We kept crossing over the river, trot trot trot we went; over Chelsea bridge, water either side stretched grey blue grey – swirly River Thames – Uber boats and clipper boat went by, smoothing through the green grey, making choppy waves – swell and then disappear – the wake fading away after they passed…
It was never there; the boat – that cut through the water, no trace now – the river returning to as it was before
No memory or imprint of the Uber, the Clipper of even the ducks a paddling by…
Along the embankment we went, weaving our way through the site of the old Battersea power station – now restaurants and arcades of shops have sprung up – and flats, lots and lots of flats rising so high in the sky…
And then we came to vauxhall bridge, over it we journeyed; this pathway across the river.
Someone built this bridge.
Someone designed it, worked out how much load it could take – calculated it – drew it with compass and ruler on paper.
My father was a civil engineer; he built bridges and my love of bridges started i think, when I first heard his stories – and picked up on his passion.
I started to notice bridges back then…
The beauty, the functionality – the awe at the weight they take – the trust we put in them and the wonder at how humans decided they wanted to cross water…
And went and found out how…
At first with a log across a stream and then it grew from there…
And so onto Lambeth we ran, over that bridge too and then along the embankment once more..
A fun run; playtime in London.
Looking at everything as if it were the first time.
When crossing Westminster we stopped and stared, at Big Ben
Anadi mentioned the joy of just looking; not labelling it at all
Not with the word ‘clock’ – or ‘Big Ben’ – nothing at all
Just looking and seeing and watching and being with it
As if it were the first time
It is the first time
Everything before gone; like the swell behind the Uber boat.
I finished my fastest ever marathon on Westminster bridge; it doesn’t feel like that ever happened either.
A story I can tell from time to time – if I care too
But it never happened
I certainly couldn’t do it
Who was that young thing
She certainly wasn’t me
She was then
And then is all gone
But we have now
And so Anadi and I ran across Westminster bridge and onto the embankment
We ran the opposite way to that young ghost runner…
At half the speed…!