There’s a parody sketch by that vintage English comic, Peter Sellers, which refers to Balham as ‘the Gateway to the South.’ In grand terms the announcer presents the ancient crafts of this not especially distinguished London suburb, one of which is ‘to carve the little holes in the top of toothbrushes’.

If there is doubt cast on Balham’s claim to fame as a ‘gateway’ then there is no such uncertainty regarding Gravesend, the river-side town to the south-east of London. For much of its history it has been the gateway to London itself and, after a period of decline when the port moved down stream, Gravesend has now become a key location for the Thames Gateway project which aims at developing the economy of the Thames estuary region.

A part of this regeneration has been to restore Gravesend’s historic centre which, as I remember, had become woefully rundown.

The old town’s high street has a number of characteristic clapper-board buildings with specialist shops and restaurants.

The street ends with the restored pier from which one embarks on a passenger ferry to Tilbury across the Thames.

When I took the ferry last month it was a dour and very windy day and the Thames became a little choppy.

We have disembarked before at Tilbury, on the ‘Waverley’, the last ocean-going paddle steamer in the world.

This memorable journey produced the following poem:

WAVERLEY

The pistons pursue their unceasing act

of love and the steamer’s bold prow furrows

through grey-green waters while an east wind blows;

stork-like forts loom ahead: the deck is packed.

Side-paddles ruffle estuary water

in flecks and glints; flat Essex horizon

combines with sea in leaden unison.

You are the River’s beautiful daughter

and come from a truer age and sea-lochs

bordered by lush hills and craggy ridges.

The City is now your servant: bridges

open to you above the shuttered docks.

All hail with blasts and cheers in one consent

for through you we re-live childhood content.

This time I looked up at a gigantic cruise liner moored there. No sign of any passengers, however. I wonder where they had all gone.

Along the riverside, but hidden by an embankment wall, was Tilbury fort the location for Queen Elizabeth I’s stirring speech against the Spanish Armada:

“I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too, and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm”.

I returned to Gravesend and walked to the railway station passing the elegant eighteenth century church of Saint George.

It contains the burial place of iconic native American princess Pocahontas of the Powhatan people who saved the life of John Smith the founder of the colony of Virginia.

Pocahontas later married John Rolfe and sailed to the UK where she was presented to the Royal Court with much pomp and interest.

On her return to her native land Pocahontas became ill at Gravesend and sadly died there at the age of just twenty one

The statue of the princess is a cast copy of the original in Jamestown, Virginia by William Partridge and was presented to Gravesend as a token of anglo-american friendship in 1957.

Thinking about all those statues which have recently raised disputes about whether they should still be standing I thought that Pocahontas will be there in front of Saint George’s church for as long as freedom and equality are prized. She was a person who valued all humans whether they be red, white or black. However, I wonder what Pocahontas would have thought of her nation today.