A Nice Walk: Hendon to Mill Hill (3 miles) Sometimes you just want to go for a nice walk, nothing too taxing, bit of heritage, proper healthy, municipal-focused, hilltop views, football-related, flying balls, disused railway bridge, a bit of a stroll, won't take long. So here's a Healthy Heritage Walk from Barnet borough council, nowhere near enough to make a day of it but a nice walk all the same. Healthy Heritage Walks, conceived as a joint project with the Ramblers and the Institute of Tourist Guiding. Each features a map, a multi-page script with full directions, a Spotify playlist featuring the aforementioned script and a Google map of the appointed route, which is a pretty good going for a council resource. I picked a part of Barnet I was relatively unfamiliar with because it's always good to explore. And what I discovered was that the first kilometre was great, the second, third and fourth a bit of a slog, and the fifth didn't go as planned. The Hendon to Mill Hill walk starts at Hendon Town Hall, which is both an obvious and a self-centred location for a borough-produced walk. The building's typically Edwardian, having been built in the era when local government was proudly emerging, and is also flying the Progress Pride flag because Barnet finally has a Labour council and it's June. The walk notes remind us that Margaret Thatcher was at the count here when she became Prime Minister in 1979, also that the adjacent fire station is from 1914 and the library from 1929. The peculiar statue outside resembling a giant drill bit is called Family Man, was unveiled by Mrs T in 1981 and celebrates the twinning of Barnet with the municipality of Ramat Gan in Israel. The other imposing municipal edifice is Hendon Technical Institute, later a founding part of Middlesex University, now the main campus of Middlesex University so potentially abuzz with students. If pre-walk reassurance is what you need, Hendon Library has toilets and the Costcutter across the road has water and snacks. The Burroughs and just up the lane was the village hub of Church End. That'll be why there's still a bank of 300-year-old almshouses along here, still providing accommodation for 16 needy persons over 50 years age, with one of those lovely old plaques above the door whose verbose wording kicks off with the phraſe "Theſe Alms Houſes were erected Purſuant to the laſt will of Robert Daniel". Turn the corner, very much avoiding the Barnet Wellbeing Centre, and lo the whitewashed walls of a medieval church. This is St Mary's whose tower is topped by a dazzling lofty weathercock, or more precisely weatherlamb. The walknotes recommend going inside if possible to see the 12th century font and the grave of Sir Stamford Raffles, but I'd turned up as Sung Eucharist was turfing out so it didn't seem appropriate. Instead I headed round the back as directed to see the grave of Herbert Chapman, Arsenal's pioneeringly excellent manager in the 1920s and 1930s, whose career was sadly cut short when he died of pneumonia aged 55. The pub outside is The Greyhound but was built as Church House, a place for parish meetings. A blue plaque confirms they've been held on this site since 1351 while a blackboard confirms they now sell Double Salami pizza. Nextdoor is the oldest dwelling in Hendon, a 17th century farmhouse, which from 1955 to 2011 housed Church Farmhouse Museum. Alas the council flogged it off at the first sign of austerity, much to the fury of many, so to see it still has a Barnet Property Services To Let sign out front suggests that wasn't a great decision. And beyond that is a footpath entrance to Sunny Hill Park, formerly Church Farmhouse's farm, and it was here my antennae really picked up because I'd never been before. It's big too, a 55 acre sloping tongue with uncut meadow, ridged peak and lower cafe. Pause by the tree with a bench and soak in the view, suggested the walk, and hell yes. "From here it is possible to see across the valley to Harrow and Stanmore" says the rubric, and they are indeed the undulating woody peaks of Middlesex on the horizon. It then waxes lyrical for five paragraphs about the foreground because this used to include Hendon Aerodrome, a place of considerable aerial importance, but alas all this is now dominated by the boxy upthrust of Colindale. It's grown so much since this script was written in 2019 that you can no longer see 'the distinctive yellow roof' of Hendon Police College, not unless you shift to a completely different viewpoint, only an intrusion of semi-affordable brick vernacular. You may be unnerved to discover that we're not yet even quarter of the way through the walk, after all my lengthy description thus far, but the good news is that the remainder's far less interesting so I can be briefer. Kilometre 2: The walk now retreats all the way back to the park entrance, past the back of the churchyard and round the back of the Barnet Wellbeing Centre. It then follows a back alley rather than pass the multitude of takeaways on Church Lane before emerging partway up Parson Street. Kilometre 3: Near the bottom of the hill you can't quite see Hendon Hall Court, a neoclassical mansion whose greatest claim to fame is that it was the hotel where the England football team stayed the night before the 1966 World Cup Final. Since the walknotes were written it's become a luxury care home, complete with '66 Bar and Lounge', so is even harder to see. The Brutalist block of flats in front with its jaggedy concrete profile is Hendon Hall Court, another 1966 triumph. Crossing the busy A1 is no fun, as if a pedestrian crossing were an afterthought, then turn left at North Hendon Synagogue into full-on suburban avenues. Kilometre 4: Ooh, an unexpected bridleway. This is Ashley Lane, an ancient roadway once used by a fleeing Cardinal Wolsey, now preserved as a half mile strip of ancient woodland across the middle of a golf course. The gentle climb is shady and pleasant, if you don't mind repeated passive aggressive signs warning that unauthorised access onto the course by pedestrians, bikes and drones is strictly prohibited. At the far end is the back entrance to Hendon Cemetery, a multi-faith site since 1899 and the burial place of Lynsey de Paul, also absolutely no dogs permitted. Sanders Lane should lead to an old arched bridge over a disused railway, just beyond Mill Hill East, except the path has been fully blocked off with a sign saying 'Footway closed'. This is bloody annoying because there's no other easy way round, hence the local petition which in effect says for God's sake please reopen Sanders Lane. The cause is a structural defect discovered in March 2023 which created "an immediate safety risk", and Barnet council have only recently confirmed that their preferred solution is to entirely demolish the 145 year-old bridge and instead add a footpath at cutting level, with work starting next month. I was this forced to walk up the road and then return along the actual disused railway, which to be fair was vastly more atmospheric, plus I got to see the doomed bridge side-on just before it vanishes forever. Inglis Barracks, the enormous camp where every WW1 soldier who signed up for the Middlesex Regiment did their training. All that remains today is the officers mess, a long brick building at the brow of the hill, every other space having been swallowed up by swirling townhouses and other semi-upmarket housing. With crushing inevitability the mess has been subdivided into further flats and become Officers Mess House, now fronted by a private garden and numerous signs warning anyone with a vehicle of a potential £100 parking fine. It's no longer the climactic end to the walk that the originators planned, or indeed saw six years ago, and I think what I'm saying is maybe just walk the first three quarters of a mile. Or go do the Totteridge walk instead.

One Stop Beyond: Thames Ditton In this series I'm taking the train one stop beyond the Greater London boundary, getting off and seeing what's there. Today that means Thames Ditton, one stop beyond Surbiton on the Hampton Court line. Obviously it's beside the Thames, in this case on the south bank (in Surrey) opposite the broad sweep of Hampton Court Park (which is in London). Thames Ditton is historic, well-off and quaint, but also post-industrial, over-private and lacking in river. If you live here, well done. Long Ditton to the east, but the two have inexorably coalesced over the years. Thames Ditton got the station which is why you're more likely to have heard of it. That's where I arrived yesterday morning to complete my challenge of visiting every station in London and its outer zones, this being zone 6 which keeps local commuters' fares down. A white-haired lady from Thames Ditton In Bloom was watering the flowerboxes and flowerwheelbarrows on the up platform, whipping open her portable stepladder as necessary, and also being thanked by passing passengers for all the work she was doing. She has horticultural competition from Thames Ditton Men In Sheds who've knocked up three wooden habitats called Bug Halt, Bug Central and Bug Junction in an elevated garden above the ramp opposite. Even before nipping into the cosy waiting room with its small mornings-only cafe and stack of local leaflets, I could tell this was a community that looks after itself with pride. The heart of Thames Ditton is its snaking high street, a cottage-lined thoroughfare that wiggles down to where the ferry used to be. A lot of weatherboarded frontage is still evident, also a couple of old pubs of which Ye Olde Swan is the real deal with a waterfront terrace and a backstory as the site of a Tudor hunting lodge, what with Henry VIII's palace being just across the water. The Red Lion, by contrast, is merely a fine free house with an obsession for hanging baskets. For groceries there's a smart Budgens, the bank has inevitably become an estate agent and for plump pastries it's got to be the Nice Buns Cafe. The top row of the newspaper rack goes 'Telegraph Mail Times Mirror', for what its worth. As for the very long building with the cupola that's a Georgian mansion built for riverside status, later sold for £5000 to an Anglican hospice fleeing from Deptford. For over a century it's been known as the Home of Compassion, even after being sold off as a luxury care home, until last year the owners decided to tone down the mortality angle and glibly rebranded it Thames View instead. Ferry Works, a former boat-building yard that diversified into marine engines in the 1880s. You can track the site's subsequent history through three plaques and a To Let sign... manufactured the revolutionary central valve steam engine, moved to Rugby, the amazing Auto-Carrier car made here, Character Riverside Offices To Let. AC Cars arrived in 1911 to build open 2-seaters, coupés and chuggy saloons, also the first British car ever to win the Monte-Carlo rally. The company spent 75 years in Thames Ditton with its motor works just off the high street, in its later years churning out the pale blue three-wheeled invalid cars that used to crawl the nation's streets. All of that's since become flats, as has the site of the foundry that forged the Quadriga that bestrides Hyde Park Corner - also suitably blue-plaqued. The one scrap of riverside still accessible is a narrow slipway that now doubles up as Ye Old Swan's car park. You can tell access is limited because one workman had chosen to sit amidst the hatchbacks to eat his lunch. This is also the landing point for the footbridge that joins Thames Ditton Island to the mainland, and no you will not be visiting because it's private and the gate has a black pad. The island is 300m long and consists of a single central track faced by 48 detached properties, each of which started out as a weekend bungalow and is now a desirable hideaway with its own individual mooring. Despite being much closer to the south side of the Thames the island had always been part of Middlesex, and only in 1970 did residents manage to be officially relocated to Surrey. Alongside are two much smaller eyots, Boyle Farm Island and Swan Island, whose sum total of two properties get their mail delivered to a red lockup box at the top of the slipway. The Church of St Nicholas has been here since the 12th century, the oldest part of its structure being its broad squat flinty tower. It also contains what may be the oldest font in Surrey, a sturdy stone bowl dating back to 1120 with a carving of the Lamb of God on one side. Above the chancel the oak panels are an even rarer survivor, these depictions of the Day of Judgement from 1520 having somehow escaped destruction during the Reformation. Today the church is very welcoming of visitors so the door will likely be unlocked, or maybe I just got lucky while the Bereavement Cafe was meeting in the church hall. A particularly attractive exterior feature is the path that wends quarter of a mile from here down to the station, known as Church Walk. It's too narrow for vehicles so of the 60 houses only two have parking spaces, which must be fun on removals day, but the Victorian semis and cutesy cottages are so desirable that residents are all too happy to suffer the inconvenience. Vera Fletcher Hall where the local amdrams occasionally put on shows, wove through occasional leftover shards of woodland and eventually found my progress halted by a 90 acre sports ground. This is Imber Court, purchased by the Metropolitan Police Service in 1919 with recreation in mind. Not only is it the home of Metropolitan Police FC, a team who've reached the first round of the FA Cup five times, but also the training centre for the Met's mounted police. Looking across a sea of tennis courts I could see floodlights and the Des Flanders Stand in the far distance... and I presume someone was also watching me. headquarters of the Milk Marketing Board, they of "drinka pinta milka day", until watered down by William Waldegrave in 1994. It's now a housing estate and the MMB's sole local legacy appears to be that they helped pay for Thames Ditton Cricket Club's snazzy pavilion. I should also mention the Thames Ditton Miniature Railway, a teeny straddled treat, but their next open day isn't until 6th July. tip the river was again fenced off and the slipway hidden within a modern boatyard. Instead the local populace are left to make do with City Wharf Open Space, a scrap of waterfront mostly shielded by trees with a brief opening where the full sweep of the main river is finally revealed. The main problem with living round here, it turns out, is rather too much Ditton and nowhere near enough Thames.

After traipsing halfway across London, dodging travel works and closed Overground lines and carriages with malfunctioning air conditioning and all the other things that make moving around this city on a weekend in the summer such an endless joy, it's equally annoying to find that your destination is good or bad. If it's good, you will bemoan the fact that somewhere worth visiting is so bloody difficult to get to, and seethe with jealousy of those lucky locals who have such a good place on their doorstep. And if it's bad, you wish you'd spent your Saturday morning and sanity going somewhere else. Uncle Hon's isn't awful. It's not great, but it's not awful. The brisket (sorry, ox cheeks) was over-tender to the point of mush (it would definitely not pass the competition BBQ "pull-test" and a bit too sweet. Pulled lamb had a decent flavour but a rather uniform texture - the joys of the "pulled" element of a BBQ tray lie almost entirely in finding little crispy crunchy bits of fat and charred flesh; this was just a bit boring. And some cubes of pork belly were decent enough in that Cantonese roast style but was yet more sweet, syrupy, mushy meat next to two other piles of sweet, syrupy, mushy meat and the whole thing was just a bit sickly. Iberico ribs were a bit better in terms of texture - they did at least have a bit of a bite and didn't just slop off the bone as is depressingly often the case - but I feel like Iberico has become a bit of a meaningless foodie buzzword like Wagyu, ie. nowhere near the guarantee of quality it once was (if indeed it ever was). These were definitely the best things we ate though, and were pretty easily polished off. Oh I should say pickles and slaw were fine, if fairly unmemorable, and a single piece of crackling weirdly lodged vertically into a mound of rice like the sword in the stone had a pleasant enough greaseless texture but was pretty under seasoned. Look, I can see what they're trying to do at Uncle Hon's - fusion American/Chinese BBQ food, bringing a bit of a new twist to what is now fairly ubiquitous London drinking-den fare, and with a bit more thought and skill it could have been, well, if not completely worth that awful journey but at least some compensation for your efforts. But after having paid £50pp for what is an only fairly mediocre tray of food plus 3 small extra pork ribs, we were left feeling fairly unhappy, not very satisfied and more than a little ripped off. 5/10