The Green in the Park
Waterlow Park is one of North London's most treasured green spaces — a twenty-six-acre gift to the public from Sir Sydney Waterlow, the Victorian philanthropist and Lord Mayor of London who donated his Highgate estate to the London County Council in 1889 as "a garden for the gardenless." The park, which occupies a steeply sloping site on the southern edge of Highgate village, contains formal gardens, wooded walks, ornamental ponds, a cafe, and — tucked into a sheltered corner where the land levels out before falling away again towards Swain's Lane — a bowling green that has been in continuous use for well over a century. The green is a rectangle of immaculate turf, maintained to a standard that would satisfy the most demanding groundsman, enclosed by low hedges and benches, and surrounded by the mature trees that give Waterlow Park its particular quality of enclosed tranquillity.
The setting is extraordinary. From the green, bowlers can look up through the trees to the spire of St Michael's Church on the hilltop, or across the park to the roofline of Lauderdale House, the sixteenth-century mansion that has served variously as a royal residence, a convalescent home, and an arts and education centre. On a summer evening, with the light filtering through the canopy of oaks and beeches, the sounds of the city muffled by distance and foliage, the bowling green feels like a place out of time — a fragment of an older England that has somehow survived in the heart of the metropolis. The contrast between the stillness of the green and the bustle of Archway Road, just a few hundred metres to the east, is one of those London juxtapositions that never cease to surprise and delight.
The green itself is a work of horticultural art. The turf is a blend of fine fescue and bent grasses, maintained through a year-round programme of mowing, aeration, feeding, and rolling that begins in early spring and continues until the autumn rains bring the season to a close. The surface must be as flat and uniform as possible — the slightest hollow or ridge will deflect a bowl from its intended path — and achieving this standard on a natural turf surface, subject to the vagaries of the English climate, requires both skill and dedication. The club's greenkeeper, whether a paid professional or a member volunteer, is one of its most important figures, responsible for the playing surface on which the entire sport depends.
A History of the Club
The origins of bowling in Waterlow Park are somewhat obscured by the passage of time, but the green appears to have been established not long after the park was opened to the public in 1891. The Victorian era was the golden age of lawn bowls in England, with clubs springing up in parks and recreation grounds across the country as the sport's combination of gentle exercise, competitive challenge, and social conviviality proved irresistible to the newly leisured middle classes. Highgate, with its prosperous population and its tradition of communal recreation, was a natural home for the game, and the green in Waterlow Park provided an ideal venue — flat, sheltered, and conveniently located within walking distance of the village centre.
The club's early membership was drawn largely from the professional and commercial classes of Highgate and the surrounding neighbourhoods — solicitors, doctors, retired military officers, and the proprietors of local businesses. These were men (for the club was exclusively male in its early decades) with the leisure to play in the afternoons and the means to pay the modest subscription that covered the costs of maintaining the green and the small pavilion that served as the club's headquarters. The social atmosphere was convivial but not exclusive, and the club prided itself on welcoming new members who demonstrated the twin virtues of enthusiasm for the game and respect for its traditions.
The two World Wars disrupted the club's activities, as they disrupted everything else, but in each case the club reconstituted itself after the conflict and resumed play on the green that had been maintained in its absence by a skeleton crew of members too old or too infirm for military service. The post-war periods were times of particular vitality for the club, as returning servicemen sought the companionship and the gentle rhythms of a sport that represented everything they had been fighting to preserve. The 1950s and 1960s were perhaps the club's golden era, with a full membership, a busy fixture list, and a level of competitive success that brought trophies and recognition from the county bowling associations.
The Ancient Sport of Bowls
Lawn bowls is one of the oldest sports still played in Britain, with a history that stretches back to at least the thirteenth century. The basic principle is disarmingly simple: players take turns to roll biased balls (bowls or woods) towards a smaller target ball (the jack), and the player or team whose bowl finishes closest to the jack scores points. But within this simple framework lies a game of extraordinary subtlety and complexity. The bias of the bowl — an asymmetry built into its shape that causes it to curve as it decelerates — means that bowlers must aim not at the jack but at a point some distance to one side of it, judging the weight and angle of their delivery so that the bowl curves in towards the target as it slows. This requires a combination of physical skill, spatial awareness, and tactical thinking that makes bowls one of the most intellectually demanding of all outdoor sports.
The game's appeal, however, lies not only in its technical challenges but in its atmosphere. Bowls is played at a pace that allows conversation, observation, and reflection — qualities that are in short supply in the frenetic world of modern sport. There are no shouts of encouragement from the sidelines, no roars from the crowd, no instant replays on giant screens. Instead, there is the measured tread of players across the green, the quiet consultation between team members, the satisfying thud of a well-delivered bowl, and the occasional murmur of appreciation when a particularly skilful shot draws the attention of those watching from the benches. It is a sport that rewards patience, concentration, and the ability to maintain composure under pressure — qualities that its practitioners would argue are as valuable on the bowling green as they are in the rest of life.
The social traditions of bowls are as important as its sporting dimensions. The handshake before and after each game, the custom of buying a round of drinks for the opposition after a match, the code of dress and behaviour that varies from club to club but always emphasises courtesy and sportsmanship — these rituals create a framework of civility that distinguishes bowls from many other competitive sports. At the Highgate Bowls Club, these traditions are maintained with quiet pride, not as nostalgic affectations but as expressions of values that the members consider essential to the enjoyment of the game and the cohesion of the club.
The Summer Season
The bowling season at Highgate, as at clubs across the country, runs from late April to mid-September — the months when the English climate is most likely to produce the dry, warm conditions that the game requires. The opening of the green each spring is a minor ceremony, marking the end of the dormant winter months and the beginning of a new season of competition, friendship, and outdoor pleasure. The green, which has been resting and recovering since the previous autumn, is cut, rolled, and inspected with the critical eye of members who know every inch of its surface, and the first woods of the season are delivered with a mixture of anticipation and the slight rustiness that five months away from the game inevitably produces.
The season follows a rhythm that has changed little over the decades. Club sessions, typically on Tuesday and Thursday evenings and Saturday afternoons, provide opportunities for casual play among members, with games organised on the spot according to who turns up and what format seems most appropriate. League matches against other clubs — a fixture list that includes opponents from across the London boroughs — add a competitive edge, with teams selected by the captain on the basis of form, availability, and the tactical requirements of each match. And the internal competitions — the singles championship, the pairs, the triples, the mixed events — provide a structure of friendly rivalry that keeps members engaged throughout the season and produces champions who are celebrated with the same pride as any sporting trophy winner.
But the true pleasures of the summer season are not captured in fixture lists and competition results. They are found in the long evenings on the green, when the light is golden and the air is warm and the only sounds are the murmur of conversation and the gentle knock of wood on wood. They are found in the post-match gatherings in the pavilion, where the events of the game are replayed and dissected over drinks that are consumed at a pace as leisurely as the sport itself. They are found in the simple satisfaction of a well-played end, a difficult shot executed with precision, a team working in harmony towards a shared objective. These are modest pleasures, but they are real, and for the members of the Highgate Bowls Club, they are among the things that make the summer months in N6 worth living.
Membership and the Social Dimension
The Highgate Bowls Club has always been more than a sporting organisation. It is a social institution — a place where friendships are formed, where conversations are had, where people who live in the same neighbourhood but might otherwise never meet discover common interests and mutual affections. The membership, which in its current form includes both men and women of all ages, is drawn from across Highgate and the surrounding areas, and the green acts as a leveller in the best English tradition: on the bowling green, a retired judge and a postman, a university professor and a shopkeeper, are judged not by their social standing but by their ability to deliver a bowl to within inches of the jack.
New members are welcomed with a warmth that reflects the club's recognition that its survival depends on attracting fresh blood. The club offers introductory sessions at which newcomers can try the game under the guidance of experienced players, learn the basic techniques, and get a feel for the social atmosphere before committing to full membership. These sessions have proved remarkably effective at dispelling the common misconception that bowls is a game exclusively for the elderly — while the club's older members bring experience and steadiness, some of its most talented players are younger adults who have discovered that the game offers a satisfying combination of physical skill, mental challenge, and social pleasure that is hard to find elsewhere.
The social programme extends well beyond the bowling green. The club organises dinners, quiz nights, visits to other clubs, and occasional outings that have nothing to do with bowls but everything to do with the fellowship that the game creates. The annual dinner, held at a local restaurant or hotel, is one of the highlights of the club's calendar — an evening of speeches, awards, and gentle ribbing that celebrates the season's achievements and cements the friendships that the shared experience of the green has forged. For some members, particularly those who live alone or who have retired from the daily social interactions of the workplace, these events are a lifeline — a reminder that they belong to a community and that their presence is valued.
Survival in Modern Times
The Highgate Bowls Club, like bowls clubs across Britain, faces challenges that would have been unimaginable to its Victorian founders. The sport's traditional demographic — retired men with time on their hands and a taste for gentle outdoor recreation — is no longer sufficient to sustain a club, and the competition for people's leisure time from television, the internet, and a proliferation of alternative activities means that bowls can no longer assume that it will attract new members simply by existing. The club has had to become more proactive in its recruitment, more flexible in its playing arrangements, and more creative in its social programming if it is to survive into the next generation.
The relationship with the local authority, which owns Waterlow Park and is responsible for the maintenance of the green, is another source of uncertainty. Budget pressures on Camden Council have led to reductions in the grounds maintenance service, and the club has had to take on increasing responsibility for the upkeep of the green — a task that requires both expertise and resources that a small volunteer organisation cannot always guarantee. The question of whether the green will continue to be maintained to the standard that the sport requires is one that the club must address with the council on a regular basis, and the outcome is never certain.
There is also the broader cultural challenge of justifying the use of a significant area of public park for a sport that serves a relatively small number of people. In an era when parks are expected to provide for the widest possible range of users — joggers, dog-walkers, picnickers, children's playgroups, yoga classes, outdoor fitness sessions — the exclusive use of a large rectangle of prime parkland by a bowls club can seem anomalous. The club's response is to emphasise its role as a community institution that is open to all, to invite the public to try the game, and to argue that the bowling green — with its immaculate turf, its sheltering hedges, and its atmosphere of calm — is itself a feature of the park that contributes to the pleasure of all who use it, whether or not they ever pick up a bowl.
The Green as Sanctuary
For those who play there, the bowling green in Waterlow Park is more than a sporting venue. It is a sanctuary — a place where the pressures and anxieties of daily life can be set aside for a few hours in favour of the simple, absorbing pleasure of rolling a ball across a smooth surface towards a distant target. The meditative quality of bowls — the focus required, the repetitive physical action, the need to be fully present in the moment — has been compared to the mindfulness practices that have become fashionable in recent years, but bowlers have been enjoying these benefits for centuries, long before anyone thought to give them a therapeutic label.
The green is also a place of beauty, and the pleasure of playing there is inseparable from the pleasure of being in one of London's loveliest parks. The changing seasons bring different qualities to the experience: the fresh optimism of spring, when the green is newly opened and the trees are coming into leaf; the warmth and abundance of midsummer, when the light lingers until nine or ten in the evening; the mellow richness of early autumn, when the leaves begin to turn and the shadows lengthen across the green; and the final sessions of the season, when there is a touch of sadness in the knowledge that the green will soon be put to bed for the winter and the long months of waiting will begin again.
The Highgate Bowls Club's story is a small story — a story of a modest sport played on a modest green by modest people who seek nothing more than the pleasure of each other's company and the satisfaction of a game well played. But small stories are often the most telling, and this one speaks of something important: the enduring human need for community, for ritual, for contact with the natural world, and for activities that have no purpose beyond their own enjoyment. In a world that insists on measuring the value of everything, the bowling green in Waterlow Park stands as a quiet rebuke — a place where value is found not in productivity or achievement but in the simple act of being together, doing something that generations have done before and generations, with luck, will do again.
*Published in the Hampstead Renovations Heritage Collection — exploring the architecture, history, and stories of London's most remarkable neighbourhoods.*