Barton Upon Humber

Following a week in Norfolk, we spent five night by the River Humber in the Lincolnshire town of Barton. The estuary is spanned here by the mighty Humber Bridge, completed in 1981. Across the water lies Hull - a major maritime city in Yorkshire. We had booked a caravan stay by a lake, within the grounds of a private property on the fringes of Waters' Edge Country Park - a wildlife oasis featuring wetlands, woodlands, and wildflower meadows on land formerly dominated by industry. Our abode for the next few days was a large touring-style caravan. Table and seating at one end, double bed at the other. Cooking facilities and shower in between. The attached awning offered extra storage space.

What about the toilet facilities? The tiny bathroom had a chemical loo that emptied into a removable cassette, accessed from outside - a duty performed daily by our host Barry. It was fine for a piddle but we made use of the local Tesco for more hefty deposits. The van wasn't plumbed in, but drinking and waste water containers were monitored by Barry and his wife. They were a friendly couple who kept poultry and rescue geese/ducks. There was also a group of Guinea fowl who scuttled around together making a curious high-pitched call. Wild Canada geese often wandered by. There was a bucket of feed by the caravan and we were encouraged to use it, which invariably meant you were quickly surrounded by new-found friends. Sometimes a beak even poked into the awning if the zipper wasn't fully pulled down. A very quiet location but just a few minutes drive from town. Our first destination was Spurn Point on the Yorkshire side. This three-mile sand and shingle spit sticks out beyond the Humber Estuary and into the North Sea. The area is environmentally sensitive, constantly shifting shape and battling erosion. A military railway and heavy fortifications were constructed during both World Wars but no fighting occurred here. We bought a bridge pass online that was valid for 10 crossings, verified by number plate recognition cameras. After skirting Hull, we passed through a succession of rural villages before reaching the narrow curving peninsula. The Humber is a key shipping lane and ferries depart for the continent. A large amount of wildlife is supported and the vast mud flats provide rich feeding grounds for wading birds. Eelgrass is one of the few plants capable of flowering in the sea and this habitat is vital for shellfish. The Yorkshire Wildlife Trust helps care for Spurn Point and the £5 parking charge at the Discovery Centre is re-invested in conservation. We purchased drinks at the café and browsed the exhibition. There were a couple of bird hides nearby and we ate our packed lunch while viewing the wading pools. We followed a path to a viewpoint that looked out towards the sea. The tide was well in the distance and large expanses of grassland and sand were exposed. It was a blustery in this exposed position and we soon returned to the interior of the peninsula. The road running out towards the lighthouse at the end of Spurn Point was breached by a tidal surge in 2013 and vehicular access now ceases abruptly at the Discovery Centre. You can continue on foot or by bike but tide times must be checked as the incoming water now creates a temporary island.

We wandered a little bit beyond the road gates before turning back inland and driving a mile and a half to Kilnsea Wetlands. Developed by the Environment Agency, the reserve provides wading birds a place to roost and feed, when leaving the Humber mudflats at high tide in autumn and winter. Offering freshwater and saline pools with islands, wet grassland and seasonal scrapes, Kilnsea has great potential to attract more species as these habitats develop, perhaps encouraging birds like oystercatchers, ringed plovers and lapwings to breed. Local livestock is employed to manage vegetation levels, with the aim of attracting more farmland species such as corn bunting. A large wooden hide overlooked one of the ponds and a local birder furnished us with some useful spotting tips. It was a good first day of our holiday, seeing a new part pf the British coastline and spending time in nature. The next day involved a train trip to York. The ancient walled city has both Roman and Viking origins. Our last visit together had been around 20 years previously and it would be nice to see the historic sights again. Barton has a railway station but it’s a branch terminus that feeds into the Lincolnshire network. The easiest way to reach York was to drive over the Humber Bridge and pick up an express service from Hull at the commuter town of Brough. We had sourced a cheap return deal online and were in York for 10am. The grand Victorian station is situated just outside the city walls and has long been a principal stop on the East Coast Main Line. Additional routes fan out across England’s biggest historic county, and the transport facility was the biggest in the world when it opened in 1877. We walked towards York Minster – the city’s most famous landmark, passing a row of cherry blossom trees and a memorial to the 1832 cholera outbreak. We crossed the River Ouse on Lendal Bridge, right by a medieval tower of the same name. Built circa 1300, the fortification originally formed part of the city’s defence chain. The tower later functioned as a waterworks and now offers luxury holiday accommodation. The Minster is the base of the Archbishop of York – the second highest office within the Church of England. Construction of the present cathedral was completed in 1472. A serious fire occurred in 1984, believed to have been started by a lightning strike. The emergency services deliberately forced the collapse of the south transept to prevent the remainder of the building from destruction. The repair process took four years and cost over £6 million in today’s terms. General admission tickets are £20, and we decided to view the exterior architecture only. A statue of Queen Elizabeth II was embedded within the lower level stonework in 2002.

We wandered through Dean's Park to the rear of the Minster. The Grade-1 listed Treasurer's House is located in this area. Now owned by the National Trust, guided tours are offered five days per week. The gardens are open to the general public, without charge. It's pleasant to explore the narrow streets of the old town. We came across the Merchant Taylors Hall - a medieval guildhall with a stunning timber interior. The red-brick cladding was added to the building around 1700. City trade meetings been continuously held here for over 600 years and the internal space can also be rented for events such as weddings and conferences. We worked our way towards to Shambles - a charming preserved shopping street with quirky timber buildings and a range of independent traders. We soon stepped inside the Fudge Pantry. Large groups of tourists make their way along the slender thoroughfare and several alleyways lead to Shambles Market - open seven days a week. We purchased pies for lunch and found a picnic bench in the city centre. Dessert was a box of truffles we had sourced at Monk Bar Chocolatiers. After more exploring on foot, we bought tickets for a circular bus tour that encompassed some outlying parts of York. The open-top deck upstairs proved to be a great viewing position as we set off from Exhibition Square. An early highlight was Clifford's Tower - the last remaining part of York Castle, northern England’s greatest medieval fortress. It stands on a grassy mound and has looked over the city since 1245. The town walls feature four main gateways and Walmgate Bar is the only one to retain all its security features, including a portcullis and barbican. From our vantage point, we spotted a few of the stone moggies that make up the York Cat Hunt. Over 30 sculptures are dotted around the streets, with many being attached to buildings. The bus cruised by the racecourse, which opened back in 1731. A premier venue for horses, several prestigious events are staged here. We skirted Rowntree Park, a public amenity created as a memorial to the employees of the famous chocolate manufacturer who perished in the First World War. The firm is now part of the Nestle empire but the local factory continues to make old favourites such as Yorkie, KitKat and Milkybar. Another legendary York confectioner was Terry's - known internationally for the Chocolate Orange. We passed the magnificent Art Deco Chocolate Works, opened in 1926. Production ceased here in 2005 and was moved to continental Europe. The derelict industrial site was redeveloped for residential use and the iconic clock tower has been restored to working order. The bus returned to it's starting point. A good way to widen your itinerary for a day visit.

We had a look around the colourful Museum Gardens. They cover a large area and entry is free. The floral beds are spectacular and there is a fine array of mature trees. Contained within the compound are the ruins of St Mary's Abbey - once one of the wealthiest and most powerful Benedictine monasteries in England. The Reformation led to the extensive buildings falling into decay. No visit to York is complete without setting foot on the City Walls. The complete circuit is around two miles and we managed a fair portion of that. The elevated platforms offer a unique view across the surrounding townscape. It began to rain quite heavily and we ducked back down to street level, finding shelter in the Old White Swan pub, which has been serving customers since 1703, making it the city's third oldest watering hole. Now owned by the Nicholson chain, the spacious premises offer a hearty menu and a range of casks ales. I was delighted to see Timothy Taylor Boltmaker on tap. This well-balanced traditional English bitter has long been a favourite of mine. We rested up until the weather improved and then visited a few independent shops. Time was pressing on and we dropped into a Wetherspoons pub near the railway station. It was pizza night and we took advantage of the bargain food offering. Afterwards, we strolled through the historic Micklegate Bar - the most important of York’s medieval entry points, and the focus for grand events. The train took us back to Brough and another urban adventure awaited the following day, at least for me. I wanted to visit Hull but Nicole decided to enjoy a quiet day of birdwatching around Barton instead. A local bus service whisked me over the Humber Bridge and into the big city. The Hull Paragon Interchange combines rail and coach connections on a single integrated site. A fantastic idea! I navigated towards the Museum Quarter, hoping to encounter one of the mysterious white phone boxes along the way.

Brontë Country

Around 12 years ago, Nicole and I travelled to Suffolk to stay with friends. To break up the long journey, we booked a hostel room in the large Yorkshire village of Haworth. We didn't know much about the place but the photos looked nice. After checking in to our digs, we headed out to explore the central area and the toot of a stream locomotive rang out.

I knew instantly what I would be doing that afternoon! The heritage operation to Keighley was in full swing and I purchased a rover ticket and jumped aboard. That left Nicole with the issue of how to fill the remainder of the afternoon. We met up later and I discovered she had chanced upon the Brontë Parsonage Museum, dedicated to the trio of sisters who had set English literature alight with their Victorian-era novels. Their careers burned brightly, but briefly. All three female siblings succumbed to serious illness and passed away between the ages of 29 and 38. Brother Branwell - himself at one time a literary prospect - also died in his 30s. More about him later. The complete family story has even more twists and turns and the tragic saga captivated Nicole. She went on to read several of the Brontë books and watch the various film adaptations. We had of course been aware of titles such as Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre, but the stopover in Haworth prompted a more detailed investigation into this dynasty of classic fiction. We had long talked about a return visit to the village and this year we made it a reality. On the way home from our holiday in Wales, we headed along the M62 - a scenic route through the Pennines - and pulled in at Halifax for two nights. The former mill town has a population of 90,000 and would serve as a useful base. Our Travel Lodge was located within the Dean Clough cultural complex - a former industrial site home to the Crossley Carpet empire. 16 Victorian buildings have been renovated following the closure of the textile works in 1982. The amenities include shops, restaurants, theatre, art gallery, event spaces and co-working facilities. Our 52-room hotel offered the usual Travel Lodge furnishings, which are more than adequate in my opinion. The building was uncomfortably warm inside, due to the long heat wave that had penetrated the thick stone walls. Modern safety regulations don't allow guests to open windows more than a few millimetres. No big duvet required tonight then. We enjoyed a nice dinner in the adjacent Thai restaurant to celebrate our 18th wedding anniversary. Haworth wasn't our destination for the next day (Tuesday) as the Brontë Museum would be closed. Instead we drove early in the morning to Hebden Bridge - a charming market town just eight miles away, situated at the confluence of the River Calder and Hebden Water. Weaving was the main source of employment until the decline of the trade in the 1970s. Then town then took on an alternative new-age feel, following an influx of artists, musicians and writers. We enjoyed breakfast in a local café and Nicole browsed an independent craft shop - just one of many artisan traders in the town centre. We sought out The Book Case, which stocks a wide range of titles. I purchased a book about the UK Postal Paths, formerly used for mail delivery on foot in remote areas before the arrival of reliable road connections. After dropping into the traditional sweet shop, we sat on the river bank by the historic packhorse bridge (built circa 1510) and watched the birds.

Hebden Bridge is an excellent place to while away half a day. In the afternoon, we checked out Hardcastle Crags - a wooded valley leading to the early 19th-century Gibson Mill. The site is maintained by the National Trust and as members we were able to park for free. The walking trail up to the historic mill runs for a mile and a quarter along the Hebden Water. Originally built to spin cotton from raw fibre imported via Liverpool, the finished yarn would then be sold on to local weaving firms. Despite an upgrade to steam power, the business was ultimately unable to compete with the larger city mills and the Gibson family withdrew around 1890. After the turn of the century, the old industrial complex was transformed into an leisure hub for holidaymakers from Halifax and other towns around the Yorkshire and Lancashire. The railway had arrived in Hebden Bridge back in 1840. A restaurant was installed on the top floor and diners diners were treated to a view of the mill pond. Other facilities included a dance hall, roller-skating rink, pleasure boating, tea rooms and an ice cream parlour in one of the cottages. A hydro-electric turbine was soon installed to meet the increasing demand for power. Plans to flood the valley in order to create a new reservoir for Halifax were successfully repelled after a public outcry. Changing holiday habits eventually led to the entertainment emporium closing in 1953, but the National Trust stepped in to preserve the mill buildings and surrounding woodland. Today the complex is a popular local family attraction and I bought a cold drink from the well-patronised café when I arrived. Nicole had opted to remain in the river valley and work on her sketching. I browsed the second-hand bookshop on site and viewed the art exhibition upstairs in the principal mill building. The hydro electric machinery was also on display. From the stone bridge outside, I could look right up the steep gorge and see the source of the original water power. Back in Halifax, we opted for a cheaper dinner than the previous evening, picking up a supermarket meal deal and settling into the spacious hotel room for the night. The plan for tomorrow was to visit Haworth in the morning before heading back home up the M6. Just 12 miles distant, we soon reached the small hilly settlement that produced three of the most revered writers in the English language. The cobbled main street of Howarth is a real throwback to Victorian times and it's not difficult to mentally transport yourself back in time. There are many traditional shops and the vinyl record store added a touch of humour on its signage. The proprietor was listed as T. Venables (no, it's Tony!). Something football fans will understand.

The Brontë Parsonage Museum is situated at a high point in the village. The house was built in 1779 and Patrick Brontë was appointed as the local minister in 1820, arriving with his Cornish wife Maria and their six children. Sadly, Maria died from cancer the following year. Her sister Elizabeth Branwell moved into the parsonage to help raise the five girls and one boy. Patrick passionately believed in education as a means of advancement. He had been born into a poor Irish family but eventually won a scholarship to Cambridge University. The museum route took us through the various rooms used by the family, including the servant quarters. Many of the early writing forays took place in the dining room. Early editions of the sisters' novels were published under the male pseudonyms Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell. At the time, it was difficult for women to secure financial offers and they chose to write in secrecy, although you can see the coded references to the authors' true identities via the initials. Long before earning a living from book sales became a reality, the family was hit by a double tragedy. The eldest girls Maria and Elizabeth passed away at the ages of 11 and 10 respectively. Early death was a fact of life in the 19th century. Infectious diseases were rife and conditions that are easily curable or vaccinated against today took a heavy toll back then. Branwell's bedroom was presented in a chaotic state, befitting the lifestyle of a young man who wrote poetry and painted portraits, while developing a taste for alcohol. Our tour progressed into an extension of the original building, added during the residency of the Reverend John Wade, who succeeded Patrick Brontë. The exhibition here focussed on the life and works of the family members. As the surviving sisters reached adulthood, they worked as governesses, including spells in Belgium. Great things were expected of Branwell as the only son, but he drifted from one job to the next without showing signs of advancement. He was dismissed by the railway for accounting discrepancies and a tutoring career stuttered to a halt after rumours of inappropriate relations with the lady of the house. Anne, Emily and Charlotte eventually won critical acclaim under their own names but a grim fate lay in wait. A few months after the death of the ailing Branwell, by now addicted to alcohol and opium, Emily passed away from tuberculosis in 1848. Anne succumbed to the same affliction the following year, while seeking a sea cure in the coastal resort of Scarborough. Charlotte married in 1854 but was gone just nine months later. She was in the early stages of pregnancy. Patrick lived to the grand old age of 84, having outlived all his children. Charlotte's husband Arthur Bell Nicholls inherited many of the family heirlooms and took them back to his native Ireland. The Parsonage of course belonged to the church authorities. The Brontë Society was formed in 1893 and opened a small museum in Haworth. They hoped to one day acquire the property in which the sisters had lived. This became a reality in 1928, with local businessman Sir James Roberts acquiring the Parsonage and gifting it to the organisation.

The aims of the Society have changed little over the years. They collect, preserve, publish and exhibit material relating to the Brontës' lives and works. People come from all over the world to view the house and tread the cobbled streets of the hillside village that produced literary titans. Their works have been adapted for TV and cinema many times, starting in the era of silent movies. I haven't yet read a Brontë novel but plan to start with Jane Eyre. I did make another purchase in the museum bookshop and was offered the Society stamp inside the front cover. A couple of people ahead of me in the queue actively asked for this endorsement. It must be a known thing within fan circles. Afterwards we visited the adjacent church, where the Brontë family vault is situated beneath an internal pillar. Anne is not present, as Charlotte arranged for a burial in Scarborough to save their father - by this time an elderly man - the stress of attending yet another funeral in quick succession. We popped into the Black Bull - Branwell's old drinking haunt, but there was a lengthy waiting time for food and we decamped to a café further down the main street. I would advise anyone with an interest in fiction, or for that matter any type of literature, to spend a few hours in Haworth. Hell, even if you just know the Kate Bush song, just go. Don't expect the ghost of Branwell to lurch around the corner, but the whole place is steeped in the history of the written word.

London 2026

My fifth consecutive summer trip to the UK capital was destined to be a hot one. All the temperature records were being broken and I had a full programme of walks planned. I decided to approach with a degree of caution and rework the plan if necessary. Getting down there has become something of a well-oiled machine. I opted for the West Coast Main Line both ways and had to use the side entrance at Glasgow Central as the main gateway was still cordoned off following a serious fire in Gordon Street. A terrier sculpture stood on the concourse, part of an art trail called Scotties in the City. The dogs were recently auctioned off and collectively raised almost half a million pounds for charity. I arrived at Euston early evening on a Monday and the heat was palpable. I had booked my usual berth at the Walrus Hostel near Waterloo for five nights and I strolled leisurely towards the River Thames, pulling in for a quick pint at the Montagu Pyke - a large Wetherspoons pub on Charing Cross Road. I didn't realise it at the time, but I was sitting in a former London rock music institution.

The Marquee Club ran from 1958 to 1995 in three different venues. The final seven years worth of shows were held in the former cinema where I sipped my beer. A huge number of well-known acts played the Marquee at some point in their career. My first planned activity the following day was a wander round to the Imperial War Museum. I had done the full gallery circuit a couple of years ago and today's intention was to browse Beauty and Destruction - the special art exhibition depicting London life during WW2. Entry was free and the 50 assembled paintings featured wartime themes such as loss, displacement, overcrowding and shortages. Artists were commissioned by the government to document how the conflict transformed the city and its inhabitants. A large proportion of the works included in the exhibition came directly from this scheme. Bombs rained down on London and the aggressive campaign between September 1940 and May 1941 became known as the Blitz. It was regarded as essential to keep the city moving in order to show the world that Britain was not broken. Tethered barrage balloons forced enemy aircraft to fly at higher altitudes, thereby reducing the accuracy of the firepower. The blue ribbon of the Thames provided a handy wander source for extinguishing fires but the river also acted as a navigational aid to incoming fighters, offering a clear moonlit path through central parts of the city when the blackout was in force. Flying bombs were a major hazard in 1944, with around 100 of these missiles arriving every day. A national fire-fighting force had been founded three years earlier. Despite all the defensive efforts, entire streets were reduced to rubble and over a million homes severely damaged or destroyed. The deep tube tunnels provided vital overnight protection for citizens, while unfinished extensions to the underground network housed factories producing vital communications equipment. It was a thought-provoking display of artwork and I walked back to Waterloo Station to catch a train to Brentford - a West London suburban town on the River Thames. A six-mile saunter along the Grand Union Canal was scheduled for the afternoon, but first I wanted to call at Syon Park - a riverside estate that is the London residence of the Duke of Northumberland. A ticket to visit the grounds cost £8 and I figured it would be an excellent place to enjoy an alfresco lunch. I picked up a meal deal on Brentford High Street and wandered down.

The path to the gardens skirted a vast expanse of lawn in front of Syon House - a Grad listed mansion. The vastly wealthy Northumberland dynasty (family name Percy) has owned the property since 1594 and the current interior was designed by Robert Adam in 1762. Alnwick Castle is the Percy ancestral seat up north. Public viewing of the house has been available since 1951 but today I was content to visit the grounds. My admission included access to the Great Conservatory (pictured above). The parkland was laid out by Capability Brown in the 18th century. Exotic trees and shrubs began to arrive from North America and many of these introductions still flourish today. New discoveries from the Himalayas and China were subsequently added to the collection. The third duke commissioned the construction of the Great Conservatory to house his exotic range of plants. Completed in 1830, it was the first building of its type to be constructed from metal and glass on a large scale. Unsurprisingly, a Grade-1 listing applies here as well. After a relaxing lunch on a shaded bench, I made my way inside the spectacular structure. Flooded with natural light, the interior contains water features and a variety of flora, including giant cacti. I gazed up at the glass dome, some 40 feet in diameter. The conservatory can be hired for weddings and corporate events, with space for 160 seated guests. The working estate has a restaurant, café, garden centre and farm shop. Syon had been a lovely stopover but it was time to commence my main walk. Brentford is the place where the Grand Union Canal meets the tidal River Thames, with sea access beyond. An industrial dock complex existed here until 1964 and the site is now occupied by a pleasure marina and housing development. I picked up the towpath and my trek was underway. Navigation would be straightforward enough; follow the watercourse for six and a half miles to the town of Hayes, where I could catch a train back to the middle of London on the showpiece Elizabeth Line. The Grand Union Canal has existed in its current form since 1929. It forks to serve the major cities of Birmingham and Leicester in the Midlands. Numerous arms branch off to other settlements along the way. I walked at a modest pace, taking care not to overdo things in the heat. I passed under the roaring M4 and then met the "Three Bridges" transport crossing (and now a Scheduled Monument), designed by Isambard Kingdom Brunel no less! It was the great man's final engineering project and involves a road bridge over the canal, which itself straddles a railway cutting containing the old branch line to Brentford Docks. The track is still used to carry material to a waste management facility. Another notable landmark was the high-security southern boundary wall of St Bernard's Hospital - which originally opened in 1831 as the first Middlesex County Asylum. The massive compound contained market gardens and any excess produce was shipped out by barge. Modern medical facilities are still provided on site. The Hanwell Locks stand by the wall and seven consecutive chambers form a staircase. It is a picturesque area with vintage lock keepers cottages and cobbled stone ramps to help horses climb out of the canal if they accidentally fell in (which occasionally did happen).

I pushed on in stifling conditions and sipped on warm water from my flask. Completely unappetising but it keeps you going. Eventually I reached the intersection with the Paddington Arm. This 13-mile branch runs into Central London and joins the Regent's Canal at Little Venice Basin. The town of Hayes was in sight and I was soon walking along the bustling main street. I was still within the political boundaries of Greater London but Hayes has a distinct character of its own, as a historic settlement within Middlesex. The local canal and railway links ensured that Hayes grew rapidly during the Industrial Revolution. The current population is just short of 100,000. I sought out the Botwell Inn - a Wetherspoon pub situated within a former furniture showroom. I cooled off with a couple of large Pepsis and had a couple of ales once my hydration levels had been restored. There was excitement brewing among sports fans as Egypt were on the brink of knocking the mighty Argentina out of the World Cup, until two late goals changed the course of the game. Hayes & Harrington Station sits on the newly-styled Elizabeth Line, a project known as Crossrail during its development. As the name suggests, Crossrail facilitates efficient travel through London, which was a long-standing issue in the past. The Victorian main lines built to serve the capital terminated at a ring of stations around the central core. The key to the new infrastructure is a 13-mile tunnelled section fed by existing (and improved) tracks from the west and east. I was whisked back to Tottenham Court Road for less than four quid, as standard London tariffs apply. Off-peak in my case. Ten completely new stations were constructed for Crossrail and the spacious Tottenham Court Road facility is completely integrated with the traditional underground routes. I was hugely impressed with my maiden trip on the Elizabeth Line and hope to use it again as part of my walking programme. On the way back to the hostel, I noticed a monument on Whitehall, dedicated to the women who contributed in various ways to the WW2 effort. I found it hard to believe I hadn't noticed the sculpture before, proving that London always has a surprise up its sleeve. I paused at the security fencing on Downing Street, hoping to catch a glimpse of Larry the Cat, but he was nowhere to be seen. Now a national legend, Larry is aged 19 and still carrying out his pest control duties.

I started the next day with a visit to the Tate Modern. An easy stroll along the south bank of the Thames, I arrived just after 10am for the Tracey Emin exhibition. I had done all the free galleries last year and today I proceeded directly to the ticketed event. A Second Life traces 40 years of Emin’s ground-breaking practice, showcasing career defining sensations alongside works never exhibited before. Through painting, video, textiles, writing, sculpture, and installation, Emin continues to challenge boundaries, using the female body as a powerful tool to explore passion, pain, and healing. A sign at the entrance reminded visitors that themes such as abortion, self-harm and rape would be explored. Emin grew up in the Kent seaside town of Margate, being made an honorary freewoman in 2022. A Damehood followed two years later. She is highly decorated as an artist and was elected to the Royal Academy in 2007. Her iconic 90s installation My Bed catapulted Emin into the public eye. The raw artwork would feature towards the end of today's exhibition. The first gallery featured video material and quilted blankets, detailing Emin's troubled teenage years in Margate. She dropped out of school at 13 and was raped around this time. Her mixed racial heritage often brought unwanted attention. I liked the roller coaster sculpture (pictured above), made from reclaimed wood and metal, symbolising the highs and lows of life. The paintings on display pulled no punches and were definitely on the gory side, with lashings of blood and strong hints at physical, sexual and substance abuse. Emin became seriously ill after a botched abortion and discussed this openly in another video exhibit. Artwork related to this procedure included an A to Z tapestry. A sense of hope grows as you move through the second half of the exhibition, as the material focuses on recovery and recognition - which mirrors Emin's climb to the pinnacle of the contemporary art scene, following all the early setbacks. A challenging but ultimately rewarding viewing experience. I needed a quiet seat afterwards. The best known exhibit of course had been My Bed and it was an impressively chaotic sight. Created in 1998, the artwork was shortlisted for the prestigious Turner Prize. Although it didn't win the award, Emin became widely known in the media as the public lapped up the image of messy sheets surrounded by detritus. It was allegedly inspired by a sexually intensive yet depressive phase in Emin's life, staying in bed for four days and consuming only alcohol.

As expected, the exhibit was surrounded by a trip-wire alarm. A little boy stepped over it and triggered the warning buzzer. His mum quickly bundled him out the gallery but I couldn't help thinking it would have been more fun to see the lad bounce up and down on the mattress. Back outside, I crossed the Thames on the Millennium Bridge and walked up the hill to St Paul's Cathedral, where I caught a tube train to Bethnal Green - a lively area within the East-End Borough of Tower Hamlets. I bought lunch from a bakery and wandered into Victoria Park, opened to the public in 1845 and one of London's most visited green spaces. I wanted to check out the Chinese Pagoda that stands upon an island in the lake. I crossed the connecting footbridge and ate by the oriental structure, actually a replica of the war-damaged original. The new building was erected in 2012 to the same dimensions as the old. It stands just over 12 metres tall and contains two floors. Gold-painted dragons sit at the corners of both zinc roofs. The artificial island was re-established during the renovation programme and the rustic bridge on the north side replaced. I observed a moorhen in the water take her chicks out for a swim. The park is bounded by two canals - the Regent's and Hertford Union. I proceeded along the latter towards Olympic Park. The Hertford Union is just over a mile long and was opened in 1830 to provide a link between the Regent's Canal and the navigable stretch of the River Lea (a tributary of the Thames). I wanted to explore the infrastructure and parkland created for the 2012 Olympic Games, staged here in London. The tournament was a great success and we even saw the symbolic flaming torch pass through our home village in the run-up to the event. From the outset, there was intended to be a long-term use for the sporting venues constructed as part of the Queen Elizabeth London Olympic Park. I enjoyed the short canal walk and caught glimpses of the main athletics stadium over to my right. When I reached the intersection with the navigable River Lea, I climbed up to street level and walked into the Olympic zone. My plan was to scout out a few landmarks before making my way back to the Thames via local river footpaths and the Limehouse Cut. I passed the squat form of the Copper Box Arena - used for handball and fencing during the Games. It now functions as a multi-sport with a 7000 seating capacity. The professional basketball outfit London Lions plays here, as does the Netball Super League side London Pulse.

Other sports to feature here include badminton, boxing and table tennis. I branched into a green section of parkland and found the London Blossom Garden. There are 33 trees, each representing a London Borough, plus the City of London authority. Species include plum, cherry, crab apple and hawthorn. There are areas of flower beds and open lawn. The banking is planted with daffodils, resulting in a riot of colour in springtime. The garden also serves as a memorial to the London victims of the Covid pandemic. Moving on, the sculpture of the five interlocking Olympic rings stands on a grassy mound. I could see the sweeping elliptical curves of the velodrome across the road at the northern end of Olympic Park. The indoor facility was the first new venue to be completed for the Games. It seats 6000 spectators and there is a 360-degree concourse level providing views across the surrounding green space. An outdoor BMX track also forms part of the cycling complex. A number of international events have been held in recent years, including the track cycling competitions for the 2022 Commonwealth Games. I plotted a course south, towards the Aquatics Centre - the pool where swimmer Michael Phelps became the most decorated Olympian of all time. The facility has two full-sized pools and a separate diving pool. Temporary seating wings attached to the building raised the viewing capacity to 17000 during the Olympics but the venue now seats 2800 spectators. The public are able to use the facilities and admission prices are in line with regular leisure centres. Nearby is Stratford Railway Station, a major interchange with where standard overground rail intersects with tube services, the Docklands Light Railway and the Elizabeth Line. Stratford is Britain's seventh busiest station and most-patronised transport hub outside of Fare Zone 1 in the capital. Many shops and leisure outlets are to be found in this area, all part of the major Stratford City development, which was built in conjunction with the Olympic project. Large parts of the Lower Lea Valley had fallen in dereliction following industrial decline and social regeneration was always a key driver behind the proposal to bring the Games to the East End of London. I walked beside Waterworks River - an artificial channel cut from the Lea - and looked across to the hulking London Stadium. The giant bowl hosted the main athletics action and is now the home ground of West Ham Football Club, who moved here in 2016 as the anchor tenant. Championship track and field events are still scheduled and the venue also hosts major rock and pop shows.

I had planned a Wetherspoons stop in Stratford town centre and I wandered along to Goldengrove, part of the chain since 1995. I seriously considered cutting my itinerary short and heading back to Waterloo on the underground. My energy levels had been sapped by the high temperature. However, the restorative power of cold soft drinks brought me back to life and I felt ready to tackle the Limehouse Cut. I re-joined the watercourse and soon found myself admiring the architecture at Three Mills - now a pair of historic industrial buildings on a tidal section of the River Lea. Clock Mill can be seen in the foreground above. It currently houses a school. To the rear is House Mill - open periodically for heritage tours. The Grade-1 listed building also hosts exhibitions and concerts. Commercial milling ceased in 1952 and 1940 respectively. I switched to the Limehouse Cut - a dead straight canal built to provide easier access between the Lea and the Thames. Opened in 1770, the polluting industry of old has given way to pleasure boating in modern times. The Cut forms part of a 6-mile loop encompassing the Lea Navigation along with the Regent's and Hertford Union canals. I closed this particular circle today, having done the Regent's Canal leg two years previously. I arrived at Limehouse Basin - formerly a trans-shipment dock that closed in 1969, but was redeveloped as the Millennium approached. The Docklands Light Railway station was just a few streets away and I travelled to Bank, where I hopped on the curious Waterloo & City Line - an underground shuttle between the financial district and the Waterloo interchange with no intermediate stops. Day Three was dedicated to the River Thames. My upstream exploration over the years had taken me as far as Windsor. I returned to Berkshire on a regional service from Waterloo and I had six miles ahead of me on the Thames Path. Today's destination was Maidenhead - a large market town with a population of over 60,000. After alighting at Windsor Riverside, I crossed the Thames on the historic iron arched bridge which brought me into Eton, Buckinghamshire. Today's walk would take place along the north bank and I began at The Brocas - a large public meadow with numerous footpaths.

I passed under the 1849 Brunel drawstring wrought iron bridge that brings the other railway line into Windsor, terminating at Central Station. The brick arches of the lengthy approach viaduct blend in fabulously with the surrounding landscape. Once again, the weather was very sunny and I was delighted to find a good amount of tree shade on the rural sections of the path. The official walking route ran through a 160-yard stretch of private gardens. Cyclists were requests to take a detour around this stretch. Across the water, I saw the green expanse of Windsor Racecourse. Meetings have been staged here since 1866, although the local area has connections to horse racing dating back to Tudor times. On my side of the river, Dorney Lake sits at a higher level. Completed in 2006, this man-made rowing venue follows a straight course and was used in the Olympic Games. I declined the chance to go for a look, being perfectly content to follow the shaded Thames Path. Another landmark that caught my eye was Oakley Court Hotel on the far bank. It's hard to miss the striking Gothic-style architecture and the site has featured in over 200 films, mainly horror and mystery, including a teenage favourite of mine, Murder by Death. The former country pile fell into ruin in the 1970s and was converted to the present luxury hotel at the turn of the next decade. Guests can unwind in 35 acres of private grounds. I continued all the way to Maidenhead, passing under the Elizabeth line as I approached the town boundary. The low red-brick viaduct (pictured above) is another Brunel design, opening for business in 1839. I could have taken this route back to London but it made more economic sense to purchase a day return to Windsor Riverside and catch a local bus back to this point after completing my walk. The High Street was still three quarters of a mile away and I finally pitched up at Wetherspoons for a late lunch. The Bear is a former coaching inn and I rested my legs in the large cool interior. I spent a couple of hours enjoying the relaxed atmosphere before heading out to the nearest bus stop. It was now around 4.30pm and the heat smacked me in the face. The BBC Weather app informed me that 34 degrees was expected at this particular time. Regional bus fares in England are pegged at £3 per single trip (can we please have this arrangement in Scotland?) and I was back in Windsor half an hour later. Another successful (but wearying) day on foot. My final planned walk of the week was the longest of them all, and involved trekking across open marshland by the Thames estuary. I opted out of this one and instead formulated a shorter expedition in the comfort of my hostel bunk. The Greenway is a four-mile walkway in the East End of London, running mostly on top of an embankment that covers the Northern Outfall Sewer line. This vital piece of civil engineering was designed by Joseph Bazalgette in the wake of a major cholera outbreak in the 1850s. The new pipeline transported sewage beyond the downstream city limits, whereupon it was simply dumped into the widening Thames. But it meant that incidents such as the "Great Stink" of 1858 no longer plagued London dwellers. I decided this would make a nice alternative wander and one I could complete at a leisurely pace.

I travelled on the Docklands Light Railway to its eastern terminus at Beckton. A large sewage treatment plant has been situated here since 1864. The gasworks were the largest in Europe until their closure in 1976, following nationwide adoption of North Sea gas. Part of the derelict railway system was later incorporated in to the DLR. I picked up the Greenway trail and ambled along the wide tarmac path. The route is popular with both cyclists and walkers. It runs all the way to Stratford and finishes near the London Stadium. Fate was to conspire against me today as engineering works halted my progress after a couple of miles. My only option was to divert via the streets of Plaistow - a bustling district with many small businesses. You have to take these obstacles on the chin and at least I got to experience a vibrant community with a working-class feel. I navigated towards the centre of Stratford and returned to the same Wetherspoons pub for a few refreshments, followed by a bite to eat in McDonald's. My latest walking tour of London and surrounding areas was over. I had battled through the heat and largely succeeded. More loose ends to pick up next year. My train home was due around lunchtime on Saturday. I browsed a couple of bookstores and made my way to Euston Station. The journey to Glasgow was smooth but the connecting bus to Fife was routed away from my home village due to a road closure in Dunfermline. Rather than double back, I got off early in Kincardine and Nicole collected me. We took a Chinese meal back home. I had certainly earned that!