The Perfect London Walk

Before I left for London, my mother gave me a book called "The Perfect London Walk," that she'd purchased before moving to Europe 20 years ago. It was written by Roger Ebert and two friends, and gave directions to follow what they considered the most perfect walk in the city of London. They admit there are many possibilities for good walks, but this, they say, is the best. I decided to see if they were right.

First, I walked through the sleepy, pleasant village of Highgate in North London, and up the road to Keats House. Sadly the house was closed, but at least I got to see the outside of it.


Then I entered Hampstead Heath. Ironically, I was steps behind an elderly American man with the same book in his hand. We passed each other several times over the course of the day.


From the top of Parliament Hill, the highest spot in the heath, you can see central and east London.


But I'd rather look at the heath itself.


Some say that Boudicca is buried under this mound; others say she's buried under track 5 at Paddington Station. In any case, the mound is gated and locked.


Perhaps the place where Keats used to walk, and where he once met Coleridge?


What a perfect November day...


This is what much of the heath looks like.


(Please pause and appreciate my skills taking pictures of myself...)


Off the heath, and to Kenwood House. Its grounds merge into the heath, but I came for the house itself, which has now been transformed into an art gallery.



The library, before I knew you weren't supposed to take pictures inside. Wow.


Highgate Cemetery. The very old section is open by pre-booked tour only (just one of the changes since my book was published), but the new section is open to any visitors. It's extremely crowded, and still fairly old.


Small paths crisscross the huge cemetery everywhere, sometimes weaving around the plethora of graves.


Marx is the most famous person buried here...


...but the sociologist Herbert Spencer is also here...


...as is George Eliot. She's buried close to her lover, and while her husband is in the same cemetery, he's a row over.


Stone ivy meets the real thing everywhere.


I think I agree with the authors of my book. This might just be the most perfect walk, out of many wonderful walks, in London. And London must be the only city in the world in which November is such a pleasant, beautiful month.