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Welcome to the “Georgia Wasp…”

This blog is modeled on the Carolina Israelite. That was an old-time newspaper – more like a personal newsletter – written and published by Harry Golden. Back in the 1950s, people called Harry a “voice of sanity amid the braying of jackals.” (For his work on the Israelite.)

That’s now my goal as well. To be a “voice of sanity amid the braying of jackals.”

For more on the blog-name connection, see the notes below.

In the meantime:

September 19, 2025 – The last post talked about my last day in London, on August 30. This post will talk about my first day in London, last August 6. (And there were similarities.) Future posts will cover the days I spent exploring the town, then meeting up with my hiking partner, and from there taking a train to Winchester to begin the 134-mile hike on the Canterbury Trail.

And by the way, that’s a well-known screenwriting technique, “starting with the ending and mapping out your screenplay in reverse… This approach ensures your script is tightly focused, structurally sound, and steers clear of plot holes or unresolved threads.”

So: My flight got to Heathrow at 6:30 the morning of August 6. From there I took the Elizabeth Line to Paddington Station. (As it turned out, just a four-minute walk from the Days Inn Hyde Park where I spent my last night in London.) From Paddington I had a choice, just like on that last day in London. Check-in wasn’t until 2:00, which meant seven hours to kill before I could rest my weary jet-lagged head. So, “Do I take the Tube, ride a bus or just hike down?“

As it turned out, before leaving home I couldn’t find a direct bus or Tube route down to Wandsworth Road and the room I’d booked at Chelsea Guest House. (For reasons that should be obvious in a bit.) The guest house was a bit over four miles southeast, across the Thames and on the other side of the Battersea Power Station. (Also, I’d booked the room for two nights at “Chelsea” instead of the three nights I needed, but I’ll cover that later.)

I figured, “Four miles isn’t much, and I’ve certainly got enough time.” So off I went, carrying that 16-pound pack holding all my worldly goods for the remaining three-plus weeks of August.

I headed down The Serpentine, the same park I’d hiked through back on May 8, but on the east side. And found out that east side was blocked with heavy bush-and-brush, so you couldn’t see the lake. So I crossed the Serpentine Bridge to the other side and stopped for coffee and a bite at the Serpentine Lido Cafe, roughly a mile south of Paddington. (And I had time.) That left 3.3 miles, but things continued well as I crossed the Chelsea Bridge over the Thames.

If you check Google Maps you’ll see that after I crossed the Chelsea Bridge I should have turned left on Prince of Wales Road, then right on Stewart’s Road. But remember too that I depend on local pubs for wifi, and there weren’t any around. Also that my memory of Google Maps sometimes fails, like that time in Lyon (France, 2024), when the train from Paris got to Lyon-Part-Dieu first, instead of “Part Une?” In other words I seem to have acquired John Steinbeck’s ability to get lost but not mind too much, knowing that things will eventually work out. “I was born lost and take no pleasure in being found.” (Also, you don’t take a trip, a trip takes you.)

Back to Google Maps on the hike down to and through the area around Battersea Power Station. You can also see there’s a slew of railroad tracks in the area, going off in all directions. And since the powers that be don’t like people walking across those tracks – and getting killed – that meant lots of dead-ends. (Several of which I found and had to back-track from.)

As I found out later it shouldn’t have been that hard, but I’d already hiked three miles from Paddington, plus I was tired from getting no sleep on the red-eye flight over, so I despaired of ever making my way through that labyrinth-maze of going-all-directions-and-blocking-my-way railroad tracks. But in the fullness of time I stumbled on past the Queenstown Road train station and found my way to Silverthorne Road. From there I headed down to Wandsworth Road, where I checked street numbers, then headed east. And still got there way before check-in.

I tried the front door but it didn’t give, and it was well before 2:00. Fortunately there was a McDonald’s right next door. I went there and got some cheap lunch, but unfortunately they didn’t have Wifi. Still, I eventually got in, got checked in, and went through a labyrinth of closed doors inside the Chelsea to get to my room on the second floor. (What they call the first floor in England.) It was nice enough, roomy and airy, however...

However, while the room had a bathroom with shower here was no toilet in the bathroom. There was a shared toilet-and-sink room, but to get to it you had to go through another two sets of doors. It was inconvenient but hardly earth-shattering, plus I was tired and jet-lagged. So I took a nap and later that afternoon checked out the area.

I hiked east on Wandsworth and found the Nine Elms tube station, for possible future reference. Also on the way I passed the Wandsworth Road Overground Station, something I’d never seen or heard anything about. (It seems London Tube-trains run underground like a subway, while Overground tracks run above-ground, like a monorail.) I was so intrigued by the idea that I wrote this in my journal the next day, August 7: “Took the Overhead Line [sic] from Wandsworth to Wapping Station. Then this pub, highly recommended, with views of the Thames. Lunch and a pint, then who knows. A ‘catch as catch can’ afternoon.” But that’s a story for next time, which will include that highly-recommended visit to the Prospect of Whitby pub across the Thames.

Back to late afternoon August 6. Another thing I found on Wandsworth Road, The Nott:

Descending the few steps into this unpretentious pub tucked opposite Nine Elms Underground, one might feel transported to a quintessential British establishment with its worn wooden floors and beer-stained, timeworn charm … enhanced by a community atmosphere of laid-back locals nursing pints alongside a gregarious Irish gentleman who suavely orchestrates the steady hum of hospitality from behind the bar.

Over the next few days I returned to The Nott often enough to develop a nodding acquaintance with several “laid-back locals nursing pints.” That gave me a warm feeling of home…

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The upper image is courtesy of London Battersea Power Station – Image Results.

Re: Screenwriting technique. See Working Backwards in Screenwriting: What It Means and How.

“That time in Lyon?” See More “gang aft aglay” – and luxury in Lyon! And the correct name of “Lyon Part Une” is Lyon-Perrache, the one I expected to reach first.

On Steinbeck, see Travels with Charley Quotes by John Steinbeck – Goodreads. Also, re: Steinbeck on trips. The actual quote is “people don’t take trips. Trips take people.” John Steinbeck – Travel Quote of the Week – Authentic Traveling. As for using the quote repeatedly, you could cut and past “steinbeck trip takes you” in the search engine above right.

The link Monorail Society – What is a Monorail notes that people “often make the assumption that any elevated rail or people-mover is a monorail. This leads to issues attributable to other types of transit systems being attributed to monorails.” Thus the more precise definition: “A single rail serving as a track for passenger or freight vehicles. In most cases rail is elevated, but monorails can also run at grade, below grade or in subway tunnels.”

The lower image is courtesy of The Nott, London, Stockwell – clubs review. (Where the quote came from.) See also The Nott | Trip.com Greater London. And from The Nott – Opening Times, Contacts – Pub in London: “The Nott is a community hub located on busy Wandsworth Road in SW8, just a few minutes’ walk from the Nine Elms tube station… In addition to its main bar area, there is a raised section with pool tables and dart boards for added entertainment value.” The exterior image at left – showing its “timeworn charm” – is courtesy of The Nott Wandsworth Road London Image – Image Results.

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Re:  The Israelite.  Harry Golden grew up in the Jewish ghetto of New York City, but eventually moved to Charlotte, North Carolina.  Thus the “Carolina Israelite.”  I on the other hand am a “classic 73-year-old “WASP” – White Anglo-Saxon Protestant – and live in north Georgia.  Thus the “Georgia Wasp.”    

Anyway, in North Carolina Harry wrote and published the “israelite” from the 1940s through the 1960s.  He was a “cigar-smoking, bourbon-loving raconteur.”  (He told good stories.) That also means if he was around today, the “Israelite would be done as a blog.”  But what made Harry special was his positive outlook on life.  As he got older but didn’t turn sour, like many do today.  He still got a kick out of life.  For more on the blog-name connection, see “Wasp” and/or The blog.

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