Gadabout: CHESTERFIELD Chesterfield is the largest town in Derbyshire, but only because Derby is a city. It lies 10 miles south of Sheffield, sandwiched between the Peak District and the M1 on the edge of an abandoned coalfield. But it's best known for the twisted spire of its parish church, a truly jarring sight on the local skyline, which I inevitably ended up taking far too many photos of. There are alas rather fewer other reasons to visit, at least at present while many attractions are being upgraded, but join me to discover a lot of half-timbered shops, a narrow canal, some street art, a tailoring pioneer and the Rocket man's last resting place. [Visit Chesterfield] [20 photos] The church with the wonky spire is St Mary and All Saints, not just the most famous church in all of Derbyshire but also the largest. It sits on slightly higher ground in an otherwise lowrise town, placing the pinnacle of engineering catastrophe on full public view. Not only does the spire have a 45 degree twist but the tip additionally leans 2.9 metres off centre which is how it manages to look impossibly awry from all angles. There are many stories to explain how the disfigurement occurred, many of them involving virgins and/or the Devil, but the most convincing reason is that when 14th century craftsmen installed insufficient cross-bracing they weren't anticipating the 17th century addition of 32 tons of lead sheeting. up by the shops. Get too close, say within the churchyard itself, and the optical illusion fades somewhat as the lines of perspective converge. The worst place to see it is of course inside the church itself, although you're welcome within and they run tours up the tower on Fridays and Saturdays for a tenner. It is indeed a fine old church, fundamentally medieval but extensively restored by Gilbert Scott in the 1840s, and fortuitously not destroyed in 1961 when a nasty fire came within 3 minutes of engulfing the spire. Do try to ignore the knitted blue sprite tied to the top of the font, an aberration that turns out to be part of a brazenly evangelical treasure hunt for kids. The spire gives its name to all sorts of local organisations and establishments. There's an office block called Spire Walk, a housing estate called The Spires, a new children's home called Spire House and a Spire Cycling Club founded in 1889. The local council features the spire prominently in its logo, more stylistically today than was once the case, and the nickname of League 2 stalwarts Chesterfield FC is 'The Spireites'. The most twisted incarnation I saw was an inking parlour on Sheffield Road called Crooked Spines Tattoo, which is perhaps pushing things too far as if Chesterfield were a one-idea creative town. » At this point I would have gone to the Tourist Information Centre outside but the council closed it last year, preferring to go digital-first to save money. The octagonal rotunda is now only used by roosting pigeons and is currently fenced off while workmen attack the paving outside. There were plans to bring the building back to life as a 'Crooked Spire Experience' but that never made it into the most recent regeneration plans so I assume the idea's dead. » At this point I would have gone to Chesterfield Museum but alas it's long-term closed. It's undergoing an 'ambitious' £17m transformation along with the Pomegranate Theatre nextdoor, and has been since 2022 when the planned reopening date was 2024. It's now 2026, and although I expect the end result will be impressive the temporary absence does substantially reduce the town's visitor draw. » At this point I would have gone to the Market Place, one of England's largest, but it was substantially sealed off. I watched workmen adding canopies for permanent stalls and making gaps in the paving for more trees, this part of the council's consolidation of the remaining traders into a smaller area. Admittedly the market doesn't normally operate on a Tuesday anyway, also the Market Hall is always open with its imposing Italianate tower and contemporary interior, but for the full Chesterfield experience it's basically come back later. The shops are pretty decent though, sprawled across a large pedestrianised area between the church and the Town Hall. Many are in attractive half-timbered premises, this because progressives chose to demolish several streets in the 1920s and the town architect at the time had a penchant for rebuilding in Tudor Revival style. Some of the finest black and white examples are along the delightfully-named Knifesmithgate, indeed stand on the corner with Packers Row and you could almost be in Chester, except the boutiques are less fancy and the most impressive turrety facade now conceals a Premier Inn. [Town Trail] [Black & White Trail] [54 page walk] The Yorkshire Building Society really does trade in a 16th century building, also the Peacock Inn just down the street which may once have been a Tudor Guildhall. The Royal Oak at the heart of The Shambles is even older, although the Victorians eradicated most of the surrounding enclave and all that remains is the twisty medieval street pattern. The most consequential shop must be Britain's first Burtons, opened in 1904 when a Lithuanian immigrant set up as a gentleman's outfitter on Holywell Street. He became Sir Montague Burton and tailored the nation from often-ornate premises, although the Chesterfield store on Burlington Street alas closed in 2016 and is now a particularly large branch of Greggs. The council have been installing public artwork around the town since 1994, including a purple resin puppy in Theatre Yard and a huge steel flower in the middle of the Horns Bridge roundabout. The two most significant works may be those tucked away behind the Future Walk building on West Bars, which is home to the Post Office's Finance Service Centre. One is a Barbara Hepworth called Curved Reclining Form - a tad smaller than I was expecting and with two limestone voids. Opposite is Poise by Angela Conner, seemingly a static stone disc but when it's windy the six strips flap independently and appealingly. Sorry, I should have taken a video rather than a photo. Across the main road is Queen's Park - part cricket ground, part lake, part kickabout and part sports centre. Here an unusual diamond sculpture celebrates the Queen's penultimate jubilee, each of 60 facets engraved with questionably significant events, including the opening of a nearby hospice, heavy local flooding and the founding of Twitter. Chesterfield's chief river is the Rother, the watercourse that ultimately gives Rotherham its name. It's rather slimmer up this end, almost peaceful, although the beginnings of a linear development zone are beginning to intrude with jaggedy houses and a very lonely-looking office block. This is also where the Chesterfield Canal begins, diverging at an insignificant bend in the woods before wiggling off to join the Trent near Gainsborough. I only walked as far as the first lock at Tatton Mill Bridge, a one-gate affair through an unnervingly narrow arch (as is the way on this very early canal). Technically the first five miles are navigable but after that a disused tunnel breaks the connection to the rest of the canal network so no, you can't bring a boat. The town's most famous resident may surprise you, that is unless you've spotted the statue outside the station of a man holding a prototype locomotive. It's George Stephenson, railway builder extraordinaire, who chose to spend the last ten years of his life living in Chesterfield. What drew him here initially was the North Midland Railway, then that while digging a tunnel near Clay Cross he discovered coal and iron deposits and made a pretty penny by establishing a company to exploit them. He lived at Tapton House, a grand brick mansion on Castle Hill overlooking the railway, before dying of pleurisy in 1848 and being buried in a vault at Holy Trinity across the valley. In 1925 a later resident gifted the house to the town along with its surrounding parkland. It's still free to wander round, apart from the golf course, although probably best not approached via the ridiculously steep footpath I clambered up. Tapton House spent many years as a boarding school and most recently council offices, although it's been empty since 2018 awaiting a new purpose. It was uncanny to walk through the great man's gates, past a horse-mounting block the great man likely used, to a carriage-turning loop in front of the great man's front door. What I also discovered was a planning application pinned to a post, its deadline recently passed, proposing turning the empty house and its immediate surroundings into 20 residential units. They'll be high-spec because living up here is not for paupers, and are described within the spiel as "A Harmonious Blend of Heritage and Modernity". But there'll also be security gates and private gardens so I doubt anyone'll be able to access George's back lawn quite as freely as I managed, before yomping back down the hill and catching his railway home.

East Midlands quiz Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire. Derbyshire A) Bigsofa B) Rugbolt C) Nicercub D) Localmatch E) Glancearea F) Typeamaze G) Ringereach H) Yearntasted I) Gossipvalue J) Glazesurgery K) Cookproperly L) Dollarsweight M) Babywrapjacket        Nottinghamshire N) Tiepigs O) Jobbribe P) Freshboat Q) Heavyhive R) Saganbulk S) Hispasture T) Openercost U) Simplymick V) Kanyespanwade W) Aboutmodelcar X) Directionhealthy Y) Schwarzenegger Z) Dividetimbertrees (answer in the comments box, and please no more than one guess each)

Hyperlocal Signage News Delays are expected to continue until October. It's probably related to the aforementioned sewer repairs. But it has a misplaced apostrophe. I wish someone would take it away.

On 5th August 2024 London woke to the news that Banksy had painted a goat on a wall in Kew. Over the next eight days an entire menagerie emerged across the capital, and it filled the August silly season gap brilliantly. [original bloggage] Two of the animals vanished almost immediately, but I wondered how many of the remaining seven were still visible one year later. Monday 5th: Goat (Kew Green) And straight away it's a no. The goat had been painted on a wall facing the south end of Kew Bridge, part of the former Caxton Name Plate Manufacturing Company building. It was promptly covered by protective plastic but more recently the entire building's been covered with scaffolding so you can see nothing. And this is because it turns out Banksy painted his goat on a building with planning permission for a roof extension, and four new sash windows were proposed on this formerly blank wall. More pertinently the owners removed the goat in its entirety on 7th February, indeed there are fairly startling photos of workmen on a raised platform hacking out a huge chunk of the wall, so all the scaffolding's really shielding is a hole. Don't expect to see the goat again, it's proved a nice little earner. Tuesday 6th: Elephants (Chelsea) In good news this one's in better shape that last time I saw it. These two elephants appeared on an end terrace along Edith Grove in Chelsea, painted on two blanked out windows. Alas within a couple of days someone came along with a ladder and stuck lacy stripes over one of them, presumably thinking they were improving it, but thankfully that's since been carefully removed. The elephants are also the only surviving artwork not to have been screened over, thus now the least toyed-with. Wednesday 7th: Monkeys (Spitalfields) Imagine three monkeys dangling from the Overground viaduct crossing Brick Lane. You'll have to imagine because on 5th December contractors working for TfL arrived with a boom lift and jetwashed the lot of them. When pushed TfL said "unauthorised art can attract more graffiti, which encourages trespassing and anti-social activity that poses a danger to the operational railway and customers. This piece therefore had to be removed to prevent possible disruption", which on a street defined by colourful graffiti is plainly bolx. But if you look carefully the three monkeys are still there in vague outline, so they didn't do a very good job. Thursday 8th: Wolf (Peckham) Friday 9th: Pelicans (Walthamstow) I first saw this when it was fresh, two pelicans necking fish from Bonners chippy just north of Walthamstow High Street. It took a while to be shielded by plastic because the family were on their six week summer break when Banksy came and painted it. They're abroad again at present, returning Thursday 4th September, but the artwork's still safely in place and possibly the greatest of the bunch. If you come for a gander in the autumn be aware that a small bag of chips now costs £4.20 because art doesn't come cheap. Saturday 10th: Cat (Cricklewood) Sunday 11th: Piranhas (Ludgate Hill) This was my favourite, not least because I arrived so early that the social media rush hadn't yet arrived. I thus had the sentry box on Ludgate Hill entirely to myself, nipping in and out to admire the painted piranhas from both sides. The crowds came soon after, then a ring of protective barriers so nobody could get up close, than the City of London took steps to protect their property by removing the entire box and placing it off limits outside the Guildhall. It's still there but now shifted inside to an entrance corridor where presumably you can brush past it midweek, but I turned up on Sunday when the City sleeps so could only peer through the window. In good news this aquarium will be heading to the new London Museum when that opens next year. Monday 12th: Rhino (Charlton) This one's in a horrible location on an industrial estate near the Thames Barrier, accessed by dodging tipper trucks on a mucky street whose pavements are blocked by parked cars and vans. The first time I saw it an employee of RMS Skips was halfway through covering it with plastic sheeting and I'm pleasantly surprised to see that's still here, as is the artwork behind it. It's also still drawing Banksy fans because just before I arrived a driver wound down his window for an admiring glance, and just after I left another couple blocked the street in their Mondeo to take a shot too. Best drive rather than walk. Tuesday 13th: Gorilla (London Zoo) Banksy's final artwork was daubed on a shutter at the entrance to London Zoo. They soon decided it couldn't remain in situ because queues need to flow freely at the height of the summer holidays, so a replacement shutter was sourced and the original whisked inside the zoo. The first replacement included a replica of Gorilla & Friends, plus a sign alongside confirming it wasn't the original, so visitors still got to experience the magic. But I see they've now suspended the pretence because I turned up before 10am yesterday when the shutters were down and can confirm all three are now blank white. A clickable menagerie Goat (Kew): chunk of wall removed Elephants (Chelsea): in situ, undefiled Monkeys (Brick Lane): jetblasted to hell Wolf (Peckham): stolen within hours Pelicans (Walthamstow): in situ, behind perspex Cat (Cricklewood): removed within hours Piranhas (Ludgate): shifted inside Guildhall Rhino (Charlton): in situ, behind perspex Gorilla (London Zoo): shifted inside the zoo

Fleeting HAMPSTEAD HEATH The Fleet starts at the highest point in inner London which is the top of Hampstead Heath. It starts here because the clay hills are capped with sandy soil - specifically the Bagshot Formation and the Claygate Member - thus groundwater emerges from springs at the boundary between permeable and less permeable strata. There are several sources, all of which join up to form a western branch and an eastern branch which remain separate for the best part of two miles before joining together in Kentish Town. The highest point is just below Whitestone Pond, where a raindrop landing to the south will end up in the Westbourne, to the north in the Brent and to the east in the Fleet. And here we find the first of a dozen ponds, each originally a reservoir dammed to provide drinking water for folk further down the valley. This is the Vale of Health, which sounds delightful but was originally a patch of boggy marshland called Hatchett's Bottom, rebranded when the reservoir was built in 1777. A throwback cluster of well-to-do villas nestles on the upper flank, the first of several places on this river walk that IYNBYRS (if you've never been you really should). Normally you'd see anglers dipping rods around the perimeter, but all fishing on Hampstead Heath was temporarily suspended last month due to a suspected outbreak of koi herpesvirus, a notifiable carp killer. The animal you're more likely see in the water is a happily-splashing canine, perhaps chasing a stick, this being the only Hampstead pond designated an official dog swimming area. And in the corner is a low brick-cased grille, currently dry above the water level but when overtopping occurs its sends the fledgling River Fleet on its tumbling way. Everyone assumes the Fleet is a lost river but if you find the right bit, which is this woodland at the top of Hampstead Heath, you can gambol alongside the stream in an almost-natural state. Just below the Vale of Health Pond the slopes are steep and impenetrable with vegetation, also somewhat boggy, but veer off the main path a little further down and rivulets plainly trace a dip in the earthy banks. Despite all the rain we've had there's no flow at present, merely occasional damp mud, but the Fleet was more plainly visible in August 2005 in a shade of dirty chalybeate brown. A few minutes into the woods a separate tributary from the Viaduct Pond joins the fray (that's the pond you can cross on a high viaduct, once used for transporting wagonloads of bricks, which was dammed in 1846) and the muddy channel becomes a tad wider. Since I was last here a 5m-high earth dam has been added amid the woodland, creating a 'catchpit' to fend off worst-case flooding scenarios, although you'd barely realise because the low hump's already been disguised by vegetation. Beyond this a wetland scrape briefly intrudes and then the Fleet makes its final appearance as a lazy linear stream because from here on it's all ponds and culverts. First up is the Mixed Bathing Pond, a deep facility for competent swimmers only, with a jaunty non-secretive vibe. It's currently 19°C in the water and £4.80 a dip. The next pair are Hampstead No.2 Pond and Hampstead No.1 Pond, thankfully neither named after unwelcome floating content, by which point we've reached the tip of the Heath near the shops at South End Green and it's time for the Fleet to vanish permanently underground. So let's switch tributaries. My favourite Fleet source can be found just below the Henry Moore sculpture on the upper lawn at Kenwood House. A notch of woodland dips down from the main terrace, within which a dry path eventually merges into a boggy brown squelch. This is one of the springs to be found at the sand/clay borderline on the Heath, and perhaps the easiest to access. From here a shallow furrow meanders across the picnic lawn - a brilliant feature once you've worked out what it is - before trickling into a mighty pond at the foot of the bank. It's this large because a separate tributary feeds in from a peaty sphagnum bog in the West Meadow. The adjacent Thousand Pound Pond was also constructed in the late 18th century and features a sham bridge, a low bright arc designed to look decorative and convincing from the front but from round the back you can see it's just a propped up slice of balustraded planking. From the boardwalk at the next crossing point I finally caught sight of a shallow watery channel through a screen of oak and holly, but generally anything that might count as a stream on this branch of the Fleet is securely fenced off. Instead what's coming up is a chain of six more ponds linked by culverted flow, each originally a reservoir and now used for a variety of different purposes. First comes the Stock Pond, one of the smallest and most natural-looking, which was hard to see twenty years ago but they've since removed 24 trees to make way for a strengthened dam. A survey for the City of London in 2013 confirmed that the Stock Pond was only capable of withstanding a 1-in 5-year flood, a consequence of its low capacity and relatively large catchment, whereas by contrast Vale of Health Pond could withstand a 1-in-1000. 50 years ago this month Hampstead Heath was hit by a 1-in-20000 year rainfall event, the infamous thunderstorm of 14th August 1975. 170mm of rain were recorded over a 24 hour period - that's almost seven inches - most of it between 5.30pm and 9pm. It's still the largest daily rainfall total ever recorded in London, indeed anywhere in southern England, and because it hit an urban area caused considerable damage to property. According to news reports the storm dropped hailstones "the size of marbles", flooded roads, crushed cars, closed several stations, delayed the Proms and also led to the death of a pensioner, although that was from overexertion while moving furniture in a basement flat in Brondesbury. The flooding was extremely localised with 'only' 4 inches at Highgate, 1 inch at Highbury and barely a splash in Hackney, and we only have accurate measurements because the Hampstead Scientific Society happened to have a weather station in precisely the right location. It seems highly unlikely that such extreme rainfall would ever hit the same spot again, but the City of London have spent millions raising and strengthening several dams on the upper Fleet just in case. 20 years ago, but now adds that "those who identify as women are welcome" and that a public consultation on future admission policy is being prepared. With three bathing ponds hereabouts - a Women's, a Men's and the aforementioned Mixed - let's hope the interfering gender-obsessives don't get their blinkered way. The Men's Bathing Pond is more open to view, especially from its newly raised dam, with betrunked swimmers visible on the jetties and bobbing heads looping in the admittedly distant waters. Inbetween come the Bird Sanctuary Pond and the Model Boating Pond, the latter one of the largest on the Heath if sadly devoid of young boys whipping toy yachts these days. The causeway to its central island is being removed this month to boost its credentials as a nature reserve. Concluding the sequence of reservoirs is Highgate No. 1 Pond. It's neither the prettiest nor the most accessible, but it does have the greatest capacity of any of the Ponds, which is good news for residents downstream facing potential inundation. A large overspill culvert lurks on its southern edge, considerably larger than the micro-drain at the Vale of Health, marking the last time the Highgate branch will be seen above ground. It heads off unseen towards Swain's Lane and Dartmouth Park, while half a mile to the west the Hampstead branch is disappearing underground too. What lies between the two is the Parliament Hill, the famous viewpoint, and those admiring central London from its summit generally fail to realise that the River Fleet is what cuts away the land on either side. Look towards St Paul's and you can see the cranes in Blackfriars where those waters finally reach the Thames, but it'll be a month before my account finally reaches journey's end. » The original August 2005 Fleet posts The original 60 Flickr photos Just the 12 photos so far this year history of the River Fleet (2009) map of the Heath/map of lost rivers