I’m a firm believer in the Latin phrase, ‘Solvitur ambulando’; ‘It solves itself by walking’. Whenever I get stuck on a tricky bit of plotting, I close down my computer and step out onto the streets of Battersea. I tend to take the same route each time, one that’s specially devised to get a crimewriter’s synapses firing again.
First stop is the area known as ‘The Sisters’. The streets may be named after some rather prim-sounding Victorian siblings – Ursula, Edna, Orbel and Octavia – but they’re bang up to date when it comes to crimewriting, thanks to the recent ITV drama, Marcella. Marcella is an amnesiac fictional detective who lives on the corner of Octavia Street, and the Swedish writer-director of the series seemed to luxuriate in contrasting her affluent villa with the high-rises of the Surrey Lane Estate behind it. A second series is scheduled for later this year.
Feeling suitably Scandinavian, I head north for St Mary’s Church. The windswept graveyard on the banks of the Thames may be atmospheric, but it’s what lies inside the beautiful Georgian building that interests me – a stained-glass window dedicated to the poet and artist William Blake, who got married here in 1782. The dark, prophetic mysticism of Blake’s work has long been a source of inspiration to thriller writers – not least Thomas Harris, whose first Hannibal Lecter novel, Red Dragon, is named after a Blake painting. Sure enough, above the image of Blake in the window is a fiery representation of Jerusalem, red wings emerging from the gloom.
I arc around Battersea Church Road into Parkgate Road. All this walking has worked up an appetite, so what better place for a pit-stop than the Butcher & Grill. The coffee machine rumbles opposite an enormous counter of cut meat which would satisfy Dr Lecter himself. I resist the gargantuan homemade sausage rolls and restrict myself to a Danish pastry.
Once in Battersea Park, I follow the Riverside Terrace and stare across the water at Chelsea. My own thrillers are set in Gibraltar, and the protagonist, a lawyer named Spike Sanguinetti, often finds himself gazing across the Bay of Gibraltar towards Spain. So near that you can almost touch it – yet a different world. He’d understand this view, I think.
I continue through the middle of the park, passing Battersea Power Station on my left, so evocatively used in the film version of PD James’s futuristic crime classic, The Children of Men. My last destination is at the other end of the park – Albert Palace Mansions, the first London address of my favourite crimewriter, Graham Greene. Greene is more usually associated with Clapham – a blue plaque adorns his townhouse overlooking the Common – but it was in Battersea that he lived when he was a struggling novelist. The mansion block is on Lurline Gardens, and it faces away from the park, its rear view blocked by the flats of Prince of Wales Drive. Greene started out here, I remind myself, and look what happened to him. Time to get back to work.
© Thomas Mogford, March 2017
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Dear Thomas,
Am just a 73 year old retired bank accountant of a British Bank – from Singapore. But also with fond memories of student days in Britain, years before you were born. Your blog and sentimental reminences tally with my own. I view those early days with much nostalgia and wish change had not deprived Britian such a worthy rustic or elegant way of life.
Before today I did not think to write to any author but reading your blog changed that.
By the way your books are a delight and keep my senses tingling, full of expectations for my reading pleasure .
May you live and prosper with your passionate offerings.
Be Blessed.
Sincerely
Tony
August 13 the 2017
Delighted to hear it, Tony. Very kind of you to say. I visited Singapore a long time ago and would love to go back — the street food in particular was amazing. V best, Tom