On the face of it, Wormwood Scrubs is not particularly appealing. I don’t mean the prison, but the common in the north-eastern corner of Hammersmith and Fulham. It is 170 acres of unsupervised scrubland with enough wooded areas to attract a smattering of predatory homosexuals – a poor man’s Hampstead Heath. Often, as I walk the dog around the perimeter, the only people I encounter are single men in tight T-shirts who eye me enquiringly as we pass. I respond by looking pointedly at Mali, as if to say: ‘Can’t you see I’m walking my dog, not cruising for action?’ Then again, Mali is a Cavapoochon, so perhaps they don’t get the message.
Caroline is not a fan, preferring the more genteel Gunnersbury Park. She points out that there are always a smattering of discarded needles and used condoms on the main pathway and, because it’s populated by homeless people in the warmer months, human faeces in the bushes which Mali invariably sniffs out. She’s not that keen on the prison, either, which dominates the southern edge. For her, it’s a reminder of Kent marshes, as depicted by Charles Dickens in Great Expectations, with the risk that an escaped convict might appear as the evening light begins to fade. Whenever I suggest going there, she’s quick to remind me that our friend Johnnie once stumbled across a dead body on the Scrubs.
But I’m rather fond of it. For one thing, it’s only a ten-minute drive from our house in Acton, and for another, it’s easier to park than at Gunnersbury – usually on the residential street abutting the Scrubs’ west side and it costs nothing, which is rare for west London. The fact that you can always find a space points to the main attraction of this windswept little patch of ground: it’s virtually deserted.
Yes, you encounter a few oddballs and the occasional family having a picnic. Sometimes there’s a game on one of the area’s many football pitches. It even includes an area where people can fly drones and model aeroplanes and you spot fathers and sons messing about in there from time to time. But you often see almost no one. I took Mali for a walk last Sunday afternoon and over the course of 90 minutes I didn’t see more than two dozen people. How many other large green spaces in London can you say that about? It’s like Hyde Park after the apocalypse.
The fact it is so under-populated is a bit of a mystery. It certainly doesn’t lack history. In 1812 it was leased by the War Office to exercise cavalry horses and in 1908 the Olympic marathon route from Windsor Castle to the main stadium at White City went across the Scrubs. In 1910 it was the site of the inaugural flight of one of England’s first airships and an airship garage was built soon afterwards, now the home of the Linford Christie Stadium, a neglected running track. It even had its own railway station at one point – St Quintin Park & Wormwood Scrubs – but it was struck by an incendiary bomb in 1940 and never reopened.
Whenever I suggest going there, Caroline reminds me our friend Johnnie once stumbled across a
dead body on the Scrubs
Its present-day attractions include a nature reserve replete with acres of wildflowers, endless blackberry bushes and a decent view of London, with the Shard visible on the eastern horizon. So why is it still an undiscovered gem? I shouldn’t complain because the feeling that you’ve got the place to yourself is its chief attraction, but it’s still curious. Maybe people assume it’s dangerous because it’s in a rather insalubrious part of the city and, unlike the Royal Parks, doesn’t enjoy any special protection from the Metropolitan Police. Indeed, I’ve never seen a police officer on the Scrubs. But I’ve also never witnessed a crime. My 17-year-old son quite often goes there to play football and he’s never been mugged or chased, which is more than can be said about his walk to school. I daresay because so few people go there it’s not a particularly fruitful hunting ground for local criminals.
A few years ago, Queens Park Rangers petitioned Hammersmith and Fulham to convert the Linford Christie Stadium into their new home, a plan bitterly fought by the Friends of Wormwood Scrubs, who oppose any development of the land. Talk about being torn. On the one hand, I want QPR to build a new stadium because their present one is too small. But I also don’t relish the prospect of tens of thousands of football fans traipsing across my beloved Scrubs, leaving a trail of beer cans and fast food packaging behind them. In the end the council refused to grant the club planning permission and I was a bit relieved. The Scrubs is a special place because it’s so deserted and I’d like to keep it that way.
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