A spring equinox walk
Half in light, half in dark
Hackney to Twickenham
19 and a half miles
Saturday March 22nd 2014
1.30pm – 1.30am
Dan, David and Sue
Well Street Common
Lambeth Palace Park
London Chest Hospital
St Thomas’ Hospital
Queen Mary’s Hospital
Battle of Cable Street
Houses of Parliament
The Fulham Group
The Putney Debates
Headteacher’s Car Only
Beware Guard Dogs
This is a designated locked site
Commit No Nuisance
We skirted south around The Gherkin and then The London Eye.
They were in the near distance, lit-up, electric, a yoni and a lingham.
The London Stone on Cannon Street was hidden, grimey, recessed and dim.
The wheel and the skyscraper appeared to have taken over the pulsing ‘sacred geometry’ of the city now.
The Worshipful Company of Management Consultants
The Worshipful Company of Fanmakers
The Worshipful Company of Fuellers
The Worshipful Company of Turners
The Walkie Talkie
The Trembling Lady
A man who said his dog ‘Caesar’ wouldn’t hurt us
A janitor who gave us the exit key code out of a Chelsea cul-de-sac, 37 37
A man who asked for money, saying his girlfriend had kicked him out
Three people who said ‘I love you’ to us under Twickenham Bridge
Sitting in the dark in Richmond Park, Dan read a passage from W.G. Sebald’s Austerlitz:
‘It was then, after my work of destruction in the garden and when I had turned out my house, that I began my nocturnal wanderings through London to escape the insomnia which increasingly tormented me. For over a year, I think, said Austerlitz, I would leave my house as darkness fell, walking on and on, down the Mile End Road and Bow Road to Stratford, then to Chigwell and Romford, right across Bethnal Green and Canonbury, through Holloway and Kentish Town and thus to Hampstead Heath, or else south over the river to Peckham and Dulwich or westward to Richmond Park. It is a fact that you can traverse this vast city almost from end to end on foot in a single night, said Austerlitz, and once you are used to walking alone and meeting only a few nocturnal spectres on your way, you soon begin to wonder why, apparently because of some agreement concluded long ago, Londoners of all ages lie in their beds in those countless buildings in Greenwich, Bayswater or Kensington, under a safe roof, as they suppose, while really they are only stretched out with their faces turned to the earth in fear, like travellers of the past resting on their way through the desert. My wanderings took me to the most remote areas of London, into outlying parts of the metropolis which I would never otherwise have seen, and when dawn came I would go back to Whitechapel on the Underground, together with all the other poor souls who flow from the suburbs towards the centre at that time of the day.”
All photos (as well as conversation about The Eye and The Gherkin) credited to David Williams.