Our dear old dog has died. Which means that my wife and I are no longer members of those extensive sororities and fraternities, the dog-walkers of Dulwich Park. Those of you who rise early in all weathers and gather at Court Lane Gate to exercise your canine charges will no longer see my wife, clad in yellow wellingtons and red raincoat, or myself wearing broad-brimmed hat and green jacket, huffing and puffing after a bouncy Golden Retriever called Nelson.
Which is sad. Because in the months in which Nelson took over our lives and snuffled his way along the muddy paths of the park's perimeter, the new friendships we forged with humans and dogs alike really did make us feel that Dulwich is a community, not simply a neighbourhood or suburb, not just, as the politician's somewhat bitter adage put it, "a wealthy enclave in a deprived borough".
For Dulwich has solid institutions, churches, schools, shops, restaurants, a fine pub or two, a good library and an art gallery of international renown. There are sports clubs galore and the Dulwich Society is only one of a number of organisations to which citizens repair for cultural and social sustenance. On the more formal side, there is the Dulwich Community Council, a useful sounding board for opinion and complaint. The list of such bodies is almost endless and, if, through ignorance, I fail to mention your favourite association, guild or union, you must forgive me.
Having lived in this community for more than 21 years, my debt to the place now is as one who is spending his retirement here. To wander through the Village, especially on a quiet morning when the school run is over, to down a pint over a book purchased from Hazel and Julian, or to chat with John about the shocking price of coachwork repairs in the lugubrious interior of Park Motor Garage, are all pleasures which help to dispel some of the more sombre memories of life as a journalist in foreign parts.
So, when I ponder the books on the shelves in my comfortable Dulwich home, I sometimes find it hard to believe that I once observed the Killing Fields of Cambodia, lived through the violence of Lebanon and stood up to the stony-faced obstruction of communist officials in Czechoslovakia.
And yet Dulwich too has its dark side. From my short stint as chair of the Metropolitan Police Safer Neighbourhood Panel, I know a bit about crime in our area. It pains me to realise that we have enough villains and con-men around to make life difficult for old people and schoolchildren alike. It's not because of our proximity to Brixton and Peckham which some of us think of as "no-go" areas. That in itself is a nonsense and we must accept that even pleasant and prim Dulwich has to live in the real world, and that vandalism and anti-social behaviour in our bailiwick are sometimes home grown.
For all its leafy charms, Dulwich is London. And as Henry James put it, if in a slightly different context, "all human life is there". And there are plenty of dogs as well!
