Evening walks
Apr. 7th, 2005 07:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skyringTowards the end of yesterarvo I was feeling drained. My feet were falling off, the lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with me, and my brain was starting to seize up. “Did you think there might be a link between your sleeplessness and the amount of coffee you are drinking?” Bookczuk asked.
I took a thoughtful pull on my Starbucks.
I walked back past St Pauls – an awesome building and people are just walking by it uncaringly – and gratefully reclined on my bunk, shoes and socks off.
But half past five is too early for sleep. I think back to CoffeeBron’s comment about St Paul’s in the last beam of sunlight, seen from the Tate Modern. Maybe I can catch the same image. And check out the OBCZ at the Stamford Arms, a few minutes walk further on. And there was the possibility of a wild catch under the Millenium Bridge, according to the “Go Hunting” pages on the Bookcrossing site.
So I piled my gear into my tote bag, threw in a few books from the temporary OBCZ beside my bunk and set off. At first I went to the wrong side of St Pauls. Heading north when I should have been going south. On the map it is quite clear, but out in the open and the sun is in the wrong bit of the sky. And going the wrong way.
Blame the sun. Not my idiotic mapreading skills.
Still, it’s another chance to admire Sir Christopher Wren’s masterpiece, and I cut across the cathedral’s steps, lined by tourists and ignored by locals. Down to the Thames I go, and although the steps underneath the shiny footbridge over to the south bank are indeed a superb place to release a book, it is also a good place to catch one and I search in vain.
Out on the bridge I take in the riverscape. Downstream is the Tower Bridge, its bascules rising in unison. The rebuilt Globe Theatre is prominent, an odd contrast against the modern buildings on one side and the beautifully ugly Tate on the other.
And ahead of me, rising over the City, is the dome of St Pauls, airliners and seagulls wheeling above it. A few weak strains of sunlight illuminate the cathedral, but inspiration evades me. I enjoy the ambience of this pleasant outlook anyway.
Tourists and photographers linger, locals walk or jog past. Perhaps I do the same thing when I am home, striding down the grand avenues of Canberra while travellers pause in awe.
Eventually I turn from the river view, taking the walkway down to Southbank. A few pubs offer dining with these spectacular views but I am not keen to eat alone. Instead I keep walking to the Stamford Arms, where my Bookcrossing regalia shields me from pity.
I press through the throng of drinkers, looking for the official bookshelf. Upstairs and down on my mission, until at last I find it tucked away, just as I am about to give it up as a pleasant myth.
A pleasant bookshelf, full of good books ignored by the locals. I look through them, take a couple and leave a couple of my own. Mission accomplished!
Now that I know the way, my trip back over Blackfriars Bridge is speedy, spurred on by the knowledge that a burger and chips has my name on it back at the hostel. And the sight of vandalised telephone boxes hint at a certain lack of decorum amongst the locals after dark.
I am glad of my day of notional rest. I always intended that my first day here would be a chance for me to overcome jet lag before the main task. Perhaps my feet are hurting at the end of the day and I am shaking with fatigue as I settle in my lower bunk and read my book until the words fall apart and slumber claims me, but I have the beginnings of a feeling for this city, an appreciation of the problems I will face in trying to document and photograph my self-imposed task.
Trafalgar Square, at first glance a difficult proposition, provides me with an insight on how best to release a book about Nelson’s navy, when I consider the problem in the predawn watches.
Fleet Street, the Strand… I contemplate their different natures and come up with different release methods. A little thought, a little use of local resources. I think I can do this.
I took a thoughtful pull on my Starbucks.
I walked back past St Pauls – an awesome building and people are just walking by it uncaringly – and gratefully reclined on my bunk, shoes and socks off.
But half past five is too early for sleep. I think back to CoffeeBron’s comment about St Paul’s in the last beam of sunlight, seen from the Tate Modern. Maybe I can catch the same image. And check out the OBCZ at the Stamford Arms, a few minutes walk further on. And there was the possibility of a wild catch under the Millenium Bridge, according to the “Go Hunting” pages on the Bookcrossing site.
So I piled my gear into my tote bag, threw in a few books from the temporary OBCZ beside my bunk and set off. At first I went to the wrong side of St Pauls. Heading north when I should have been going south. On the map it is quite clear, but out in the open and the sun is in the wrong bit of the sky. And going the wrong way.
Blame the sun. Not my idiotic mapreading skills.
Still, it’s another chance to admire Sir Christopher Wren’s masterpiece, and I cut across the cathedral’s steps, lined by tourists and ignored by locals. Down to the Thames I go, and although the steps underneath the shiny footbridge over to the south bank are indeed a superb place to release a book, it is also a good place to catch one and I search in vain.
Out on the bridge I take in the riverscape. Downstream is the Tower Bridge, its bascules rising in unison. The rebuilt Globe Theatre is prominent, an odd contrast against the modern buildings on one side and the beautifully ugly Tate on the other.
And ahead of me, rising over the City, is the dome of St Pauls, airliners and seagulls wheeling above it. A few weak strains of sunlight illuminate the cathedral, but inspiration evades me. I enjoy the ambience of this pleasant outlook anyway.
Tourists and photographers linger, locals walk or jog past. Perhaps I do the same thing when I am home, striding down the grand avenues of Canberra while travellers pause in awe.
Eventually I turn from the river view, taking the walkway down to Southbank. A few pubs offer dining with these spectacular views but I am not keen to eat alone. Instead I keep walking to the Stamford Arms, where my Bookcrossing regalia shields me from pity.
I press through the throng of drinkers, looking for the official bookshelf. Upstairs and down on my mission, until at last I find it tucked away, just as I am about to give it up as a pleasant myth.
A pleasant bookshelf, full of good books ignored by the locals. I look through them, take a couple and leave a couple of my own. Mission accomplished!
Now that I know the way, my trip back over Blackfriars Bridge is speedy, spurred on by the knowledge that a burger and chips has my name on it back at the hostel. And the sight of vandalised telephone boxes hint at a certain lack of decorum amongst the locals after dark.
I am glad of my day of notional rest. I always intended that my first day here would be a chance for me to overcome jet lag before the main task. Perhaps my feet are hurting at the end of the day and I am shaking with fatigue as I settle in my lower bunk and read my book until the words fall apart and slumber claims me, but I have the beginnings of a feeling for this city, an appreciation of the problems I will face in trying to document and photograph my self-imposed task.
Trafalgar Square, at first glance a difficult proposition, provides me with an insight on how best to release a book about Nelson’s navy, when I consider the problem in the predawn watches.
Fleet Street, the Strand… I contemplate their different natures and come up with different release methods. A little thought, a little use of local resources. I think I can do this.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Hi skyring...
Date: 2005-04-07 08:26 am (UTC)it makes this American long for her home in England.
St. Pauls Cathedral is a marvelous place...
I have touched my computer screen at your words to bring me closer to the people and places that I miss, so much.
Please, give London a hu for me until I return home.
I miss England more than words can say...
*hugs*
CariAnne (Now Cari-B on BookCrossing)
Re: Hi skyring...
Date: 2005-04-07 08:54 am (UTC)You are very sweet. It is delightful here. But I feel I'm only getting a tiny fraction of the full experience - so many places to see, so little time! Only one pair of eyes.
I'll be back one day, but for now I'm enjoying every moment!
Pete
Re: Hi skyring...
Date: 2005-04-07 04:58 pm (UTC)Re: Hi skyring...
Date: 2005-04-07 05:07 pm (UTC)I have only one pair of feet as well, and they are near worn down to nubbins at the moment!
Re: Hi skyring...
Date: 2005-04-07 05:09 pm (UTC)And oh for your poor feet. Maybe I should go have a foot massage in proxy for you. Do you think it would transmit over the internet? ;-P
Re: Hi skyring...
Date: 2005-04-07 05:12 pm (UTC)Pete, wondering where to stick his feet