumental in creating England’s first indoor bowling green under the glass within the Crystal Palace. He was also involved in some of the early internationals and governance of the sport.

Whilst playing for London County Grace lived in nearby Sydenham at 7 Lawrie Park Road, a house called St Andrews.  The house is no longer there is a new development there with a maroon plaque and the roads either side are named Cricketers Walk and Doctors Close.

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He then moved to Mottingham in 1909, living at Fairmount on Mottingham Lane, now a residential home.  The plaque was unveiled in 1966 by Stuart Chiesman, Chairman of Kent County Cricket Club, who was a son of one the founders of the Chiesman’s department store in Lewisham – which had been founded in 1884 – and was taken over by House of Fraser in 1972.

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Grace played for the local team, Eltham, who were based at Chapel Farm, the current location of Coldharbour Leisure Centre – where he played his final game on 8 August 1914 although he neither batted nor bowled. The last match he had batted in was against Grove Park, where he had scored an unbeaten 69 a couple of weeks earlier.

Grace died on October 23 1915, following a major heart attack, and was buried in the family grave at Beckenham Crematorium and Cemetery in Elmer’s End, close to the resting place of Thomas Crapper.

Going with the Flow – In Search of Fairy Hall Flow

When it comes to the naming of the tributaries of the Quaggy there seems to have been a decided lack of imagination – of those the blog has already visited we have seen Upper, Middle and Lower Kid Brooks, the Hither Green Quaggy and the Little Quaggy.  Those to come, at the time of writing in July 2015, include Border Ditch, Milk Ditch and Grove Park Ditch – none are that inspiring, even the Quaggy itself, probably derives from ‘quagmire.’

However, the small stream Fairy Hall Flow more than makes up for this – its delightful title coming from an earlier appellation of Eltham College, but as that is mid-way down-stream we’ll return to that later.

The exact source isn’t entirely clear although it is possible to track the Flow to Elmstead Wood on the 1907 surveyed 25” OS map, beyond that it is a little unclear.  On the ground though there are what look like intermittent streams in that area of the Wood, one with a small plank bridge – but after the long dry spell prior to my run along the course of the stream they were distinctly water free – I do remember more water in some of these ditches before when running past on Green Chain Walk.

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This is old oak woodland, although the name suggests otherwise – Elmstead, ‘the place where elm trees grow’ was first recorded in 1320 and the woods were part of the Bishop of Rochester’s estate and used to provide timber for shipbuilding.

For the most part, the Flow follows Beaconsfield Road northwards, although it diverts from the road in various places – such as at the northern end of Framlingham Crescent where there is a tell-tale dip 40 metres from Beaconsfield Road.  Until the 1930s this was farmland, and the Flow ran free.

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The farmland was part of Court Farm (previously known as Crews Farm) and was one of two farms that were part of the Fairy Hall estate – the other Mottingham Farm, was on Mottingham Lane. The 244 acres of Court Farm were acquired by London County Council (LCC) in the early 1930s and around 2300 homes were planned for a projected 12,000 residents.  The first home was occupied in 1935. With an early, now replaced, school at Castlecombe Road finished in 1937 for the burgeoning population.

The homes will have presumably transferred to the London Borough of Bromley when the successor of the LCC, the Greater London Council (GLC), lost its housing powers in 1980, and those not sold under Right to Buy being subsequently transferred to Broomleigh Housing Association in 1992.

The farm itself was at a bend in the Flow, around the present location of Dorset Road Infants’ School.  Then it’s North along Court Farm Road to the place it takes its name from.

Fairy Hall was an early 18th century country mansion, initially called Fairy Hill (there is a park of this name about half a mile away, skirted by a buried Little Quaggy).  It was home to a variety of the wealthy of Georgian and Victorian England – including the Tory grandee Baron Aspley of Aspley who became 2nd Earl of Bathurst and James Hartley, a shipping magnate.  His widow, Jane, was the final private owner.

In 1889 it was taken over by the Royal Naval School, which had outgrown its original buildings in New Cross, now Goldsmiths College.  The School closed in 1910 but the building was bought by the London Missionary Society’s School for the Sons and Orphans of Missionaries in 1912. This had been based in an imposing building in Independents Road in Blackheath, their previous ‘home’ was in turn taken over by the Church Army, and more recently, by the private Blackheath Hospital.

Presumably as the number of missionaries reduced, the potential clientele needed to be changed and it has since become a fee paying school, Eltham College.

One of the school’s most famous pupils was Eric Liddell, a son of missionaries, he was one of the finest sprinters of his generation, winning the 400 metre gold in the Paris Olympics of 1924 in a World Record time of 47.6 seconds. Liddell had to pull out of the 100 metres as his religious beliefs prevented him running on a Sunday. His style was ungainly but effective – his obituary in the Guardian described him as ‘probably the ugliest runner who ever won an Olympic championship.’ His athletic career was portrayed in the film ‘Chariots of Fire.’

Like his parents, he moved to China as a missionary in 1925, remaining there until his death in a Japanese internment camp – probably from a brain tumour.  The sports centre that is at Eltham College, takes his name.

There is a fine façade to the former Fairy Hall, but it is hidden behind car parks, cricket nets, large shrubs and signage.  The picture below shows the Hall in its prime (source here).  It had a large lakes, fed by the Flow, including a boathouse – see map below which was surveyed during the 1860s.

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The lakes at Eltham College were filled in years ago – the course of the Flow thereafter is relatively easy to follow the gentle rise upward of  the contours of Mottingham Lane mean that there was only one escape for the water – along what is now King Johns Walk to join the Little Quaggy.  King John’s Walk (named after the son of Edward II) is an old lane linking the royal residence of Eltham Palace with hunting estates to the south.

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It seems likely that another small stream joined the Flow around here. Its source was around  to Chapel Farm and followed  Mottingham Road and behind Leysdown Road to stream junction around King John’s Walk. The stream was buried when the area was developed but still forms the boundary between Greenwich and Bromley.  As it seems nameless, and it runs close to the Porcupine pub – I would suggest Porcupine Brook. The Porcupine itself seems to have an uncertain future, bought by Lidl, although a planning permission was rejected and there were plans to set it up as a community run pub.

As with the rest of the route along the Flow there is no visual sign of the confluences – the streams are underground – the Little Quaggy emerges into meadows alongside the Sidcup bypass a hundred metres or so downstream.  Whether the Flow is actually flowing at the point it joins the Little Quaggy is a different matter, the waters of the Flow may well have been diverted elsewhere – with culverted streams there is sometimes a giveaway sound of water rushing under manholes even on a dry day.  Sadly there was none of this with the Fairy Hall Flow, it is seemingly consigned to the work of cartographers past and the Environment Agency flood planners – its name deserves more than that.