London’s Royal Greenery. Monumental Landmarks and the Urban Forest

I grew up on the outskirts of London, officially considered a ‘Kentish Man’ with a dialect best described as ‘Estuary’. Nevertheless, my parents were Londoners to the core, and places like Greenwich and Blackheath hold a significant place in my happiest childhood memories. I still remember gazing across the River Thames at the barren land that would eventually become Canary Wharf. Over the years, the London skyline has transformed remarkably, with the old and the new intertwining in a way that enhances rather than confuses the scene.

I fondly recall days when I was granted a day off from school and could accompany my stepdad to work. He was a mobile engineer, travelling throughout the city to repair machinery. Carrying his ridiculously heavy toolkit and helping him find the right screwdriver was a much-appreciated alternative to double French and RE. It also meant sitting in the front seat of his Ford Escort estate, excitedly watching as we darted down side streets on our way to jobs, taking shortcuts. Those adventures allowed us to play Status Quo cassettes enthusiastically, and we would refuel at backstreet greasy spoon cafés. Looking back, I realise I learned more during those days than I ever did at school. While it seemed like just a ‘day in the life’ at the time, it has become clear, some forty years later, how cherished those moments truly were.

I moved away in my late teens, and London began to play a smaller role in my life. However, the impression it left continues to draw my curiosity and instill a desire to maintain a deep connection with the city. So, it was a real treat to spend a long-overdue weekend there. My aim for this particular wander was to continue embracing a slower pace, to observe, and to think. Allowing myself to be a tourist in my hometown. Before I delve into my reflections, I should mention that this piece is largely positive. I make no excuses for this, as I had a lovely time. Yet, I acknowledge that London, like many cities, faces significant challenges. I ask the reader to understand that I am not naively viewing the city through rose-tinted glasses; rather, I am reflecting on my experiences and feelings at the time.

A continuous wall lines the Bayswater Road, directing attention to the stream of cars, buses, taxis, and electric bikes that traverse the route to and from the city centre. This wall conceals the world hidden behind the brickwork, separating it from the motorised procession. Entering through the wrought iron gates into Kensington Gardens offers a Narnian-style reveal, transporting the spectator into a completely different world. Is it busy? Yes. But that doesn’t matter. The walk was about exploring a route leading through Hyde Park and finishing in Trafalgar Square. My goal was to take what I’ve attempted in my previous posts, connecting landscape with emotional resonance, and see if that same theme could emerge again. So, with only a loose plan and a willingness to divert for no particular reason, we set off.

It’s hard not to appreciate how beautifully Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park come together to create a stunning 650 acres of greenery. That’s pretty incredible, especially considering the location. As I started my walk, I was filled with a feeling of space and purpose. With the lovely May weather, it seemed like everyone was out enjoying the sunshine. Families were having picnics, tourists were ambling about, and joggers and cyclists were weaving through the crowd.

Standing by the gentle ripples of the Long Water, patrolled by a small yet diligent bevy of swans, I felt transported back to similar scenes many of us treasure from the countryside, such as those I get to enjoy in Somerset. This expansive body of water connects to the Serpentine and almost completely hides the city’s buildings, merely a mile away, offering a comforting sense of seclusion. It serves as a soothing focal point amidst the stunning variety of trees and grassland that envelop it. This urban forest, rooted in the royal hunting grounds established by Henry VIII, is not only impressive in its diversity but also reflects the care taken to maintain it. The London Plane, Lime, Sweet Chestnut, and Oak trees come together to create a nurturing landscape for anyone in need of refuge or sanctuary. Sat writing now, it has become clear that for me to do this place any justice would run into far more words than is acceptable. With that in mind, I shall simply say that it is somewhere that hides so many secrets in terms of its flora, fauna, monuments, and beauty, that one visit would never be enough.

One thing that London is certainly famous for is its vast array of monuments and statues. The Royal Parks host many of these and provide a fitting setting and, as I found out, an often moving one. Having visited the astonishing Albert Memorial, standing like a golden guard for the Royal Albert Hall, we found our way to a location that was more subtle in its execution. Nonetheless, it was seemingly more powerful in the message that it was designed to convey. The Princess Diana Memorial Fountain, opened in 2004, takes the shape of one continuous granite loop with water cascading in both directions, into a calm pool at the bottom. The water, drawn from an aquifer deep underground, bubbles and flows over a surface that is rippled, stepped, and smooth to the touch. I remember that at the time, the fountain drew cynicism and plenty of raised eyebrows for its design. A rather British trait, I fear. Nicknamed ‘The Drain’ by some, there was a feeling that it was not impressive enough to commemorate a woman universally loved by so many. Indeed, it would not be hyperbole to suggest that her actions before and then after her untimely death have done more to shape the modern Monarchy than any other person. The fountain reflects Diana’s life, symbolising her spirit of openness. This has been achieved through its ability to sit unobtrusively in the landscape, allowing people to interact with it. This isn’t only somewhere to stand and look. It is a place to feel with your feet, rest your legs, listen, and watch. Toddlers paddle and play, whilst others just chat. It provides a connection with the memory of such a revered character through its simplicity and sensory invitation. We stayed for much longer here than anticipated, watching the world go by and failing miserably to take any photos that might do the place justice.

Rested, we pottered on past the rose gardens and a further avenue of trees to shelter from the increasing warmth. At Hyde Park Corner, the rather abrupt reality of city life came sharply into focus. What is essentially a ’roundabout’ not only houses the Wellington Arch as a focal point but is also flanked by the striking New Zealand and Australian War Memorials. With the bronze ‘Angel of Peace’ riding triumphantly on her Chariot of War, we were again stopped in our tracks. I know that we are all guilty of taking things for granted when we see them regularly. Familiarity often creates a more hazy view. However, this place, so functional in its requirements to keep things moving, remains no less significant or poignant than when it was originally conceived.

If any further reminder was needed that Spring had truly sprung, we were both struck by the signs of early-onset hay fever. Unabated, and believing that ‘Piriton’ would be readily available somewhere soon, we sneezed our way through the magnificent gateway, onward and down Constitution Hill towards Buckingham Palace.

I can clearly remember a time when being driven in London meant a couple of spins around Queen Victoria (another flamboyant roundabout) and then stopping at the palace gates to see if the Queen was in. No longer is this an opportunity afforded to those who visit, which is probably rightly so. The pedestrianised esplanade now on offer was busy with people from every corner of the world, taking in the scene and posing for photos. The thing that provided more of a treat for me, though, was the final stretch of this wander along the Mall. Festooned on both sides by huge Union flags, following the VE Day celebrations, this most splendid of avenues drew the eye and feet with its perspective. Again, the volume of people present didn’t detract from the enjoyment, with the overriding atmosphere being one of calm and spoken voices. Indeed, I think the level of awe that a location provides is often best judged by the metric of silence it creates.

Having taken one last look back to admire the view, we moved on to what would become a somewhat ironic end to this particular wander. We had spent around three hours bathing not only in sunshine, but also in a truly exceptional blend of memorials and landscape. My overriding emotion was that of pride. The care and attention to detail we witnessed along the way were a mere preview in terms of everything that was there to discover. The sense of history here is palpable. Not just from the centuries past, but also in those more recent moments and people that remain pertinent and raw in the minds of those who visit. There is a timeline and evolution to it that seems effortlessly comfortable and effective within its surroundings. Therefore, it was a surprise that on entering Trafalgar Square, we were met by a cacophony of noise. Speakers, slightly distorted by the volume, pumped rock and punk. Huge yellow banners that declared, ‘Abolish the Monarchy’ and ‘Down with the Crown’ were joined by a mechanical T-Rex wearing a crown. There was a tangible sense of vexation here that was hard to ignore. That said, Nelson appeared unmoved up there on his column.

Nevertheless, this scene felt like a fitting conclusion. It affirmed that we live in a country where it is ok to exert the right to demonstrate and have an opinion. Barely a few feet away from the hallmarks of an institution that dates back centuries (and clearly gets the punters in), we had a group of people exercising their right to want something different. Their reasons and motives are valid, and these beliefs were not being quashed or restricted. In doing so, it offered a direct contradiction to what my experience and emotional reaction had been up until then. Ultimately, I believe it would take an awful lot more to change my mind. I mean, who on earth would we have as President? With that to ponder, it was time for refreshment.

London. Further wandering required….