SE5 - The Camberwell Beauty, Camberwell

Hello people,

Today I'm in Camberwell SE5, visiting my Granddad while he's in King's Hospital, recovering from a nasty fall. As requested I've brought with me a copy of the Evening Standard, a copy of the Irish Times, and a litre and a half bottle of Bells Whiskey, which he assures me he needs for medicinal purposes as the actual medicine they give him doesn't get him drunk quick enough.

I probably shouldn't be encouraging this bad behaviour, but to be honest I feel a little responsible for him being in hospital, as his fall happened while he was rock climbing - a sport he took up after reading my post on the climbing centre at the Old Biscuit Factory in Bermondsey. 

As I was a little early for visiting hours, I thought I'd take a stroll around Ruskin Park while I was here - to look at the flowers and feed the ducks. Being a responsible person I never feed ducks bread, as research has found it's bad for them, so I let the ducks watch me eat the bread instead. I will sometimes devour an entire loaf of Kingsmill Granary while they all gather round me and watch. They obviously get a lot out of it, as do I.

Ruskin Park is a lovely little spot. Records show that it spans an area of 15 hectares, sadly there's no one left in the world who knows how big a hectare is, so the park's size is mystery. Once there, I headed straight to the wildlife pond, sat down on a bench, took a bite from my tuna and mayonnaise sandwich, and started to read the 'Friends of Ruskin Park' leaflet I'd brought with me. The section on the wild life pond read;

'Among the wildlife in the pond are toads, squirrels, and native birds such as Tits, Blue Tits, and Great Tits.'

I put the leaflet down and decided to head over to see Granddad soon. If Rose called I'd find it pretty hard to explain why I was sitting on my own in a park in Camberwell keeping my eye out for any great tits that might go past.

And that's when it happened. It was the strangest thing, a butterfly fluttered up to me, hovered for a moment, and then came to rest on my shoulder. I couldn't believe it, and my surprise wasn't going to end there. Because on inspection, I realised that this butterfly was none other than the famous Camberwell Beauty.

The Camberwell Beauty can be recognised by its beautiful dark wings with light borders. It was first discovered close by, in Cold Harbour Lane in 1748 - hence the name. Perhaps because of it's pretty wings, and possibly because no other animal has ever been discovered in Camberwell*, the Camberwell Beauty has become the symbol for this part of SE London, with roads, a chemist and a shopping centre named in its honour.

Like so many of the SE London's population the CB is actually an immigrant- living in Europe and Scandinavia and only very rarely making the trip to the UK. Many local people have tried breeding them, but for whatever reason, they never seem to hang around for long. So if you see one like I did, it's a real treat.

The Wild Life Pond

I took a look around the park, and saw no one, which is strange in such a built up area. For a moment it was just me and the Camberwell Beauty resting on my shoulder. It was magical in a way. We stared at each other for a while, neither of us really knowing what to say. Then for no reason I can think of, my eyes moved up, and I saw a figure - a tall man I think - wearing a long dark coat, and a black hat walking across the park.

“I think I know that man?” I said to the butterfly.

He moved steadily, and slowly, with a slight pause in between each step, like a bride walking up the isle, towards a man she stopped loving many years ago. As he got closer I could see that he was holding a large net which draped from his fingers.

"He must be a butterfly collector," I said to the butterfly. "You'd best be careful or you'll end up hanging on his wall inside a picture frame."

The butterfly shuffled it's wings slightly, but decided it would stand it's ground instead. I stood watching him for a while, and then my heart skipped a beat, my breath quickened and I said to the butterfly, “My God, that’s the man I met in Lesnes Abbey last year!”

The butterfly stared at me blankly.

The Flower Garden

“I was investigating the 2014 arson attack on the Cutty Sark. He told me my life was in danger and that I should meet him in East Street market if I wanted answers, but he never showed. Instead he sent a courier to tell me to forget about the investigation. I tried to get more information out of her, but she turned out to be a real psychopath. She nearly broke my spine with a Judo throw when I tried to ask her to talk to me! I think we should follow him, and find out what he’s up to. Are you with me?”

The butterfly flapped his wings, flew off of my shoulder and into the flower garden for a bite to eat around the roses.


“Suit yourself!” I shouted, and with that. I gave chase.

*In the summer of 1994 a man called Steve 'Spliffy' Stevens claimed to have discovered a leprechaun in Camberwell high street while walking home from his friend's house at 4am. The leprechaun was later found to be a garden gnome someone had left outside the charity shop.