Red House, Bexleyheath

A visit to the Post Office first off, to send back a book and warm weather clothes which we probably won't be needing as we head North. It was a very reassuring experience - this post office exuded an air of calm competence, a feeling of efficient utterly reliable systems that would carry our parcels unerringly to their destinations.

John picked us up at 10, and the traffic was good so we got to Bexleyheath and the Red House well before their opening time.

I think we managed to schmooze the lady at reception, telling her we'd come from Australia to see the house, as she sent the three of us off on the 11.00 tour, leaving a large group who had just appeared to. cool their heels till the next tour at 11.30.

The house itself, built for William Morris, textile designer, poet, novelist, translator and social designer, and founder of the Arts and Crafts Movement, was claimed by the National Trust to be"one of the most influential buildings in the history of domestic architecture and garden design." Not too sure about that, but it certainly is a distinctive creation.

The house was built in 1859, in a style drawing upon Morris's thinking about the use of natural materials and on his interest in medieval and gothic architecture.

The location at the time was beyond what Morris described as the "creeping sore" of London. The creeping sore has well and truly reached Bexleyheath, and the house is surrounded by suburbia. Morris become a prototype commuter, walking three miles each day to catch a train to Bloomsbury in London, making for a three to four hour a day commute. I can relate to how hard that must have been. After six years, a combination of financial pressures and the wear and tear of living in what was then a fairly remote location led to Morris and his family leaving the Red House.

A beautiful place and a lovely garden, with lots of beautiful decorative touches remaining despite bits being carted off to other museums and galleries,  but it has a sort of melancholy air - a wonderful ambitious shot at creating an ideal beautiful place that would become the heart of a new movement, but one that didn't quite come off. You certainly get a sense of the intense creative energy of the man.

After lunch in the cafe, which was the original kitchen, we drove to John's house which is a mini gallery in its own right, and spent a pleasant few hours, before he dropped us right outside a shop in Greenwich which Anne wanted to visit. It was great to have a local to give us something of a Londoner's perspective on things - it made our visit here much richer than it would otherwise have been.

So, now we are psyching ourselves up to leave tomorrow. We will be sorry to leave Greenwich.