Hey hey we're the monkeys!

Summertime always brings a new exhibition to the National Museum of Scotland in Edinburgh. The current offering is Monkeys: Our Primate Family. It is the first exhibition of its kind to show ape and monkey taxidermy examples behaving as they would in the wild. More than 50 specimens have been assembled. Visitors can discover how primates have evolved and adapted to travel and hunt for food. The exhibition also reveals how the animals communicate and examines their complex social systems. Ever present threats such as extinction, habitat loss and hunting also form part of the narrative. On the upside, we also learn how conservations schemes can make a vital difference.

I took a train over at the start of my summer break and made my way up to Chambers Street. Museums are not immune to the cost of living increases and I had to pay £14 on the door. But the NMS is one of my favourite institutions and I'm always happy to support their work.

A week in Galloway

Southwest Scotland receives little tourist traffic in comparison to the Highlands and Islands. The rural Galloway region (west of Dumfries) comprises the historic shires of Kirkcudbright and Wigtown (separated by the River Cree). Plans to open a national park here were recently abandoned due to strong local opposition and it looks as if this secluded corner of Scotland will remain off the beaten track. We booked six nights in a self-catering apartment near the town of Newton Stewart, which has a good range of facilities including supermarkets and a cinema. The enormous Galloway Forest Park is nearby It took around two and three quarter hours to drive down via Glasgow and Ayrshire. There was a security presence near Turnberry as American President Donald Trump was in town on official business. Our accommodation was across the Cree from Newton Stewart, at the top end of a village called Minigaff. We were right on the edge of a forest and birds sang constantly.

The main road in the southwest is the A75 - running from Dumfries to Stranraer. It swings by the edge of Newton Stewart, meaning it would be fairly easy to get around. On our first full day, we drove round to Gatehouse of Fleet - a planned industrial settlement designed and built in the mid-18th century. Local landowner and entrepreneur James Murray developed several industries around his Cally Estate and this required housing for the influx of workers. Three mills produced cotton but this ground to a halt around 1810 due to an inability to compete with larger operations in central Scotland with better transport connections. A new lease of life was granted in 1832 when the disused buildings were equipped with modern machinery, including power looms. The canalisation of the River Fleet enabled an expansion of the sea trade. Once again, business declined and the model switched to bobbin manufacturing and the processing of bark for leather tanning. The site finally closed in the 1930s and left to decay. The lower mill was restored in the 1980s and opened as a visitor centre in 1991. Admission to the local heritage exhibition on the ground floor is free. There is also a tourist information service here. Aside from the industrial history, I learned about a couple of notable people from the surrounding area. Samuel Rutherford was a celebrated Scottish minister and theologian in the 17th century. His nonconformist views attracted the attention of the authorities and his best-known written work Lex, Rex was published in 1644. It was an attack on the absolute monarchy of the day, which believed it had the "divine right" to rule. As it turned out, King Charles I didn't last much longer on the throne and Britain became a republic for a decade. Upon restoration of the Kingdom, Rutherford found himself in hot water and was ordered to appear before Parliament facing accusations of treason. Knowing he was already close to death, Rutherford sent a reply stating he had already been summoned to face a superior judge. He passed away a few months later. A granite monument to Rutherford was erected in 1851, several years after the original structure had been destroyed by lightning. As they say in German - Der König schlägt zurück! Another local hero is mountaineer Hamish MacInnes. Born in 1930, he tackled many of the world's most challenging peaks. He was also regarded as the godfather of mountain rescue in Scotland, leading the Glencoe service for 30 years. He even designed a folding stretcher that is a standard piece of equipment worldwide. MacInnes was awarded the British Empire Medal for his exploits and also appears in the Scottish Sports Hall of Fame. He died at the grand old age of 90. I then wandered over to the display on lost Galloway railways. As you might expect, the region was hit hard by the Beeching cuts of the 60s. The long winding 73-mile cross-country route from Dumfries to Stranraer (also known as the Port Road) served Dalbeattie, Castle Douglas and Newton Stewart but was torn up in 1965, in the process severing a vital rail link to the Northern Ireland ferry service (access from Glasgow continued). There is an ongoing campaign to reopen this railway, based on the argument that the A75 carries heavy lorry traffic to and from Stranraer. Transferring these loads to rail would improve safety and ease congestion. Regarding passenger interest, we have already seen how the new Borders Railway has massively outperformed original forecasts. These projects however require many dots to be joined and there isn't usually the political will to do so. Somewhat ironically, we did have a fair degree of modal integration before the post-war expansion of the national road network.

Leaving Gatehouse of Fleet, we passed the grand entrance to the Cally Estate. The A-listed mansion was converted to a luxury hotel in 1934 and it boasts 56 bedrooms. The grounds contain a golf course and indoor leisure complex, with swimming pool. Our next destination was the harbour town of Kirkcudbright, which maintains a fishing fleet of over 20 vessels. Much of the catch is processed locally, making a significant contribution to the economy. Small cargo boats occasionally visit the port, which sits at the mouth of the River Dee, with the Solway Firth and Irish Sea lying beyond. A royal burgh and county town for many centuries, Kirkcudbright is a bustling place with wide streets in the centre. The branch railway from Castle Douglas closed in 1965. We ate lunch by the water and headed round to Broughton House, owned by the National Trust. En route, we dog-legged around MacLellan's Castle, a tall ruined tower house, dating from the late-16th century. Now in the care of Historic Environment Scotland, the grounds can be accessed by obtaining a free ticket during opening hours. Amusingly, a Rapunzel figure looks out from an upper window and her hair dangles downwards. She was installed in 2021 as part of an arts festival. Broughton House is the former home of artist and local lad Edward Atkinson Hornel, who was one of the esteemed Glasgow Boys - a circle of influential artists and designers that came together in the late 1800s. After living and working in various countries, Hornel acquired the Kirkcudbright townhouse in 1901 and settled there for the remainder of his life. He created his own studio, library and private gallery, amassing a large collection of artwork and historical documents, including a substantial amount of material relating to poet Robert Burns and also the Galloway region in general. Hornel died in 1933 and a trust was established to preserve Broughton House and its contents for the benefit of Kirkcudbrightshire, although his sister Elizabeth retained the right to reside within the property for the rest of her life. A 1992 fire placed financial pressure on the organisation and the National Trust stepped in to add the property to its portfolio. We rocked up at the front door, only to discover we had picked the only day in the week when the house was closed to visitors. A consolation prize of access to the rear garden was on offer and we trooped round to the side gate. A colourful piece of paradise lay on the other side of the portal. The Japanese-themed grounds are truly spectacular and bursting with exotic vegetation. Narrow curving stone paths led to two small lawn areas and there was something new to discover as you turned every corner. The bottom terrace gave elevated views across the marina on the River Dee. A real oasis of inspiration.

Hornel and his sister designed the two-acre layout themselves. The artist had drawn inspiration from a year-long stay in Japan in the 1890s. He handled most of the planting duties personally and added a glasshouse. As we left, there was no real sense of disappointment that the house had been inaccessible. We'll just have to return one day for a complete tour! I decided to visit the Stewartry Museum, while Nicole headed back to the harbour. Opened in 1893, the museum building hosts the county collection and features mainly human stories and natural history specimens. A wooden-floored balcony runs right around the oblong plan and a large collection of ancient stuffed birds (and other creatures) are displayed in tall glass cases. These animals probably weren't ethically sourced back in the day, ditto the bird eggs that supplemented the taxidermy. I was however able to compare and contrast the sizes of various species in relation to each other, something not always possible in the field. For instance, it's fairly common knowledge that a raven is larger than a crow, but you really appreciate the difference when presented with two specimens side by side at close quarters. I was also able to examine the crossbill, a bird I have only ever seen briefly in real life. Kirkcudbright grew around its harbour and international trade was being conducted in the mid 15th century. Smuggling became rife around Scotland in the 1700s. It had long been a small-time operation but the introduction of punitive commodity taxes (to pay for wars) created a high level of demand for illicit goods. The Galloway coast, with its many coves and inlets, was ideally suited to black-market runs and the excisemen found it challenging to cover such a large area. Sometimes they uncovered an operation but were unable to intervene due to being hopelessly outnumbered. A percentage of the cargo value was the reward for capturing a vessel, and the game of cat and mouse continued. Farming is the mainstay of the Galloway economy and the rearing of beef cattle developed on a large scale from the late 17th century. Before the coming of the railways, the beasts were driven to English markets on the hoof. The distinctive Belted Galloway cow has a thick white band around its midsection and is second only to the Highland breed in terms of public recognition. Kirkcudbrightshire is known locally as the "Stewartry" - on account of the territory being managed by a Crown steward in medieval times, rather than a sheriff, who was appointed to run a shire. I headed back to the harbour to meet Nicole, picking up a couple of local walking guides (and papers for my dad) from a traditional newsagent. Nicole had purchased a large painting of a hare, which now sits on our living room wall.

From the town fishmonger, we bought grey mullet for dinner and we snacked on a dressed crab at the Galloway Smokehouse on the way back to Newton Stewart. The next day would largely be dedicated to books. Like Kirkcudbright, Wigtown is a royal burgh and county town and was once a thriving centre of commerce with a busy port. However, the development of modern road and rail links did not favour Wigtown and it became increasingly isolated throughout the 20th century, losing key industries and administrative status. The closure of the nearby RAF base didn't help matters. Regeneration was required and in 1998, the town was rebranded as a trading hub for new and second-hand books. Around a dozen outlets are clustered around the centre and many people come to peruse the shelves. The annual festival draws a healthy crowd and attracts big-name authors, who perform readings. New businesses have sprung up to cater for the influx of visitors and the whole project has been a resounding success. Around 20 years ago, Nicole, my mother and I came down here on a day trip from Fife. Approximately three hours each way. Today would be a far more leisurely affair. You would need a couple of days to fully explore all the bookstores so I read a few blogs and selected a handful of shops to check out. The first place we entered (New Chapter) wasn't actually on my list but we happened to park outside. They had a fascinating wall display of items that had been found inside old books, including lottery tickets, newspaper clippings, postcards, family photos, invoices, handwritten notes and membership cards, along with actual bookmarks of all shapes, colours and sizes. Given our different literary tastes, Nicole and I took individual paths around the town. I crossed the road to visit The Bookshop - a business established decades before the relaunch of Wigtown and apparently the largest traditional second-hand dealer in Scotland, with more than a mile of shelving and around 100,000 titles to browse. I had read about Captain, the shop cat who roamed the premises, and was looking forward to meeting him. Worryingly, the most recent reference to this local legend had been dated 2022. My fears were confirmed by a blue plaque by the shop entrance. The Captain had indeed departed this earth. The inscription read "He was black and white. He took no shite. Remember me, I have already forgotten you" - a fitting epitaph that will resonate with all cat owners! The store is owned by Shaun Bythell, who wrote an absorbing account of trials and tribulations of running an independent shop. The Diary of a Bookseller has been translated into 28 languages and three follow-ups have been published. I had a good rummage through the various rooms and picked out a biography of rock musician Neil Young and a memoir of a railwayman who helped launch a heritage line in Wales. I heard Dutch and German voices within the shop, proving the international appeal of Scotland's book town. At the counter, I was served by Shaun himself and he confirmed the Captain had been a bit of a character. Shaun's own books were prominently displayed by the till - and why not!

I wandered through the town square down to the Old Bank Bookshop, whose name is pretty self explanatory, passing the grand County Buildings, currently awaiting refurbishment. Once again, I was confronted with packed shelves and I poked around but didn't find anything that took my fancy this time. My third port of call was Well-Read Books, which opened in 2018 within a former pub. Managed by retired Queen's Counsel Ruth Anderson, the shop has no specific specialisation, but one room is dedicated to crime, science fiction and fantasy. A small selection of new paperbacks can be found by the entrance. I purchased the Glasgow Trilogy by George Friel. The constituent volumes describe urban life in Scotland's largest city before the widespread demolition of the old tenements. I also found a tale of an intrepid traveller making his way from Berlin to Latvia by train just after the collapse of communism in eastern Europe. Thirdly, I spotted a collection of interviews with men who had fought in the First World War. A varied little haul for me. Unfortunately the ReadingLasses (nice wordplay) bookshop/café was closed due to the owners being on holiday. It is Britain's only book outlet where every title is female penned. Hopefully we will be back at some point. I can heartily recommend Wigtown to all book lovers, but it should be borne in mind that the vast majority of the available stock is second hand. You can even stay at the Booktown Bunkhouse. We drove down to the harbour to eat an alfresco lunch and visit the public bird hide. The tide was out in the bay, leaving the mudflats exposed. A sand martin nesting wall with embedded slots had been constructed in the adjacent field and the little birds (the smallest member of the swallow family) flew back and forth. We pushed southwards on the peninsula, arriving at the village of Whithorn. A branch railway from Newton Stewart served the area until 1964 (although passenger services were withdrawn in 1950). Whithorn is steeped in religious history, being the first recorded site of a Christian church in what is now Scotland, erected around 400 AD. The priory is located just off the main drag. Established in the middle of the 12th century, the opulent building fell victim to the Scottish Reformation of the 1560s and is now open to the elements in a ruined state. I wandered around within the four walls and gazed across to the Roundhouse, a full-scale replica of an Iron-Age dwelling based on archaeological evidence from excavations at the nearby Black Loch of Myrton. The original house (built circa 430 BC) was exceptionally well preserved due to immersion in the surrounding peat bog. The unearthing project provided valuable insights into construction techniques as well as the daily lives of the inhabitants. Three guided tours are offered per day and we had just missed the last one. The ticket also covers admission to the audio-visual presentation and exhibition at the Whithorn Trust Visitors Centre. We settled for a coffee in the small café area. I picked up some literature for the Whithorn Way - a walking trail that begins at Glasgow Cathedral and covers a wide variety of terrain over its 155-mile length. One for the future.

On the third day, we set off for Mull of Galloway, Scotland's most southerly point. The finger-like peninsula extends into the Irish Sea and we stopped at Drummore Harbour, which has good bird-watching opportunities. The village contains the last convenience store in Scotland as you head towards the southern extremity. The road became unfenced single track and we jostled for position with flocks of sheep as we passed through several miles of pasture. Finally we reached the tip of the known world and parked up by the RSPB centre. A stonechat sat in a bush on the other side of the fence. I read an information panel about the Mull of Galloway Trail - a route of 24 miles that runs up to Stranraer, eventually linking to the Ayrshire Coastal Path. Britain is become better connected with every passing year. A few hundred yards ahead, I could see the lighthouse, built in 1830 by Robert Stevenson (who else?). At the RSPB building, I bought a couple of pin badges and looked at the displays. The seabird colonies had mostly departed but gannets treat viewers to spectacular diving displays over the summer. Porpoises are also known to frequent the surrounding waters. We walked down to the tip of the land mass, not actually the most southerly point as the headland turns slightly east. The Isle of Man was visible on the horizon and the Cumbrian coast could also be identified. We walked back up to the lighthouse, past the old keeper's garden and a large foghorn mounted on the clifftop. Full automation was enabled in 1988. The sea is treacherous here, due to opposing tides swirling together. It cost £5 to climb up to the lighthouse cabin and I scaled the internal spiral staircase. At the top, I enjoyed 360-degree views and could see Ireland in the distance. The two lamps are mains powered but a back-up battery bank provides two days worth of additional electricity if required. The guide pointed out a jagged rock protruding from the mainland into the sea (named Gallie Craig), the actual southern extremity of Scotland. The foghorn is now used only for occasional demonstration purposes. This measure was introduced to prevent ship crews confusing signals from other vessels with a blast from the shore. The lighthouse windows were previously cleaned manually, with the keeper walking around a narrow wraparound ledge, while gripping a safety rail with one hand. This must have been a daunting task in the wind and rain. Indeed the lower balcony was very blustery when I stepped on to the exposed circular platform. I waved to Nicole who was sitting on a bench below. Back on terra firma, I studied a set of fingerposts, informing me that Douglas lay just 37 miles away on the Isle of Man. Meanwhile it was 2800 miles to Senegal, the winter destination for the gannets. Later in the afternoon, we drove up to Stranraer for petrol and continued along the shores of Loch Ryan to reach Corsewall Point. Another shore lighthouse stands here. Computerisation arrived in 1994 and the keepers' accommodation has been converted into a hotel and restaurant. The place was deserted when we arrived and we able to walk all the way around, spotting a manx shearwater among the waves. Meanwhile, ferries rumbled by in both directions . A man arrived in a car and enter the building. Most likely the caretaker. Internet searches suggest the hotel is still open. Perhaps only for special functions?

We drove back to Stranraer, which lost its final ferry traffic in 2011. Sailings to Belfast and Larne now depart from Cairnryan, seven miles further up the coast, which has no rail service. The switch makes little difference to vehicle drivers but the integrated harbour station at Stranraer is now redundant in terms of sea trade, while also inconveniently located for those travelling purely to the town. Moreover, the train timetable for the southwest has been cut due to lower overall demand. Bus links at Cairnryan fill the gaps but there is a lack of joined-up thinking here. Returning to our accommodation, we made plans for the next day. The National Trust manages a stretch of Solway Firth coastline around the village of Rockcliffe. The tide was out when we arrived and the sheltered sandy bay contained a number of rock pools. Coastal walks lead past areas of meadow and a causeway links the uninhabited Rough Island to the mainland. The island functions as a bird sanctuary and visitors are requested to stay away during the nesting season. We didn't have sufficient time to follow the walking trails and instead ate lunch by the beach, before moving on to the nearby village of Kippford. Again, a pleasant place by the water. After calling into a pottery, we headed to Threave Gardens, just outside the busy town of Castle Douglas. The National Trust acquired Threave Estate in 1957 and the grounds around the main house were developed as a visitor attraction, while also serving as an open-air classroom for the School of Heritage Gardening since 1960. The landscape of the wider estate is undergoing a 100-year project that aims to promote biodiversity and restore natural habitats such as wetland, marsh and grassland. Increasingly intensive farming practices had driven out most of the wildlife over the years. Generations of budding gardeners have been trained at Threave and new recruits arrive every year to work with the extensive plant collection and ornamental displays. The scheme has gained an international reputation and the latest addition to the estate is the Garden of Contemplation - a space designed to encourage peaceful reflection. We entered via the visitors centre, which contains a large café. The house tours had already finished for the day, but we had ample time to explore the parkland and formal areas. We decided to hike up to the main house and work our way across to the walled garden.

Towering over the landscape, Threave House is a B-listen baronial mansion, built in 1872 for the Gordon family. The striking red sandstone structure was apparently inspired by Castle Fraser in Aberdeenshire (which we were due to visit the following week). The most notable feature is the balustraded drum tower which faces northeast and contains the entrance, leading to a remarkable staircase. As well as offering commanding views of the estate and surrounding farmland, the house also looks towards the distant Galloway Hills. By the time the National Trust took possession of the estate in 1957, upon the death of Major Alan Gordon, there was talk of demolishing the house as it was badly in need of costly renovation. Fortunately the grand property was saved and the principal rooms have been refurbished to reflect life in the 1930s. Student gardeners are also accommodated here throughout the year, giving them the opportunity to live and work on site. The mansion should not be confused with Threave Castle - a ruined tower house on an island within the River Dee, a mile and a half away as the crow flies. The castle is cared for by Historic Environment Scotland and is accessible by boat, although no visitors are currently allowed due to masonry works. We walked towards the walled garden, one of the finest in southern Scotland and originally designed to supply the main house with fruit, vegetables and flowers. Today it is used to to demonstrate horticultural techniques and educate trainees. Indeed, a handful of young people were working within the compound. The produce today is sent up to the café kitchen. The yew-lined central avenue leads to the display glasshouse – a sensitive reconstruction of the Victorian original. The interior is divided into three zones of differing temperatures. The collection includes cacti, orchids and bromeliads. There are also koi carp in the indoor pond. We made our way back up to the visitor centre as closing time approached. A visit to Threave is highly recommended. A short drive brought us to the centre of Castle Douglas, where we parked near the bottom of the long and sloping King Street, the main thoroughfare of this 18th-century market town. It grew exponentially with the coming of the railway in 1859 (now sadly closed). There are many independent shops and eateries along, including the types of businesses long since vanished from places of similar size. Officially designated a Food Town, a visit to Castle Douglas allows you to take a (lengthy) stroll down memory laine.

London 2025

Summer has been very warm this year and my annual London walking project was sure to be thirsty work. I travelled south on the Lumo service and arrived around 6pm. It was a pleasant evening and I decided to walk from King's Cross to my hostel near Waterloo Station. My planned refreshment stop in Trafalgar Square had to be abandoned as the entire space was fenced off due to building works. Never mind, I would push on to my accommodation and eat there. Firstly, I had to negotiate the aftermath of a Palestine march on Whitehall. Large crowds of people were present but it all seemed very peaceful. I checked in at the Walrus Hostel, a place I now know quite well, ditto the surrounding streets. I ate in the kitchen area and headed off to my dormitory for the night. Trains clatter by constantly until midnight but it's surprising how quickly the brain learns to filter out the noise.

The plan for my first full day was to visit the Imperial War Museum in the morning and hit the Thames Path after lunch. I wasn't under any serious time pressure as the museum didn't open until 10am and could be reached in 10 minutes on foot. The Walrus offers a daily complimentary breakfast of toast, cereal and fruit juice. A most welcome touch. I supplemented this by walking to a cavernous Wetherspoons next to the Elephant & Castle tube station, just beyond the museum. The place was very quiet and I ordered a breakfast bap deal, which included unlimited access to the coffee machine. All for just £3.79. The Imperial War Museum is situated within the grounds of the former Royal Bethlehem Hospital. Opened in 1815, the psychiatric facility housed patients until 1930, when the operation was transferred to its present location in Croydon. The vacant site was gifted to London County Council and was transformed into Geraldine Mary Harmsworth Park, named after the mother of benefactor Harold Harmsworth, 1st Viscount Rothermere. Two wings of the old building were demolished and the remaining part developed into the museum we know today. The collections opened to the pubic in 1936. Meanwhile, a lido was constructed within the park, but closed in the 1980s when funding was tight. I wandered through the Tibetan Peace Garden, laid out in 1999 and consecrated by the Dalai Lama no less! The centrepiece is a bronze-cast mandala and eight meditation seats are grouped around this circular marker. Four contemporary western sculptures sit on the compass points and represent the elements air, earth, fire and water. A language pillar displays a message from the Dalai Lama in Tibetan, English, Chinese and Hindi - all spoken fluently by his holiness. Another monument of interest was a chunk of the Berlin Wall, inscribed with the painted text "change your life" - the artwork being one of many created on the western side by Jürgen Grosse. The wall divided Berlin from 1961 until 1989 and millions of people alive today were personally affected by its political and social significance, my wife and in-laws included. Inside the museum, my goal was to peruse the special exhibition about sexual violence during wartime. This was displayed on level 4 and I wandered leisurely through the lower permanent galleries beforehand. I had seen this material two years previously but thought I'd reacquaint myself with some of the displays, starting with WW1. When conflict broke out in 1914, a whopping 70% of Britain's wealth was controlled by just 1% of the population. Has the dial really shifted on that one? Over half the world's shipping was built in the UK and 300,000 horses worked the streets of London. I read a letter from a 9-year-old Irish boy, offering his services to armed forces chief Lord Kitchener. His application was politely declined. Despite the horrific effects of mustard gas on the battlefields, just 3% of cases proved fatal. The massive British and German fleets played a game of cat and mouse, facing each other just once, at the Battle of Jutland in 1916 - an inconclusive affair. I passed through the WW2 rooms and then the Holocaust galleries, where photography is prohibited.

Unsilenced: Sexual Violence in Conflict is the museum's (and indeed the nation's) first major exhibition on this topic. These acts are a common consequence of war and have been perpetrated throughout history. Historically marginalised or barely recorded, collecting these stories has not been a priority of the museum in the past and the exhibition aims to increase public awareness. Although the practice still occurs, sexual violence is no longer regarded as an inevitable by-produced of armed struggle, but rather a crime punishable by International Law. The case studies presented span the last century, from the outbreak of the Great War to the present day. These attacks do not occur in a vacuum and must be examined within the social and cultural contexts of the period concerned. War exacerbates existing inequalities and power dynamics. Propaganda routinely associates men with strength, dominance and aggression. Previously sound systems of law and order are eroded and groups of people - particularly within the military - can find themselves having substantial authority over others, often without accountability. Sexual violence is committed on every conceivable scale, from opportunistic individuals to organised groups targeting large numbers of people. There are many posters from WW2 that portray women as spreaders of venereal disease, while completely ignoring men's inevitable role in these outbreaks. The common practice of painting scantily-clad females on aircraft fuselages persisted until 2007. The material probed deeper than the popular image of women being assaulted and raped by enemy military personnel. Many British children were evacuated from urban areas to the countryside in advance of Hitler's blitzkrieg and some suffered terribly at the hands of supposedly friendly carers. Minimal checks had been made and there were even cases of older kids within the host family carrying out abuse. Perhaps the saddest tale I read concerned a teenage molester who was most likely himself a victim within the household. It made me wonder about the depths of depravity the human race can plumb. Children born as a result of sexual attacks can face their own challenges in being accepted or even legally recognised within a society that prefers to shun. An extremely thought provoking collection of material and credit to the museum for acknowledging its previous failure to tackle this endemic issue. I walked back to the River Thames and proceeded along the south bank as far as London Bridge Station. I filled my two water bottles and hopped on a train to Erith. Yes, it was going to be a warm afternoon's walking on the Kent side of the estuary. Last year, I finished my downstream Thames Path progress at the Erith Riverside Gardens, which were inaccessible and undergoing complete renovation. The project is now well advanced and the green space will feature a community growing area, adventure playground and river views. Granite blocks from the Chelsea Embankment further upstream have been shipped in to provide informal seating. This is a side benefit of the Tideway scheme - a massive sewer upgrade for central London that will prevent three million tons of untreated waste entering the river each year during periods of torrential rainfall, easing the pressure on the original Victorian system.

An expected find on the shoreline was a signpost pointing to Lower Largo in Fife, 460 miles away. It commemorates the 300th anniversary of Alexander Selkirk's arrival in Erith. He landed here in 1711 after being rescued from the uninhabited South Pacific island where he had been a castaway for several years. Selkirk eventually returned to his Fife hometown and his story became the inspiration for Robinson Crusoe - a 1719 novel by Daniel Defoe that became an eternal classic, second only to the Bible in terms of translated editions. It's little moments like this that really make walking worthwhile. The pieces of history you can stumble across. I passed the substantial Erith Pier, now fully restored and popular with anglers. A large Morrisons supermarket lay beyond and I bought lunch to enjoy by the riverside. Beyond Erith, the path diverts away from the shore and I followed a pavement alongside the premises of scrap metal dealers and recycling centres, while lorries came and went. Not the most attractive stretch, but these businesses have to be located somewhere and the industry is also part of the river's story. Across the water in Essex, a giant landfill operation was in the process of sculpting new land contours. Greater London was starting to disappear behind me and I soon found myself heading through the Crayford Marshes and back towards the Thames. This is a designated site of Special Scientific Interest one of the last areas of flood-plain grazing marsh within the city's political boundaries. An important habitat for plant life, insects and birds. I was now walking the London Loop, as well as the Thames Path. The former trail begins in Erith and tracks the municipal edges of the capital for 150 miles. It's not quite a continuous circuit as the Thames drives a wedge through the circumference. Thirdly, I was also treading the King Charles III England Coast Path - an ambitious route around the whole of England (excluding the inland border with Wales, currently served by the Offa's Dyke National Trail). The King Charles Path is not yet fully complete, but the majority is open and the missing links are in varying stages of construction and approval. Walkers must proceed along the Thames Estuary and use the Woolwich Foot Tunnel to reach the opposite bank. After skirting another mixed industrial compound along the water's edge, I reached the mouth of the River Darent, a tributary of the Thames. The nearest crossing lay two and a half miles upstream and I had no choice but to take this lengthy detour. I had anticipated this issue and rather than double back in uninspiring fashion up the other side of the Darent, my plan for today was to branch on to the Cray Riverway, also part of the London Loop. This would take me to Crayford, where I could finish my stage within the tranquil setting of Hall Place Gardens - a grand estate now publicly owned. Off I set along the Darent, its concrete flood barrier to my left. The official Thames Path Extension ends here. Future signage along the principal river would bear the King Charles logo. The Darent (also known as Dartford Creek) is subject to the tidal forces of the Thames and the local flood barrier (built in 1981) can be dropped down to prevent surges inland during times of unusually high water. I made good progress through the marshes and joined the River Cray, which was formerly used to transport materials from the mills and brickworks towards the Thames for onward shipment. I passed by a modern industrial estate and over the busy Thames Road to re-join the Cray for a spell of quiet walking through a man-made wetland. Eventually I reached Crayford town and continued to the Hall Place entrance.

The grade-1 listed mansion was built in 1537 and retains many original features, including the distinctive checkerboard style of masonry crafted from flint and rubble, the beautiful redbrick courtyard and the spectacular plaster ceiling in the Great Chamber. Tours are offered on one day per month (cost £9) but the grounds and gardens are open every day and entry is free. The visitor centre and café had already closed by the time I arrived but I was able to take advantage of the extended summer opening hours for the general estate. I was happy to rest in an attractive location, having just walked seven continuous miles in the sunshine. I found a bench and refreshed myself with lukewarm water, which was certainly better than nothing. I explored the topiary garden beside the main house. The Queen's Beasts - giant heraldic animals, including a unicorn and griffin - were planted in celebration of the 1953 Coronation. The 65-acre garden footprint had been opened to the public the previous year. Wildflower meadows are mixed with more formal herbaceous borders. There is also a sunken garden and grass labyrinth, deeper within the grounds. The traditional walled compound has a glasshouse containing rare and exotic plants. An independent partner operates a butterfly experience here. The Cray flows through the estate and remains of a 19th-century watermill can be found. Meanwhile the Jacobean barn has been converted into a steakhouse. I had a stroll around the kitchen garden and orchard before checking out the house exterior. After a series of extensions and alterations, Hall Place was purchased in the mid-18th century by Sir Francis Dashwood, a politician who would go on to serve as Chancellor of the Exchequer. He was also a notorious rake and a founding member of the dissolute Hellfire Club. From 1795, the estate was leased as a school for young gentlemen. Maitland Dashwood (grandson of Sir Francis) implemented significant changes in the 1870s, adding the lodge, linking the house to the water mains and installing much of the fine wood panelling and parquet flooring. The last tenant of Hall Place was the Countess of Limerick, who lived there from 1917 until her death in 1943. Thereafter the house was turned over to the armed forces, who set up a signals intelligence operation. Both British and American troops were stationed here. After the cessation of hostilities, the mansion became an annex to a girls school and was later used by the local council for library and museum services. In 2005, lottery funding was received to transform Hall Place into the public amenity we can enjoy today. The stable block is now an art gallery, showing local work. The entire estate is a community asset for the people of Crayford and the wider London Borough of Bexley. It was time to head back to Waterloo.

Crayford Station was a 15-minute walk away and I picked up a cold drink from the neighbouring retail park. Tucked away in the corner was the closed greyhound stadium. Owned by Ladbrokes, the track had staged its final race just six months previously. The venue was well known within the sport and hosted many prestigious events. Opened in 1986, the modern facility offered viewing from a tall stand on one side. The development was part of a project that involved the demolition of the massive Crayford & Bexleyheath Stadium, a venue that hosted both speedway and dog racing. Most of the land used was for the shopping park but space was allocated for a lower-capacity greyhound track. The arrangement worked well for many years but the sport is now in terminal decline. Once hugely popular among the working-class (and second only to football as a spectator sport), greyhound racing has been eclipsed by new forms of entertainment. Meanwhile, the large urban tracks have closed steadily over the years, often as a result of the land value beneath them. Animal rights concerns have also increased over time. Romford is the only remaining circuit within the entire Greater London zone. The Scottish strongholds of Powderhall (Edinburgh) and Shawfield (Glasgow) have disappeared forever. Thornton (Fife) is currently in abeyance, meaning Scotland currently has no greyhound scene. Gone to the dogs, one might say. Undeniably a huge social change, for better or worse. I was able to tap my card on the TfL terminal and access a bargain fare at Crayford Station, as this part of historic Kent is politically within London. I rolled into Waterloo East, 40 minutes later. An elevated walkway took me to the main Waterloo concourse and I relaxed with a pint of East London Night-watchman at Wetherspoons. A midweek price of £3.49. Can't argue with that! The next day's schedule involved a wander upstream from Staines to Windsor. Although the trail distance would be slightly longer, I didn't have to factor in a museum visit beforehand and could approach this stage as a leisurely ramble. Even better, my train would depart from Waterloo, just around the corner from my hostel.

The fully air-conditioned Lion & Unicorn Wetherspoons opened within Waterloo Station less than a year ago. As you would expect, prices are more expensive in Central London compared to the rest of the country but the bottomless tea & coffee is pegged at the national rate of £1.71. A supreme bargain and a great tip for anyone doing London on limited funds. Back at the ticket barriers, I examined the National Windrush Monument, designed by Jamaican sculptor Basil Watson. Unveiled in 2022, the artwork depicts a family of three standing atop their luggage. It commemorates the Caribbean immigrants who arrived on Empire Windrush in 1948 to seek a new life in the United Kingdom. The wave of newcomers became known as the Windrush Generation and they had been actively encouraged to sail to the Motherland to fill gaps in the labour market. Often this meant undertaking menial jobs that local people were reluctant to apply for. Despite many decades of working and paying taxes in this country, certain members were targeted by a hostile government policy in 2018, a process that provoked national outrage and became known as the Windrush Scandal. The issue stemmed from the legal right of children to travel on parental passports (I was able to do this in the early 1980s). Many of the minors on Empire Windrush (and other ships) entered the UK without documents of their own. Not a concern at the time, as they weren't required. The kids grew up as part of British society and those affected by the scandal were suddenly asked to prove their right to be here. People were detained and the whole thing reeked of racial injustice. A national disgrace. My train arrived and I was heading outside the London travel boundaries, meaning a regular ticket was needed for the 45-minute journey. Off peal fares apply after 9.30am. I already knew the route from Staines Station to the Thames and I hit the path, pausing at Sainsbury's on the edge of town to stock up. Staines lies within the County of Middlesex and the walk took on a distinctly rural feel after I had passed below the M25 bridge. The orbital motorway doesn't have any administrative significance but many people consider the circular road to demarcate the extent of London's social influence. Many barges were moored on the riverbank and I entered the vast green space of Runnymede. Some of the grassland is publicly owned and the rest managed by the National Trust. The Thames flows around the edges and I found a nice shaded spot for lunch. The area is notable for being the site of the Magna Carta signing. The document was legally enshrined in 1215 and established significant personal freedoms, as well as placing limits on the power of the monarch. I passed a statue of Queen Elizabeth II, overlooking the river, and approached the National Trust territory. To my left on a distant ridge stood the Air Forces Memorial - commissioned in 1953 and dedicated to the 20,000 men and women from the British Empire whose lives were lost in air operations during WW2. The name of each person is engraved upon the stone walls, according to country and squadron. The National Trust do not restrict pedestrian access to Runnymede. A fee is charged for use of the car-park. The exact location of the signing ceremony is unknown but King John met with rebel barons to thrash out the new terms. Facing a revolt, he had little choice but to negotiate. The royal seat of power lay just a short horse ride away in Old Windsor.

A strip of mown grass form the trail that takes you to the main monuments. American heiress Lady Fairhaven bought the land from the Crown in 1929 and donated it to the National Trust. Storyboards are positioned at regular intervals to give you a flavour of the turmoil back in the early 13th century. King John had become unpopular due to a feud with the church and a costly war against France. The ratification of the Magna Carta enabled the right of trial by jury, a fundamental principle of our justice system to this day. The walkway ran past a 16-piece willow sculpture known as Haymaking, depicting a rural scene prior to the Industrial Revolution. Slightly off-piste are the 50 granite steps leading uphill to the John F Kennedy Memorial, the 35th President of the USA, who was assassinated in Dallas, Texas, in 1963. Those who remember this world-shaking event can still recall the moment they heard the news. The shooting came not long after the Cuban Missile Crisis and led to extremely uncertain times. It's no exaggeration to say the planet stood on the brink of nuclear war. I shall refrain from delving into the JFK affair and all the associated conspiracy theories. You could probably spend the rest of your life reading about that. I was simply in town to view the tribute to the man. As you walk through the entrance gate, you step on to American soil. An acre of land was given to the people of the United States in the aftermath of JFK's death, recognising his role in bringing the aforementioned arms crisis to an end. The memorial is made of Portland stone and weighs seven tons. An additional path leads out to a "seat of reflection" overlooking the Thames. I explored the site, which is maintained by the Kennedy Memorial Trust, a charity that also provides scholarships for British students to study at Harvard University and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. I climbed back down to the meadow and proceeded to the Magna Carta Memorial. It was erected in 1957 by the American Bar Association, reflecting the influence the historical charter had on the American Bill of Rights and Constitution. The Runnymede visit had been very educational for me and it was a nice break from the relentless river walking. The National Trust operate a tearoom on site and pledge that all profits are used to help maintain the meadows. I bought a cold drink and a snack, the least I could do considering I had nicely swerved the car-parking fee. Returning to the trail, I passed by Old Windsor village, signalling that I was now in Berkshire. I still had a few miles ahead of me and the trail stuck fairly rigidly to the river, although I had to switch sides at into Buckinghamshire one point and walk through a lovely little place called Datchet. I assume the opposite bank was part of the Winsor Castle grounds and therefore out of bounds to the general public. After crossing back over, I could see Windsor ahead of me. I skirted Home Park, still part of the Crown Estate but managed by the local authority and gifted to the townsfolk in 1851 by Queen Victoria. Signs informed motorists that a state visit was in progress and to expect extra security measures and possible delays. I wondered who could be in town to meet the King? A quick online consultation informed me it was the French President Emmanuel Macron. This quickly became obvious as the town centre was bedecked in Union Jacks and French tricolours. I stood on the historic Windsor Bridge which connects the town to neighbouring Eton. The present structure opened in 1824 and now carries only pedestrian and cycle traffic. I decided to not to explore Eton today as I had just walked nine miles in hot conditions and was in need of a comfortable seat and a cold drink. The town centre is very compact and I went into the Wetherspoons across the street from the imposing castle. A glass of iced Pepsi followed by a couple of pints of Greene King IPA hit the spot. Meanwhile I wrote out a few postcards I had picked up from the souvenir shop next door. I had to send them from London as all the Windsor post-boxes had been sealed as part of the security operation.

The castle dominates the middle of Windsor and it was possible to walk around some of the perimeter and view the outer walls of the royal residence from behind the temporary barriers. Still a functioning home for King Charles, Windsor is the world's largest inhabited castle and the longest continually occupied palace in Europe. It is often used to host foreign heads of state and was completely refurbished following a disastrous fire in 1992. Over a million gallons of water were used to quell the flames, which in some ways caused more restoration headaches than the actual blaze. The incident provoked a national political debate regarding who should pay for the repairs. The agreed solution was to fund the work by opening up parts of Buckingham Palace and the Windsor parkland for public tours. Windsor Castle can now be visited for a fee of £35 per adult, with local residents paying half of that amount. Not today obviously, with the big (French) cheese in town. Founded by William the Conqueror in the 11th century, the stronghold at Windsor has been the home of 40 monarchs and the surrounding streets have a distinct royal feel. Within the private grounds of the castle is Adelaide Cottage, home to the Prince & Princess of Wales and their young family. The main bottom gates mark the start of the Long Walk, a 3-mile dead-straight avenue leading into Windsor Great Park. I wandered round to look down this iconic roadway, site of many a ceremonial procession. The statue of George III on horseback was clearly visible upon Snow Hill in the distance. Originally the hunting grounds for the royal household, the sprawling area of parkland (5000 acres) is now largely open to the public and is a nationally important site for flora and fauna. Further Crown residences lie within its confines. Perhaps I will base myself near Windsor for a future assault on the Thames Path around these parts. Inevitably at some point I'll have to think about an alternative to London accommodation. My work was done for today and I wandered back towards Windsor & Eton Riverside Station, one of two termini in the town. The journey back to Waterloo took around an hour and I ate at the hostel before retiring for the night. On Wednesday I travelled out to Dartford (from Waterloo East) to pick up the English Coast Path alongside the River Darent. From here I would head back through the marshes to reunite with the Thames. It was another hot day and my sun cream was running low. I bought an additional tube on Dartford High Street and came across a statue of Rolling Stones mainstays Mick Jagger and Keith Richards in a stage pose. Both men hail from the Kent town and famously met on the station platform as teenagers. Although the legendary rock n' roll group was founded in 1962 by Brian Jones, Jagger and Richards became the principal songwriters and remain the visual focus of the band to this day. They are also the sole remaining original members. There's a little lesson here. If you're close to a town centre with some time on your hands, go and have a look around. You may well find something of great interest that you weren't previously aware of. The bronze artwork was completed in 2023 and really captures the energy of a live performance.

I found my way to the river and followed the path out of town. Commercial traffic on the Darent (aka Dartford Creek) ceased in 1980 and the lock controlling water levels was abandoned. A community project has been working on restoring the navigation channel and has made steady progress. I was soon back on the marshland, walking along a winding embankment, most likely constructed to provide vehicular access to the Darent flood barrier in the distance. The steel gates can be dropped to protect the low lying towns of Dartford and Crayford when the water in the Thames rises above a certain height. I reached the Thames shore and continued in the obvious direction. I surprised a group of female pheasants as I passed by. Downstream loomed the mighty form of the Queen Elizabeth II Bridge, a cable-stayed structure remarkably similar to the Queensferry Crossing in Scotland. Together with the Dartford Tunnel, the QE2 Bridge carries the orbital M25 traffic over/under the Thames, with southbound drivers proceeding above ground. The bridge opened in 1991 to take the strain off the twin-bore tunnel system. The whole arrangement is known as the Dartford Crossing and tolls apply between 6am and 10pm. It is the only way of driving across the river east of London. Cars are currently charged £2.50, dropping to £2 if you set up an account to pay in advance. Local residents at either end are offered heavily discounted annual packages. As I approached the underside of the bridge, I passed enormous Amazon and IKEA depots to my right. Being perched on the very edge of the Greater London conurbation must be a suitable spot for accessing the huge population within and also reaching swathes of England outside of the capital. I walked below the rumbling traffic and continued in a straight line, gaining relief as I strode across smooth concrete after miles of stony surfaces. My end point for today's leg was the small waterfront town of Greenhithe, formerly home to the floating Thames Nautical Training College - based aboard ships moored in the river, among them the iconic clipper Cutty Sark, stationed here from 1938 to 1954. The famous vessel is now a museum ship further up the Thames at Greenwich, where she draws many visitors. Greenhithe's role as a commercial port has all but vanished. Modern warehouses are dotted along the shore but rely on road transport. Some heavy industry remains and I walked around the boundary of a building aggregates plant. The path led to an Asda superstore and I picked up lunch before heading back to the shore for a seat on a steel bench. I had completed six miles and it was approaching mid-afternoon. The railway station was just five minutes away and is situated beside a local bus interchange. The complex is handy for the nearby Bluewater Shopping Centre, the fifth-largest such facility in the UK featuring over 200 stores, 50 places to eat and a 17-screen cinema. The development employs 7000 people and is ringed by lakes (hence the Bluewater name). A wander around a shopping centre wasn't on my agenda today and I caught a train back to Dartford and made my way to the Flying Boat - a large airy Wetherspoons inside a former car showroom. I enjoyed three leisurely pints of Purple Moose Bitter. The brewery is located in Porthmadog, Wales. I now had just one more stretch of Thames walking ahead of me. On the final full day in London, I walked along the bustling south bank of the river towards the Tate Modern art gallery, passing the quirky Oxo Tower, formerly owned by the fabled stock-cube manufacturer. At the time, skyline advertising was prohibited in the area, but when the tower underwent renovation in the late 20s, three new windows were aligned that, er, "coincidentally" formed two circles with a cross positioned between them. After a period of dereliction, the building now hosts a number of gift shops and craft outlets. I noted the Bernie Spain Gardens, named after a local resident and activist who vigorously campaigned in the 1970s against a faceless corporate rework of the riverbank, that would have denied access to pedestrians. She passed away in 1984, but would surely approve of today's thriving scene.

I arrived at the riverside gallery just before the 10am opening time. The old power station houses one of the biggest collections of modern and contemporary art on the planet. St Paul's Cathedral stands above the opposite bank and the two sides are linked by the Millennium Bridge (for pedestrians only). General admission to the Tate is free, but some themed exhibitions require a purchased ticket. The interior space is vast and you can easily spend a few hours perusing the artwork. A downward sloping entrance ramp takes you to the cavernous turbine hall. A glass roof lets in light way overhead. Off to the immediate right are the old oil-storage tanks, now hosting dimly-lit gallery space focussing on sound and vision installations. The power station closed in 1981 and for many years was eyed by developers. Conversion to today's facility was completed in January 2000, as part of the nationwide Millennium celebrations. I viewed Alberto Giacometti's Man Pointing sculpture (pictured below). He produced a series of elongated figures and portrait busts, often stretched, scarred and mutilate, to evoke feelings of isolation and anxiety. Another room contained a sonic and sculptural cartography of Matanzas, Cuba, by Maria Magdalena Campos-Pons. Many of the artwork's elements depict the sea and the black Caribbean culture of the Matanzas region, including sugar refining and rum production. Back in the great hall, escalators take you to the upper levels. I have been here a couple of years previously, but most of the displays had changed over the intervening period. Crucially, I knew the location of the free water points. This was turning out to be the hottest day of my trip. Civil war was a major theme running through the gallery. Paintings depicted scenes from the infamous Spanish conflict and also turmoil in Guatemala. One particularly moving image was Burning Country by Arahmaiani, referencing traumatic events witnessed by the artist in her home country of Indonesia in1998. During a period of economic crises, food shortages and unemployment, students began a series of demonstrations against the authoritarian regime of President Suharto. The killing of four students at a protest triggered three days of arson attacks and acts of racially motivated violence, mostly directed against women of Chinese descent. Around 1500 people were raped or murdered. An exhibition entitled Gathering Ground looked at threatened ecologies, bringing together art that examines the delicate web of connections that sustain us all. A black and white film showed slow-motion footage of the underwater nuclear test explosions conducted in the Pacific Ocean in 1946. The United States conducted a total of 67 experimental blasts, the cumulative force being 7000 times greater than the atomic bomb dropped on the Japanese city of Hiroshima. The resulting environmental damage was devastating and affects the region to this day, with some of the atolls still regarded as uninhabitable. No modern art gallery is complete without a sculpture radiating a bit of comedic value. A series of boulders topped with fruit in varying stages of decomposition ticked that box for me.

I browsed a display that highlighted suppression of the Sami culture in northern Europe. Their indigenous territory extends across upper parts of Norway, Sweden, Finland and also the Russian Kola peninsula. We tend to think of the Scandinavian nations as being tolerant and fair, however the native Arctic people have seen their way of life become marginalised. Well-known artists such as Pablo Picasso and Andy Warhol were featured in the gallery. I also learned about a recent historical event I can't recall personally - the massacre of the Nepalese Royal Family in 2001 - perpetrated by Crown Prince Dipendra! He then shot himself in the head and the throne passed to Gyanendra, brother of the murdered King Birendra. The monarchy was subsequently abolished in 2008. One tall artwork that genuinely impressed me was Babel 2001 - a tower of radios emitting sounds at varying time intervals. A solid base of large 1950s valve-driven cabinets provided the foundation and progressively smaller and more modern devices were placed on top. After this healthy dose of culture, it was time to tackle my final walk. I caught a train from London Bridge to Greenhithe and followed the shoreline out of town. Today's wander would take me through Swanscombe and Botany Marshes. Despite the presence of many hulking industrial concerns by the waterside, the low-lying inland territory of former grazing marsh is a sanctuary for wildlife, supporting at least 16 endangered species. Three of the six native British reptiles are found here: grass snake, slow worm and viviparous lizard. The mix of dense and open habitat provides an optimal combination of shelter, foraging areas and places to bask in the sunshine. Small birds thrive here, with established populations of reed warbler, sedge warbler and bearded tit. Water voles make burrows in the banks of streams and ditches. Sadly, it is now Britain's fastest declining wild mammal and sites like this are vital in the struggle for survival. The area is managed to prevent succession into woodland and scrub, which would dry out the soil and decrease the biodiversity. Britannia Refined Metals Ltd actively supports the conservation measures on the firm's doorstep. Ditches are being reconnected and non-native trees removed. I swung past the industrial areas and entered Northfleet - a town of 30,000 inhabitants. A familiar hue poked above a fenced compound. This was the depot for the London Bus Company, who hire out vehicles for weddings, filming projects and corporate events. Their heritage fleet dates from 1947 to 1990 and colours other than red are, surprisingly, available. Prices start at £900. I walked alongside a football stadium, home of Ebbsfleet, who compete in the National League South, the sixth tier of the English system. Plans are afoot to build a new 8000-capacity ground for the club. For some curious reason, the County of Kent (beyond it's historic parts inside London) has never been a major player in the sport, possibly because there isn't a dominant major city, just a collection of medium-sized towns. Until now, I usually had some sort of green barrier between the coastal path and any commercial sites it skirted. Not any more. I was pitched right into the thick of a working riverside, some plants noisily functioning and others rusting and derelict. Many lorries and vans were parked up, awaiting cargo. Northfleet Harbour is remarkably intact, despite decades of fly-tipping and general neglect. A public trust has been formed with the aim of restoring full use and creating a base for historic vessels and ship builders, making the most of the area's maritime heritage. The footway was always clearly marked and a couple of minor diversions were adequately signposted. Eventually the industrial activity thinned out and I reached the outskirts of Gravesend, my final destination for the day.

Upon reaching the centre, I rested in the waterfront gardens. Gravesend was historically the first and last place on the Thames Estuary for vessels to berth, depending on which way they were travelling. The cast-iron pier (built in 1834) is the oldest remaining example of its type in the world. It was completely refurbished in 2004 and now boasts a bar and restaurant. I spotted a Polish mini-market across the road and fetched myself a bottle of Pepsi Lemon Twist - a drink I hadn't tasted in years, but one of my favourites. Today it was better than the nectar of the gods! The town of 60,000 residents sits on an incline and I wandered up the High Street in search of the fabled Pocahontas statue. It stands in the graveyard of St George's Parish Church. Erected in 1958, the statue is an exact replica of the original artwork in Jamestown, Virginia, which was unveiled in 1922. It was presented as a gift to the British people, a gesture prompted by The Queen's visit to the States the previous year. Pocahontas was Native American woman, belonging to the Powhatan people. She was the daughter of a local chief and was was captured and held for ransom by colonists during hostilities in 1613. During her imprisonment, she was encouraged to convert to Christianity and she married tobacco planter John Rolfe at the age of 18, bearing a son. In 1616, the Rolfes travelled to London, where Pocahontas was presented to English society as an example of the "civilised savage" with the hope of procuring investment in the Jamestown settlement. She became a celebrity of her time, but died at the age of 21 from unknown causes, having become seriously ill after boarding a ship bound for America. She was taken ashore at Gravesend and buried at St George's after her death. The exact location of the grave can only be estimated, as the church has since been completely rebuilt. Pocahontas became the first Native American to feature on a US stamp and her life story has been told in several stage plays. Most famously, she inspired the 1995 Disney film production that grossed large sums at the box office worldwide. I haven't actually seen the movie but its probably safe to say that quite a few liberties were taken with historical accuracy. But that's par for the course. I decamped to Wetherspoons and treated myself to a curry for the final evening meal of the holiday. As luck would have it, the special "curry club" deals are available every Thursday. The fish & prawn option was excellent, with poppadoms and onion bhajis on the side. Just soft drinks tonight as I alcohol doesn't have great re-hydration properties beyond the short term. I rode the train back to Waterloo, delighted that I had successfully completed each mission and my exploration of the Thames now covered many continuous miles. Progressing along the estuary beyond Gravesend would present logistical challenges due to a lack of railway and limited bus services in far-flung Kent. Heading further upstream from Windsor would be easy enough for some distance. No doubt I'll come up with a plan.

I wasn't due to depart for Edinburgh until 1448 on the Friday and I had ample time to schedule a visit to Highgate Cemetery, particularly as I could simply hop on a direct tube train from Waterloo. I had a breakfast bap and coffee refills at the Lion & Unicorn and emerged in North London on yet another stifling day. I was carrying a full pack but the cemetery was just a 15-minute walk from the underground station and I wasn't planning anything more ambitious than a gentle amble around the main paths. To reach the main gates I had to pass through Waterlow Park - bequeathed to the public in 1889 and carved from the combined grounds of five properties. Lauderdale House stands at park entrance and has a café terrace to the rear. The 1582 Tudor mansion. The house now functions as a community arts and education centre. It hosts weddings and other social events on a non-profit basis. Highgate Cemetery has a £10 admission fee and their website is at great pains to point out that this revenue is essential for maintaining the historic burial site. Highgate is still very much a working cemetery but is owned by a trust that receives virtually no income from public funds. It costs £1.5 million per year just to keep the doors open. Free passes are available to family members visiting the graves of loved ones. As for me, well I was on a special pilgrimage. To see God! More of that in a while. Highgate was one of seven London cemeteries established in the 19th century to alleviate the strain on local churchyards as the population of the city expanded rapidly. Today's layout features an east and west side, opened 20 years apart. I was handed a map upon entry and quickly located the resting place of Bruce Reynolds (1931-2013) - the leader of the criminal gang of 15 that committed the infamous Great Train Robbery in 1963. The heist netted £2.6 million, worth around 25 times that amount today. All the participants are dead now. A short walk brought me to Highgate's most-visited tomb. German philosopher and political theorist Karl Marx (1818-1883) was re-interred here in 1956, alongside the remains of wife Jenny von Westphalen and their grandson Harry Longuet. An inscription reads, the philosophers have only interpreted the world in various ways. The point however is to change it. Food for thought. Ah, yes, the God reference. Nicole grew up in East Germany, where Marx was feted and even had a city named after him. Upon enquiring within the family about the physical appearance of the Almighty, Nicole was fed the classic line about the old man with a beard. Herr Marx was instantly elevated to a status he may or may not have revelled in. You could easily spend hours in Highgate exploring all the minor paths. I decided to pick out the graves on the paper plan that interested me and build them into a circuit. Close to Marx lies Claudia Jones (1915-1964), a Trinidadian journalist and activist. She was deported from the USA in 1955, during the McCarthy era of communist purges. Settling in England, she campaigned on behalf of the African-Caribbean community, a sector of the population that faced regular struggles, some of which persist to the present day (think Windrush).

Many of the high-profile plots are by the main walkways, but I had to weave my way to the ornate gravestone bearing the name David Kirkaldy (18201-1897). This one leapt off the page for obvious reasons. I knew nothing about the man. He achieved fame in the engineering world, pioneering the technique of testing building materials for strength. Kirkaldy played a key role in determining the causes of the 1879 Tay Bridge disaster. Ernestine Rose (1810-1892) was a women's rights and anti-slavery advocate who was inducted into the National Women's Hall of Fame - an American institution founded to honour and recognise outstanding achievement. A famous Highgate literary grave is occupied by Mary Ann Cross (1819-1880), who wrote under the pen name George Eliot. Regarded as one of the leading writers of the Victorian era, she caused a bit of a scandal by living with the married George Henry Lewes as his conjugal partner, reportedly calling him her husband. He remained married to his wife, Agnes Jervis and supported their children, even after Jervis left him to live with another man and have children with him. Eliot then married the much younger John Cross. Ye gods! A long-running hidden-camera TV show in the 80s and 90s was Beadles About - hosted by the self-styled master prankster Jeremy Beadle (1948-2008). Something of a Marmite figure, he nevertheless achieved huge popular success on the small screen. Other hit productions were Game for a Laugh and You've been Framed. I half expected Jeremy to emerge from the bushes behind his book-themed gravestone in his trademark ludicrous disguise. Malcolm McLaren (1946-2010) was a fashion designer who achieved notoriety in the music world by managing the Sex Pistols. The seminal punk band's initial career was short-lived, releasing just one album and a clutch of singles, but McLaren kept the publicity machine running and although a divisive character among fans and rock historians, must be viewed as a major player on the UK punk scene and instrumental to the Pistols climb to fame. Replacing main songwriter with the inept Sid Vicious wasn't a smart move though. McLaren also had chart hits under his own name and at one time ran a boutique with British fashion icon Vivienne Westwood. Several safety pins - an enduring symbol of the punk craze - had been placed on top of McLaren's headstone, which is engraved with the words "better a spectacular failure than a benign success". My final port of call on the east side was flower-adorned grave of Scottish folk guitarist Bert Jansch ( 1943-2011), who enjoyed a lengthy career as a solo artist and member of the band Pentangle. Crossing the road between the two haves of the cemetery, I hiked up the short ascent to the gravestones on the west side and noticed the resting place of Alexander Litvinenko (1962-2006), a Russian defector who was poisoned in a politically-motivated murder. The case attracted huge media attention.

One of Highgate's biggest celebrities of recent times is George Michael, who passed away unexpectedly on Christmas Day 2016, aged just 53. A local resident, he donated generously to community causes and he is buried alongside his mother and sister. A notice from the family politely asks visitors to refrain from taking photographs. The hugely successful musician is buried under his legal name Georgios Panayiotou, which is of Greek extraction. Michael was one half of the teen-pop duo Wham in the 1980s and he progressed to worldwide acclaim as a solo artist. My final stop on the graveyard tour was the resting place of actress Jean Simmons (1929-2010), who appeared in many films, including Spartacus and Great Expectations. So there you have it, a whirlwind circuit of a London burial ground. Highgate is a peaceful oasis full of mature trees and functions as a de facto nature reserve. I had plenty time to make my way back to King's Cross, where I whiled away time in a shaded spot. The hot weather had caused a lineside fire in Darlington, which meant my train was delayed by over half an hour. Thankfully they opened the ticket barriers to let the surge pass through when the service finally rolled in. Once underway, my homeward journey ran smoothly and I met Nicole at Inverkeithing Station. More London walking under my belt. Same place, similar time, next year, I guess.