Building Bridges…

Building Bridges…

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…!

I take part in barefoot adventures to raise awareness and money for Crisis, the charity that supports the homeless

‘Together we will end Homelessness’

If you would like to donate to the cause you can find my just giving page here.