3000 miles

I had been thinking about maps for some weeks - indeed it transpired to be one week too many. I had though been asking myself the basic question, of what exactly does a map do?

Maps help you to not get lost. I can remember being lost on many occasions, sometimes without a map. Which didn’t help matters. But I also remember being really lost, even when I had one. Being lost can be a lot of fun, even quite exciting. But it can also cause quarrelling when on trips abroad, particularly if your travelling companion is irritable, or suffering from ennui.

Having a map is one thing but being able to read one is quite another. They can be rather confusing. Many years ago, aged 15, I managed to navigate my duke of Edinburgh expedition group, through the driving icy rain, down the slopes of Slieve Donard, thanks to my excellent orienteering skills, a plastic compass and guessing that a triangle was the symbol for a prominent, memorable rock. I was duly praised that evening by our troop leader.

I also remember getting very lost when I first moved to London in the mid 90’s. Back then, there was no such thing as a Google Map. My new mobile phone from Nokia was not a thing one would ever have thought could also help navigate a city. Instead, I relied on a small print, pocket-sized, spiral-bound copy of the A-Z of London. It was the go-to Guide for the city I now called my home.

Phyllis Pearsall, MBE was responsible for bringing this excellent resource into being. An artist and author she was determined to walk the 3000 or so miles of some 23000 streets, due to the unreliability of the old and out-dated map she had been using. Today, we call this obsessive compulsion, but back then, quaint if a little eccentric.

It was to her good fortune that her father happened to have a personal cartographer, who's work she used adapted and updated. Taking a year to complete, the first 10000 copies were cruelly disregarded by Selfridges and Hatchards of Piccadilly but W. H Smith saw merit in her endeavours and ordered 1250 copies followed by Woolworths.

The original versions somehow managed to include house numbers; the mind boggles at how Phyllis managed to do this as reading the later edition with no numbers was at times baffling and capable of inducing a migraine. But more fascinating and perhaps with a nod to her artistry, A-roads were coloured orange, whereas B roads were yellow. This went on to become part of the London cabbie’s occupational vernacular, who referred to them as oranges and lemons.

The Pearsall A-Z was subsequently rolled out across the country, bringing the same multi- coloured detail to cities like Manchester and even some that weren’t really worth visiting. Lovely Phyllis, later left her south London home and retired to Shoreham, probably because she got tired of people asking her for directions.