A great man once wrote that when a man is bored of London he is bored of life. This great thrusting, pulsating chaotic mass of humanity has a life of its own. No so much a city as a nation, another great man said, a roost for every bird. But there are frequently people who tire of London and who feel the need to escape. They are not bored of life, far from it, but they sometimes feel the need to escape the pressure cooker. I think I know why.
I live in a suburb of London. One of the very first suburbs. My suburb was built before the railways and underground lines opened up vast swathes of the South of England and made them accessible and commutable to the metropolis. My suburb was built because it was less than an hour’s walk from the City. It is a great deal less than an hour to the West End (I should know, I do it twice a day) but at the time the West End was less of an employment hub than it is now. But I am one of the lucky ones. Most Londoners these days do not have the luxury of living close to work – or at least choose to avoid living in the scruffier parts which they might be able to afford. For many of my fellow denizens, London consists of their local high street, their local train station, the station local to their place of work and their office. No wonder they get bored.
I never tire of the view which I enjoy every morning. As soon as I have finished walking down a fairly down-at-heel street which borders a particularly run-down estate I am greeted by the magnificence of Old Father Thames, the might of the great buildings which hug the North side of the river and – of course – the imposing glory of the Palace of Westminster itself. Who could bore of that? But even with such sights on my doorstep there is a need to get away from time to time.
With an unusually free and non-exhausted Saturday at my disposal I thought I had better do something physically worthy to counteract the over-indulgence of the preceding week. So I strapped on my iPod, tuned it to Radio 6 and set off, intending to see how far I could walk along the Thames Path before I got bored. Not being one to waste an opportunity I also picked up my camera with the idea of snapping some of this fair city’s most interesting delights with which to wow my readers. This was to be a set of photos and commentary which would come to define the metropolis in the recession-hit days of mid 2009. Oh yes.
By the time I had got to the river my iPod had given up the ghost – out of battery. My first photo-op was to be the brilliantly named More London complex between London and Tower bridges. I would like to show you the photo I wanted to take, but apparently the camera had also run down. And then it started to rain.
I am not one to be put off by a bit of rain so I carried on. And I am glad I did. The architecture of riverside London is a history of the city itself, the juxtapositon of styles, eras and purposes are a feast for the eye and the imagination. From the clean modern lines of More London to the regenerated industriana of Shad Thames in a just a few yards. I remember when you could still smell the tea in the walls of the long-disused wharves. From the shiny new luxury flats to the post-war social housing, from the vibrant strips of cafes and restaurants to the South London boozers in just a few small steps, all the time with the grey beauty of the Thames at your side.
Walking takes you out of your normal environment, away from your everyday existence. A route far from the usual bustle affords you the temporary feeling of being on holiday. The opportunity to explore new avenues, to see new buildings and to sneek a peek into other people’s existence makes this a trip away from home. The best part is, it’s all on your doorstep. You don’t have to live in London to take a holiday in your home town.
Of course, the holiday spirit cannot go on forever. I was brought back down with a bump when I followed a sign to the Surrey Quays shopping centre. At the back of my mind was a need to buy a new printer cartridge, but the harsh normality of the place shocked me into the realisation that I was only five miles from home. I got the bus back.
“The architecture of riverside London is a history of the city itself, the juxtapositon of styles, eras and purposes are a feast for the eye and the imagination.”
London is indeed a wonder, even to people who have worked there and travelled through it countells times. There’s always something new to discover.
In fact, there’s even a thriving online community of recorded walks for your iPod:
http://londonwalks.libsyn.com/
But you have to make sure it’s charged before you set off
* countless times!
Damn keyboard
My father hailed from the East End – his dad and his dad’s dad both being dockers – so I have some affection for the Old Smoke.
But, to be honest, my affection was mainly for the people, communities and ways that existed around the old East End – and they are long gone. I agree that the architecture is still breathtaking in places – though I’m not much of a fan of modernist stuff such as the brutal National Theatre, the Gherkin or the new GLC building (compare that with the graceful and timeless elegance of the old GLC building). I’m sure they are fine buildings – but they are generic and could be from any city in the world.
Speaking more generally, I think we tend to take for granted what we have in this country in terms of architecture and landscape – something we only miss when they are gone.