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  • Writer: Walking With Brian
    Walking With Brian
  • Jun 29, 2022
  • 45 min read

Updated: Sep 23, 2022

It all started when I read a glowing review of the Stonehenge exhibition at the British Museum in London. I checked the website and discovered the event ran until the middle of July, which meant I could feasibly nip down at the beginning of my summer holidays. Of course, I then started thinking it would be silly to travel all that way to visit just one museum, particularly when London boasts some of the finest free collections in the world. At some point, the idea of combining a cultural fix with some serious city walking began to form. The Thames Path was the obvious option, running for many miles through the municipal boundaries of the English capital. With Nicole already on an extended break in Germany, I decided to spend a few days down south before flying out to join her.


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I booked my train journey for Monday, 4th July and a flight from Stanstead to Berlin on Saturday 9th. It made logistical and financial sense to go directly from London to Germany. That sorted, I began to work on my itinerary. After several revisions, I whittled down the basic plan to 5-6 miles of daily walking from Tuesday to Friday with a museum schedule moulded around that. Of course, I needed accommodation and I plumped for a hostel dormitory in order to keep room costs down and give me the option of cooking my own food in the evenings. At first sight, a plethora of options presented themselves but closer inspection revealed that many hostels have an upper-age limit, typically between 35 and 45. I'm now on the wrong side of these milestones but I found a suitable place near Waterloo Station that welcomed all. The location was perfect as I was right on the river and only minimal use of the tube would be required. All the museums on my list offered free entry and were close to the Thames Path. The special Stonehenge exhibition cost £20 and I purchased a time slot online, meaning the only money I needed to take with me would be for day to day essentials and the odd treat. I organised my schedule so I could visit the museums as I encountered them, rather than having to backtrack. This was shaping up to be an interesting excursion. The Thames Path National Trail runs a mammoth 185 miles from the source in the Cotswolds to the estuary on the other side of London. Officially, the walking route ends at the flood barrier near Woolwich. It's possible to continue for another 10 miles downstream towards the salt marshes at Dartford but I crossed the extension off the list as I didn't want to stray too far from the heart of the city and I didn't intend upon doing any lengthy individual legs. That approach was fine last year when I walked through rural Aberdeenshire and the trail itself was almost the sole focus of the expedition. But in London, walking was only one aspect.


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The flood barrier seemed a good place to finish (or rather, the centre of Woolwich just a little further on) but a starting point also had to be chosen. I opted for Putney Bridge, six miles from my hostel. That was the first stage sorted, a tube train out and a leisurely wander back via Battersea Park. I'll detail the other daily routes during the course of this report. Departure day rolled around and I caught a bus to Edinburgh, where I would connect with my Lumo train service to London King's Cross. An open-access operator utilising spare train paths, Lumo runs passenger services on the East Coast Main Line between the Scottish and English capitals - stopping only at Morpeth, Newcastle and Stevenage. Advance paperless tickets (with seat reservation) are sold via the website or app and are valid only for Lumo trains - a fact announced several times before departure. The berth next to mine was marked as reserved but nobody showed, meaning I could spread myself out and enjoy the journey. The countryside slipped by as I listened to podcasts and read my magazine. For amusement, I switched on Google Maps and zoomed in to watch the location indicator travel along the course of the railway. I noticed the train was about to reach the Edinburgh to London halfway marker, so I looked out the window and caught a glimpse of the sign as we flashed past. Those satellites must do a good job of determining one's exact position. I reached King's Cross in the middle of the afternoon and the place had changed somewhat since my last visit in 2004. The lengthy 1852 train shed is still intact but the 1970's extension (which obscured the original frontage of the station) has been demolished and replaced with an open-air plaza. To the side, a beautifully glazed departures hall has been created. The development is a perfect example of old and new existing in harmony. The massive digital information board is certainly easy to read but I missed the whir and clatter of the old analogue machine as the train details were refreshed. Before leaving the station, I had one mission to complete. Nicole's nephew Jonas is a big Harry Potter fan and I popped along to the official merchandise shop in search of a small gift. Situated next to the fabled Platform nine and three quarters, the store was rammed and every conceivable language could be heard. Truly an international phenomenon is the young wizard. A luggage trolley was half embedded into the wall beside the secret platform and a snaking queue of people waited for the opportunity to recreate the famous scene and have their picture taken.


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I found a Harry Potter badge for around a fiver and made a mental note to buy a London-related item of similar value for the younger nephew, Elias. (I later picked up a model red bus). The water dispenser at King's Cross was out of order so I headed along to Euston to refill my bottle. The two busy stations are just a short distance apart and I was going in that direction anyway. A week of warm weather was forecast and I had researched the locations of free water points in advance. From here, I made my way down to Trafalgar Square, passing through Soho where I spotted the iconic Ronnie Scott's jazz club. I also had a wander through bustling Chinatown before arriving at the unmistakable Nelson's Column in the heart of Trafalgar Square, surrounded by elaborate fountains. Several famous London streets converge here and I sat on the steps, eating a sandwich while plotting my next move. My accommodation was in Lambeth on the other side of the river across Westminster Bridge and I decided have a look at the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben and Westminster Abbey, which were all on my route. I would leave Buckingham Palace until the next morning. Regarding my blog posts, I normally give a bit of background history to any noteworthy sights I encounter. Due to the central London landmarks being so well known - and the sheer number of them - I don't intend to regurgitate paragraphs of facts and figures, but simply mention the things I saw, and perhaps put some flesh on the bones of the more obscure locations. The London Eye was added to the aforementioned itinerary as it stands right by Westminster Bridge. I also discovered Jewel Tower - a surviving part of the 14th-century Palace of Westminster. Daylight was dimming as I crossed the Thames and I thought of the classic Kinks song Waterloo Sunset - written by frontman Ray Davies. Often cited as one of the most evocative popular tunes of all time, it suddenly made sense to me as I gazed up and down the river. My hostel was just a short walk away, next to a railway bridge leading to Waterloo Station. I had already checked in electronically and was texted the relevant codes for the main door and my room, although I did have to collect my towel from the bar on the ground floor of the building. I was in a 6-bed mixed dorm and the bunks were clean and comfortable. The window was kept wide open and a powerful fan circulated air - keeping the atmosphere bearable. From my top berth I could look down upon the throat of Waterloo Station - effectively giving me a grandstand seat from which to view the action. Trains squeaked as they passed by, probably meaning the tracks were on a tight curve. I was to discover the following morning that services began at 5am promptly, although on subsequent days I barely noticed the noise.


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A Co-op and Sainsbury Local were situated just yards away and my plan was to use the tiny hostel kitchen to prepare breakfast and dinner, while treating myself to a nice lunch while on the move. Water flask filled with glorious London tap water, I set out for my first day's exploring. I had booked a 10am entry slot for the British Museum and I strolled across Westminster Bridge towards Parliament, noting the massive County Hall on my side of the river, a nod to the days when London was governed by one council (the GLC), as opposed to the 32 boroughs in place today. Of course, this complex administrative structure is super-imposed upon the historic counties and the Thames is the traditional dividing line between Middlesex and Surrey, which is why the famous cricket grounds of Lords and the Oval are on opposing banks. I passed the statue of Winston Churchill and bore left along Birdcage Walk - a leafy street bordering St James's Park en route to Buckingham Palace. I stood on the plinth of the Queen Victoria memorial, hoping to photograph the palace gates without people standing in the way, but I gave up and shot the Queen's residence from a wider angle. I then wandered up The Mall - the famous tree-lined road leading back to Whitehall and Trafalgar Square. I pushed up Charing Cross Road, once home to an array of bookshops, offering both new and second-hand titles. I recalled from my 2001 visit there were even themed stores, such as crime fiction and women's literature. Much of the trade has declined in the 21st century, although the mighty Foyles still stands as a bastion of independent trading, or it did until 2018 when the Waterstones chain took control. I arrived at the British Museum ten minutes before opening time and a large queue was already forming. Fortunately, my reservation for the Stonehenge Exhibition allowed me to be fast-tracked inside. All bags were scanned at the entrance and I was carrying just a light rucksack with just my water bottle and iPad (it is not recommended to leave valuable devices in hostel rooms). I must admit my first ever visit to the British Museum wasn't quite what I had expected. I had envisaged a larger version of the National Museum of Scotland in Edinburgh - showcasing a wide selection of fields such as science, natural history and ancient history. It transpired that if you wanted to experience those first two disciplines in London, you went to an entire (and massive) museum dedicated to the subject. Here in the British Museum, we are dealing mainly with old artefacts. The central space is known as the Great Court. Modernised for the millennium, the site covers two acres and is enclosed by a spectacular glass roof consisting of over 3000 panels, no two of which are identical. The world famous reading room is located in the middle rotunda. Completed in 1857, this architectural gem and esteemed centre of learning was retained as the wider Museum library department relocated to St Pancras - thus freeing up the Great Court for general public access.


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It is indeed strolling a rewarding experience strolling round the light and airy enclosure, although it would be nice to soak up the atmosphere at a quieter time of year with fewer people milling around. I located the entry point for the Stonehenge exhibition and made my way into the dimly-lit galleries. I wasn't quite sure what to expect as I hadn't read any visitor reviews. Perhaps naturally, I had assumed the iconic stone circle would be the centrepiece of the the exhibition and had wondered if a scaled-down replica would be on display. As I soon discovered, the theme of the story was the lives and beliefs of the people and the materials they produced during the era when the physical Stonehenge was at the height of its significance as a religious landmark. The sun plays an important role in the chronology of the exhibition and the glass cases are initially stuffed with stone axes, giving way to metalworking as knowledge and skills progressed. I've long known that lighting level is a vital part of establishing the mood in the fields of film and photography. I hadn't previously considered just how effective the concept could be in a museum gallery and the shimmering bronze objects were a sight to behold. The tale of course had to be told through the artefacts left behind as the people kept no written records. The lack of literacy often causes this period of history to be labelled as "primitive" but the level of craftsmanship on display was simply stunning. In equal parts awesome and puzzling, Stonehenge was erected between 3500 and 5000 years ago and the exhibition aims to to explore the world that made the ever-changing mystery possible. The objects chart the fundamental changes in people's relationships with the sky, land and each other. The surrounding landscape was gradually altered over two millennia, reflecting the shifting ideas and identities of of communities far and wide.


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The old monolithic circle may not be present but the exhibition does feature Seahenge. This monument is made of wood and had to be removed from its Norfolk coastal home for preservation. Gnarled wooden columns stand in the twilight. You go up to the semicircle and stare closer into the ridged brown surfaces. Maybe you glimpse a face, an eye, a shadowy form. You know these are not just old fence posts but the embodiment of ancient powers whose names we have forgotten. Seahenge is the physical and emotional heart of the British Museum’s moving journey to the lost world of European prehistory. It was erected by the shore around 2049 BC (according to tree ring analysis), roughly 500 years after the main construction of Stonehenge. It brings the outdoors inside, and holds you mystified. At least 50 bronze axes felled oak trees to construct this place of communal worship. The posts were tightly spaced in a ring with the bark facing outwards, thereby creating the form of a giant tree. A narrow entrance was aligned on the rising midsummer sun. Inside the circle stood a mighty oak, its roots turned towards the heavens like branches. Inversion of the everyday world created a spectacular sight with the secret confines of the structure, perhaps bringing onlookers closer to the otherworld. Stonehenge came into being as agriculture replaced traditional hunting and gathering. Britain was now an island, cut off from mainland Europe by the rising waters. With crops to protect and livestock to feed, the concepts of ownership, labour and time were altered. Giant monuments acted as anchors, allowing communities to stake claim to sacred places. Remarkable objects of stone, wood and clay symbolised the new relationship between humans and nature.


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The exhibition also featured items from the Orkneys - a place of cultural innovation around 5500 years ago. Its outstanding tomb and settlement architecture rank among the most impressive remains from ancient Europe. Ground-breaking finds have recently been unearthed across the chain of islands and some were on public display for the first time. The introduction of metal around 4500 years ago provided the means of translating the cosmological beliefs enshrined within Stonehenge, Seahenge and other monuments into a range of portable items. Gold was turned into jewellery and cult objects, imbuing wearers with the power of the sun, intended to ensure sustenance and wellbeing across the cycle of the seasons. This marked a significant departure from fixed places of worship where the sun was observed at precisely prescribed times of the year. Artefacts could now be held or worn to express a close, personal relationship with higher powers. Burying the dead with valued objects on sacred land became the dominant way of showing spiritual respect across the country. Indeed, many burial mounds were in evidence at Stonehenge itself. The objects that mourners selected for the grave prepared souls for life beyond the known world and were markers of personal identity, ethnicity and success. They also represented hopes, desires, failed ambitions and long distance pilgrimages. New scientific studies enable us to trace the stories, genetic connections and movements of people through time, as they became established lineages. Rows of resting places were physical manifestations of family trees.


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The great acts of building and reimagining that had characterised Stonehenge ceased as offerings of metal valuables became the most popular method of linking to spirits and gods in the natural world. The monument may have fallen into disrepair as expressions of cultural and religious authority began to shift. The enduring influence of the Stonehenge landscape was threatened by new sources of energy. Circa 1500 BC, the influence of the ancient stone circle was on the wane. People on the south coast sought social and political alliances in continental Europe, which was now recognised as an important source of bronze. As these connections firmed up, metal and exotic goods began to flow across the seas. This challenged older beliefs and the role of the mighty Stonehenge. By 800 BC, the world had moved on. Stone circles still used around the British Isles no longer attracted mass gatherings. This decline occurred as climatic and environmental change undermined social and economic confidence. The result was the end of the era charted by the exhibition. I had found the experience totally absorbing and immersive. Leaving the special galleries and stepping back into the Great Court was a bit like coming out of the cinema in the middle of the day. I was glad I'd made the effort to see the exhibition. Excellent value for money. By now the museum was thronging with people and I must have spent over two hours in the Stonehenge area. I had nothing like the amount of time required to do the rest of the museum justice and I decided to seek out a dozen highlights. Off the top of my head, I came up with the Rosetta Stone and the Elgin Marbles. I googled for further suggestions, consulted the floor plan and formulated a quick tour. The Rosetta Stone was just off the Great Court and I made this my first port of call. I had seen the hieroglyphic engravings 20 years previously and recalled a swarm of people around the display case. The scene was more or less identical today, except Smartphones were now thrust into the mix. The Rosetta is surviving fragment of a larger stone slab and the inscriptions helped decipher the ancient Egyptian script, as corresponding text is also shown in other languages. The stone was discovered in 1799 by soldiers of Napoleon's invading army at the town of Rosetta. It's linguistic importance was immediately recognised but when the French troops were defeated, the stone was surrendered to the British as part of the Treaty of Alexandria in 1801, entering the British Museum collection the following year.


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Taking more than a functional photo of the stone was impossible as the glass case simply reflected the faces of the numerous onlookers, which isn't really a look suitable for publication. I moved on to inspect the Elgin Marbles, also known as the Parthenon Marbles - a collection of classical Greek sculptures. They are original parts of the ancient Parthenon Temple whose construction was completed in 432 BC. The acquisition of the marbles has long been a bone of contention between the British and Greek governments. Between 1801 and 1812, half of the surviving Parthenon artwork was removed from the site by agents acting on behalf of Thomas Bruce, 7th Earl of Elgin. Greece was at the time ruled by the Ottoman Empire and it has been argued that a legal document permitting Bruce to ship the marbles to the UK has never been found in the extensive archives. The Acropolis Museum in Athens displays a portion of the complete frieze, aligned in orientation and within sight of the Parthenon, with the position of the missing elements clearly marked and space left should they be returned to the Greek capital. In 2021, UNESCO issued a decision on the Parthenon Marbles, calling for the United Kingdom to return them to Greece. We shall await the next development. Another popular highlight of the museum is the Lewis Chessmen. I had seen some of these walrus ivory figures in Edinburgh some years ago. Discovered in 1831 in a sand bank on the Isle of Lewis, the set consists of 93 pieces, 78 of which are chessmen and the rest large counters for an unspecified game. Earlier medieval chess sets tended to combine red and plain ivory, unlike the familiar black and white colour scheme of today. Eleven of the chessmen are kept at the National Museum of Scotland in Edinburgh with the remainder right here in London. I continued picking off the well-known museum displays, such as the statue of Crouching Venus (pictured below). The marble copy of an original Greek sculpture of Aphrodite surprised at her bath is today called the “Crouching Venus” and this example dates from around 100 AD. I also wandered through a room full of stunning African art and elsewhere I encountered a quirky creation with a powerful message. The "Tree of Life" had been assembled in Mozambique from assorted surrendered weapons. The former Portuguese colony had suffered years of civil strife after independence and became something of a political pawn during the Cold War. Residents were encouraged to swap their guns for more productive objects and the arms were cut up and refashioned into artwork.


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I also came across a little exhibition about the declining use of cash transactions, something I was to personally encounter during my time in London, even in the market halls. It was now after 2pm and time to think about lunch. I decided to have a sit-down meal in the Charing Cross Road McDonald's before checking out Foyles bookstore. Fed and watered, I headed up to the legendary emporium of literature and food a very different layout to what I remembered from my previous visit two decades ago. This was inevitable as the shop had vacated their old rambling premises in 2014 and shifted operations a few doors further up the road into a building formerly occupied by Saint Martin's School of Art. The new Foyles stocks 200,000 volumes upon four miles of shelving. A café and auditorium occupy the top floor and it's a necessity in the modern world for city-centre booksellers to pursue other streams of income in addition to selling printed matter. I liked the spacious feel of the store and there were plenty of comfortable seats for relaxation purposes. As previously stated, the corporate muscle of Waterstones is now in control but a strict condition of sale was the Foyles name had to endure. Let's hope that contract is doubly watertight! Of course, I couldn't leave empty handed and I picked up a paperback entirely apposite to my activities in London - From Source to Sea: Notes from a 215-Mile Walk Along the River Thames, by Tom Chesshyre. It's a humorous account of undertaking the entire walk along the longest river wholly in England. Tom relays tales of the characters he meets on the trail and throws in a potted history of the river banks. The chapter on the rescue boats in central London is worth the purchase price alone. Recommended as a companion whether your walking the whole route, or just a portion as I was. For a comprehensive description of the city route, I was carrying a copy of The Thames Path in London by Phoebe Clapham. The book covers the section between Hampton Court and the Thames Barrier, with detailed coverage for both the North and South Bank options. It also includes the Thames Path Extension, enabling you to extend your walk to Crayford Ness if you wish. It was last updated in 2018 which is recent enough to make it an indispensable guide. Many blogs have been written about people's experience of the trail and I found The Rambling Man's website to be the most informative. In fact he personally recommends Phoebe Clapham's book and gives lots of tips for would-be walkers, along with his own personal account of the jaunt. He has published his Thames adventures in e-book format and I purchased this for a few pounds. Always happy to give something back!


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It was time to jump on the tube and travel to Putney Bridge for the first stage. The fares system has certainly changed since I last roamed on the underground in 2004. Back then, a useful tourist option was to buy a daily off-peak travel card from the counter or out of a machine. Nowadays you merely tap your contactless payment card when entering and exiting the system and the computer automatically calculates and deducts your fare. There is a daily cap for each zone which means you can safely hop on and off trains at will without running up a large bill. I found it all quite painless and certainly more convenient than standing in a queue. Transport for London have now closed their tube ticket offices and staff have been redeployed out on the platforms to offer assistance. The arrangement seems to work well and I had no difficulty locating personnel on the couple of occasions I needed to ask for travel advice. At Putney Bridge, I crossed the river on foot to reach the South Bank where my walk would take place. I chose this side as I wanted to explore Battersea Park and the famous power station. There was also a riverside pub en route that dispensed Young's traditional cask ale. The great things about following a river is the straightforward navigation, although most paths do make a deviation from the water here and there. I found the Thames Path to be very clearly signposted in its entirety and the occasional temporary diversion posed no problems. Get out there and do it! After passing through a residential area I caught my first sight of the Thames while walking through the pleasant confines of Wandsworth Park. I then had to cut away from the bank in order to cross the tributary River Wandel and pass behind a recycling centre. From this point on, the path stuck more or less to the water's edge for the next few miles, although I did have to duck around a heliport but had the privilege of watching a machine take off in the process.


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I stopped at the Waterfront Pub, owned by Young's. As the name of the hostelry suggests, I was able to find a seat outdoors by the Thames and watch the world pass by. It was probably around 5pm and the place was very quiet. Strictly card-only payments at the bar and a pint of bitter set me back £5.20 - although I expected these sort of rates in London. Young's is a Wandsworth institution and until as recently as 2006, a horse-drawn dray made deliveries to pubs within a stone's throw of the pre-Victorian Ram Brewery building - reckoned to sit upon Britain's oldest brewing site in continuous operation, with evidence of beer production in the immediate area stretching back to 1533. The Ram complex was sold to developers and the Young range of ales was taken on by Charles Wells, another famous name in the world of London beer. In a nice postscript, Ram manager John Hatch refused to let brewing die on the original site and negotiated a deal to allow the installation of a tiny one-barrel plant within an old stable block. This scheme has since expanded and craft specialists Sambrook's stepped in to increase production levels and open a taproom, thereby securing the unbroken link for the immediate future. Back on the Thames Path, I skirted Battersea Park for three quarters of a mile and paused to examine the striking Peace Pagoda. It was offered to the people of London by the Nipponzan Myohoji Buddhist Order as part of the 1984 Greater London Council Peace Year celebrations. Monks following the religion worked on the construction of the pagoda and the concrete and wood structure is over 100 feet high. It was the world's second building of its type to be erected (after Vienna) and there are now over 80 peace pagodas around the globe. Four large gilded bronze sculptures of Buddha are present on each of the building's four sides and an annual celebration in June brings together Buddhists from different traditions as well as interfaith representatives who offer prayers for peace. Battersea Park occupies reclaimed marshland and was opened in 1858. It is often cited as one of London's most attractive green spaces but tends to play second fiddle to the more centrally located parkland in the heart of the city. Usage has changed over the past century and a half but the park currently hosts a children's zoo, boating lake, bandstand, and all-weather outdoor sporting facilities including tennis courts, running track and pitches for hockey, football and cricket.


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Beyond the park stands the behemoth of Battersea Power Station. Decommissioned in 1983, the four-towered building is instantly recognisable to fans of classic rock music due to its appearance on the cover of Pink Floyd's Animals LP, which sold millions of copies worldwide. The artwork also featured a flying pink pig, which was actually staged in real life by filling a huge inflatable model with helium and floating it above the industrial plant. The story doesn't end there however. The pig broke free of its moorings and drifted over Heathrow Airport, where it caused flights to be delayed, before finally coming back to earth in a Kent field. Far out, man! The industrial site lay derelict for many years after a planned demolition was forbidden due to the listed status of the building. Various development proposals came to nothing and the 42-acre brownfield site continued to decay. In 2012, the whole complex was offered for sale on the open market and a deal with a Malaysian consortium was finalised the same year. The eight-phase £9 billion project involves creation of a mixed-use development, comprising a new neighbourhood and business quarter for London, serviced by a Zone-1 extension to the London Underground Northern Line. Restoration of the iconic power station is central to the plans and will offer hundreds of new shops housed in the historic turbine halls, a 2000-capacity events venue, large food hall, glass chimney lift and many new homes. It is envisaged 25,000 people will be living and working onsite by the end of the regeneration project. The tube line is already up and running and trivia freaks should note it is the only stop on the underground network with the word "station" in the name. My trail guide advised me I would have to detour around the construction site but this information was three years old and I was able to wander past the power station and relax on one of the many deck chairs scattered around the adjacent public lawn. New cafés and bars were trading and there were also moored boats offering hospitality. At this point my brother (a fan of Pink Floyd) rang my mobile and asked how my trip was going, to which I casually replied I was at Battersea waiting for the flying pig but was about to give up the ghost.


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I picked up the Albert Embankment which led back to Westminster and I passed Lambeth Palace - the official London residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury. The oldest remaining parts date from the 1400s. As I neared the end of my walking stage, I couldn't fail to spot the National Covid Memorial Wall - decorated with over 150,000 painted red hearts, each one representing a life lost to the recent pandemic. The memorial - established over ten days by 1500 volunteers acting without official permission - stretches for a third of a mile and runs along the boundary of St Thomas Hospital. The project has attracted widespread praise and messages have been written inside many of the hearts. It was a poignant reminder of a very difficult time. My first day's walking was at an end. I had noticed people sitting on the embankment, whiling away the time. Given the fact I would be spending a large chunk of each day inside museums and then putting in a few miles along the river, I doubted if I would get much opportunity to simply relax and ponder. But I'd signed up for a busy package and that brings benefits too. Such as discovering and learning new things. It was time to return to the hostel, cook myself a quick dinner and hit the sack. I would be on the road at 8am the following day. The next leg of my Thames trek was a circuit rather than a linear walk. Westminster and Tower Bridges are two and a half miles apart and many attractions are situated between them. I planned to walk both banks, pop up to the Museum of London and head over to the National Gallery for a couple of hours before it closed at 6pm. I had a timed entry of 10am booked for the Museum of London, which is situated near St Paul's Cathedral on the north side of the river. It made logical sense to walk the south bank early doors and the starting point was just five minutes from the hostel.


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The footpath between Westminster and Blackfriars Bridges is known as the Queen's Walk. I soon passed the London Eye - opened in 2000 and the world's largest Ferris wheel at the time of building (it has since been surpassed by others in Asia and America). The Eye is the most popular paid tourist attraction in the whole of the UK and each air conditioned capsule can hold up to 25 people. It used to offer the highest public viewpoint in the city but this was topped in 2013 by the observation deck on the Shard Building. I wandered past the performing arts complex known as the South Bank Centre and the curious OXO Tower. Beyond Blackfriars Bridge I encountered the imposing hulk of the Tate Modern Gallery, housed within the former Bankside Power Station, which closed in 1981. For the next decade and a half, no economical use could be found for the enormous site but conversion work began in the mid-90s and the cavernous art gallery (the third most visited in the world) opened in the year 2000. The Millennium Footbridge was constructed to connect the gallery to the northern bank and onwards to St Paul's. The Tate Modern was on my schedule for the following day and I pressed on past the replica of Shakespeare's Globe Theatre and under Southwark Bridge. At the Anchor Pub, the trail wanders away from the river, through a warren of narrow streets. I saw the Clink Prison Museum, built close to the site of the notorious medieval jail. A reconstruction of Sir Francis Drake's famous galleon Golden Hind sat in a small dock. It functions as a museum and events venue. I wandered past Southwark Cathedral and an excavated wall and rose window of Winchester Palace, dating from the 12th century. Then I walked through a passageway beneath London Bridge - a singularly unimpressive concrete and steel structure opened in 1973 to replace the 1831 version that was slowly sinking into the Thames mud. Unusually, the dismantled bridge was shipped to America where the blocks were reassembled in Arizona to form a crossing of a canal in Lake Havasu City. Back on the waterfront, I noted HMS Belfast safely moored as a branch of the Imperial War Museum. She undertook various WW2 missions and the public has been able to board the Ulster-built cruiser since 1971. The current adult admission price is £24. The city has many free things for tourists but you could easily spend large sums of money over a few days. Another case in point being the Tower of London across the water where standard entry will set you back £30. I had previously visited in 2001 and hadn't included it on my itinerary this time around. I pushed on to Tower Bridge and crossed over to double back on the other side. Apparently the only day on which the famous gateway doesn't swing open is when the London Marathon is in progress. Otherwise it could lead to some very wet feet!


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On the North Bank I strolled by the original site of Billingsgate Market - the centre of London's fish trade. A more convenient location was sought in 1982 and the public can visit, although the buying and selling is mostly done by 5am. The workforce was controversially forced to modernise in 2012 when porters - who inherited their job for life - were sacked and invited to re-apply as freelancers, no doubt at reduced rates. The market complex occupies valuable land and Billingsgate is slated to move to a new site in the near future to be shared with other traditional wholesalers Smithfield (meat) and Spitalfields (fruit & veg). I had to diverge from the bank before Millennium Bridge and I cut up a side street towards the Museum of London, passing St Paul's on the way. I decided to have a closer look at the iconic cathedral on the way back. The Museum of London isn't housed within the most attractive settings, being part of the Barbican complex of buildings created in the 1960s and 1970s to redevelop a bomb-damaged area of the city, near the remains of the old Roman wall. The concrete bowl architecture belies the status of the museum as the largest urban history collection in the world, with more than six million objects. I walked through the doors just after 10am and ahead of a school group that would soon catch up with me. The museum tells the story of the city's development from pre-Roman times to the present day and is primarily concerned with the social history of London and its inhabitants. One of the early exhibits is a 2nd-century painting from a bath house. The Fire of London Experience is a multimedia show dedicated to one of the most horrific episodes in the city's history. The conflagration broke out in 1666, burning for five days and destroying large parts of the old town. The Victorian Walk takes you by typical shopfronts from this age and the Pleasure Garden imitates a place where richer members of society could escape the crowds and flaunt the latest fashions.


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The Lord Mayor’s Coach is one of the best known items on display and is located in the City Gallery. The coach was built in the 1757 and is beautifully decorated in rococo style with many gilded parts. This noble vehicle is still in use. Once a year it makes its way through the city, conveying the mayor en route to an official appointment. Fascinating as all this was, I was drawn most to the 20th-century displays, probably because I was both child and adult over these years and my parents and grandparents related tales to me from the earlier phase of this time period. There was the obligatory material from both world wars before we entered swinging London and the punk era. Few people under 25 will have used a public telephone. Will the red post box also go the same way? Moving into the current century, the 2012 Olympic cauldron had a room of its own. The London games were an unqualified success and - thankfully - the sporting facilities constructed for the occasion continue to be used. I saw the flame pass through my home village of Cairneyhill and the cauldron consists of 204 rising stems that display a part of the flame in a uniquely shaped copper piece. The stems came together at the end of the wonderful opening ceremony and began to burn as one. The gallery display shows the cauldron with some parts fully extended and others just beginning to lift. It was probably my favourite exhibit in the whole place. I was very satisfied with my visit to a museum that doesn't always get mentioned in the same breath as the old Victorian institutions but nonetheless attracts universally positive reviews. I had the chance to say all this at the end of my tour when I was collared for a spot of market research, during which I learned there are plans to relocate in 2025 to the site of Smithfield meat market. It was lunchtime as I took a seat in the garden area surrounding St Paul's Cathedral. The Anglican place of worship sits on Ludgate Hill and occupies the highest point in the historic City of London. Its dome has dominated the local skyline for over 300 years and local laws prohibit building projects that would block the view of the church from the River Thames.


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Rather than picking up my circuit where I left off, I decided to walk across the Millennium Bridge and head to Borough Market for lunch, before returning to the walkway leading up to St Pauls. As the name suggests, the footbridge opened in 2000 as part of a package of projects around the city designed to celebrate the momentous occasion. The steel suspension structure was soon dubbed Wobbly Bridge after pedestrians experienced an alarming swaying motion on the opening day. After two more days of limited access, it was closed for almost two years in order to carry out modifications and repairs. These measures were successful and the bridge entered regular service in February, 2002. Now a bustling artery across the river, the Millennium Bridge has overcome the false start and - in any case - you'd have to be well into your thirties to have any meaningful memories of the hysteria that surrounded this calendar date (Millennium Bug anyone?). Scary! The indoor market was a short walk away through the back streets on the south bank and the Victorian halls thronged with shoppers. The traders specialise in quality food and I had a casual wander around the premises. I always try to avoid diving in too early and blowing my budget before I've seen all the produce on offer. As expected, electronic card readers were ubiquitous but I was very surprised to see a small pie stall displaying a sign saying no cash transactions were accepted. I had a spare £10 note in my pocket and wanted to buy something to eat the old-fashioned way. I spotted a huge dish of wild mushroom risotto and purchased a hearty portion for £8.50. After topping up my water bottle, I headed back towards the river to eat a delicious meal in the sunshine. The market itself doesn't have sit-down areas and only switched to retail in the mid-90s, following a serious decline in wholesale customers. Clearly a major success story.


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I wandered back over Millennium Bridge and realised I'd have to hop on the tube to reach the National Gallery in good time for my 4am time slot. Upon arrival at Trafalgar Square, I discovered there wasn't any system in place to process advance bookings and I simply had to join the general queue. It moved quickly though and I found myself inside the vast 1838 building with a couple of hours to roam around before closing time. Art aficionados could easily spend the whole day in here but I like to amble through the galleries on the lookout for something that catches my eye. I'll probably have a couple of targets on my list too. For instance, I knew a few Van Gogh works hang in the National Gallery, including the Vase with Fifteen Sunflowers. Over 2300 works of art are on display and I was sure to find a few personal favourites. The Cornfield by English landscape painter John Constable showed a boy drinking from a stream while a dog guides a flock of sheep across a rural Suffolk scene. I particularly liked The Skiff (pictured above) by Renoir. The iridescent summer scene depicts boating activities on the outskirts of Paris. I love the way the light glints against the water and can actually picture the event happening in real life. I kept up my personal record of always locating a cat painting in the major galleries and the work by Edouard Manet was titled Woman with a Cat - doing exactly what it said on the tin! Other highlights included: Portrait of Frederick Rihel on Horseback by Rembrandt. The Dutch master regularly seems to paint objects shining in or emerging from the gloom. A more modern masterpiece was Picasso's 1932 effort Woman with a Book - an intimate, sensual representation of his muse Marie-Therese Walter who is the mother of the artists daughter Maya (who herself is still alive). I also browsed a series of sketches by the ultimate polymath Leonardo da Vinci. Is there anything the man couldn't turn his hand to? I made my way back outside at 6pm and clocked the giant ice cream statue in Trafalgar Square. I could certainly have done with a real cone!


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There was still time to pop up Charing Cross Road and drop into Any Amount of Books - a classic second-hand shop full to the gunwales with reading matter. Everything from cheap paperbacks to rare volumes. I guess trade in the latter provides the main income stream as you would have to sell an awful lot of £2 novels to pay the rates bill for such a prime location. Walking back out without making a purchase was out of the question. This type of store is disappearing fast and the remaining outlets will only survive if the public support them. I rummaged around in the basement and selected a true-crime paperback for reading during my holiday. The shop also has an extensive internet catalogue which opens up the entire world marketplace. Having a known physical presence on a legendary thoroughfare like Charing Cross Road must give the business cachet in online circles. There are probably people who order a book by mail every now and then just because they want to help keep the store in business. I opted to fill in the portion of the north bank I'd missed when travelling by tube and enjoyed a seat in the the gardens on the Victoria Embankment. I then crossed Blackfriars Bridge and made my way back to the hostel on the south side. My third full day began with a short wander from my accommodation to the Imperial War Museum. I treated myself to a fry-up on the way as no visit to London is complete without breakfast in a traditional caff. I grabbed a newspaper and read all about the noose fatally tightening around Prime Minister Boris Johnson. Finally! The museum has occupied the former Bethlem Hospital building in Lambeth since 1936 and is situated within leafy grounds. A major upgrade was completed in 2014 and a new gallery dedicated to the Holocaust was added a couple of years ago. I spent half an hour exploring the main hall. Various examples of military vehicles and hardware were dotted around (or attached to walls / suspended from the roof). My favourite was the battered wreck of a Japanese Zero fighter that had been found on the Pacific island of Taroa an incredible 50 years after the end of WW2. I then proceeded into the First World War galleries.


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What an incredible display! The lengthy conflict was covered in great detail and the exhibition was an exhaustively immersive experience. No war had been fought on anything like this scale before, either in terms of sheer geography, firepower or mechanised transport. Sadly, the slaughter also reached epic proportions. The fighting involved the introduction of aircraft and tanks to the fray and no matter how much you think you already know about the prolonged battles, you are guaranteed to learn new information here. No need to follow this by saying "or your travel expenses back" - you absolutely will emerge a more informed person. I hadn't been aware of the fact that male workers fulfilling essential wartime production roles often faced hostility from the public, who accused them of shirking their patriotic duty on the front line. If an army "can't fight on an empty stomach" it certainly makes no sense to enter a theatre of war without the appropriate equipment. Workers were issued with official badges to prove they were engaged in helping the military effort, whenever challenged by a suspicious enquiry. It must have been hell on earth for the men out in the trenches and I completely rail against the disturbing trend to romanticise this existence. It's one thing tartan-washing the whole Jacobite campaign from several centuries back. There are however, many people alive today who had direct contact with those scarred by the Great War. My own grandfather and his four siblings were raised in poverty after their father was killed in the bloodbath known as Passchendaele. As I type, I have just watched the acclaimed documentary film by Peter Jackson - They shall not grow old. The project was created using original footage of WW1 from the Imperial War Museum's archives - largely previously unseen and all over 100 years old by the time of release. Audio is from BBC and museum interviews of servicemen who fought in the conflict. Most of the material has been colourised and transformed with modern production techniques, with the addition of sound effects and voice acting to produce a more evocative feel, closer to the soldiers' actual experiences. Essential viewing.


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As I approached the gallery exit, I glanced at my watch for the first time and figured I'd been inside the absorbing exhibition for two hours! Next up was the WW2 section. I definitely wouldn't be having lunch for a while yet! I think the main difference between the two conflicts is the first was commanded by lifelong military professionals who sought victory by deploying the resources at their disposal. The Second World War involved political despots with undue influence. You also had the gruesome Holocaust, an actual attempt to completely eliminate a race of people, rather than seek to simply invade their land. I have equal personal interest in the two wars. Both were fought across several continents and provoked major social change when the dust had settled. Perversely, some of the greatest advances in science, engineering and medicine occur at times when humanity is at its worst. Global strife, when the pursuit of victory trumps all other concerns is the one time when the best brains in the business can be uniformly focussed on solving particular issues. Some of that knowledge would be put to useful purposes after the fighting had ended. In the case of nuclear weaponry however, the genie was out the bottle and wasn't about to return whence he came. Assaults by planes and tanks had been technically limited in 1918 but now they were at the forefront of offensive strategy. I feel the sea aspect of the war is sometimes overlooked. Britain depended heavily upon imports from its global empire and the constant sinking of allied shipping was a major drain. Had the U-boats been able to tighten their grip to an even greater degree, we may well have been starved into submission. Looking over the development of the events through my own lens, it is clear Hitler made many errors (not least in putting himself in charge). Failing to press the advantage at Dunkirk, the cavalier invasion of the Soviet Union, fighting on too many fronts, charging headlong into the meatgrinder Battle of Stalingrad when falling back to regroup would have been the wiser option. Stalin was no better a tactician but he did have infinitely more men to throw at the problem.


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Both world war galleries were astounding but for me the 1914-1918 period just shaded it. Someone else might see it the other way round. A bit like trying to split the two classic early-80s Black Sabbath albums Mob Rules and Heaven & Hell. The next flight of stairs took me into a display with a different mood entirely. The softly-lit Holocaust exhibition was very reflective and photography strictly forbidden (I did witness this rule being enforced). There were many personal stories of how families were affected by the terrible events and the film footage was harrowing. Victims' belongings were at the heart of the display: letters, books, photos, jewellery musical instruments and toys. Admission was not recommended for children under the age of 14. I certainly don't think I could have processed the information in a constructive manner at this age. While the first two floors had energised my passion for 20th-century history, the Holocaust memories hit home in a completely different manner. The small room at the top of the museum hosted a temporary photo display dedicated to the Queen's wartime service. She worked as an ambulance driver and also learned how to maintain and repair vehicles. After a quick scoot round it was now 3pm. I had spent five hours at the War Museum but every second had been worth it. My plan to walk along the Thames to the Tate Modern had to be jettisoned in favour of the tube. I travelled from Lambeth North to London Bridge and dived into the adjoining Borough Market for a second helping of their artisan wares. Today I plumped for seafood paella and took it back to the same spot by the river where I had eaten yesterday. From here it wasn't far to the Tate and I arrived at the former power station just before 4pm, giving me a full two hours to look at the permanent collection. The interior is vast and galleries lead off the central turbine hall on several levels. A couple of special exhibitions commanded an entrance fee but I focussed solely on the free artwork.


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My first port of call was the gallery space inside the old oil tanks at ground level. The theme of the installation was a clearing the forest, rooted in shared notions of ecology, ancestral ritual and eternal cycles of time. Viewers were invited to conceptualise these ideas within the tanks - themselves historically generative spaces that fuelled the machinery with oil - a natural substance flowing from the earth. I could relate to the circular process of renewal and death. For most of mankind's existence, it has taken just what was needed from nature and only recently have we extracted resources that cannot easily be replaced. I didn't quite see how the physical display in front of me encapsulated all these ideas. I could be cynical and say it looked as if some old carpet rolls had been plonked on the floor at random intervals but of course I would never do that, would I? Perhaps I am being unkind as the blurb informed me the artwork would grow over time and if I were to come back in 12 months time I'd see evidence of regeneration. Hmmmm. As is always the case with modern art collections, it's very much as hit and miss affair. Some of it is unfathomable, certain works can be instantly dismissed but there is always something that speaks to you. I was captivated by the illuminated piece called Blue Purple Tilt by Jenny Holzer, featuring vertically scrolling words. Seven LED columns flashed up hundreds of slogans and common sayings expressing many different points of view. Holzer has specialised in text-based works since the late 70s and "Tilt" repeats messages from her previous creations, while others have been borrowed from political and literary sources. The rolling and pausing nature of the electronic sentences is meant to imitate the kinetic properties of the human voice. I just thought it looked good.


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My favourite individual gallery contained multimedia examples of Australian art from which examined the debates surrounding land rights for aboriginal peoples. In 1992, a high court decree overturned the principle of terra nullius - a Latin expression meaning the land belonged to nobody. Of course this is cleverly aligned with the perspective of a white colonist, giving the newcomers free reign to apportion the country as they saw fit, with scant regard to the indigenous folk already there. The concept of land ownership in the western sense was alien to the native Australians. Instead, they saw it as a living entity that is the basis for cultural existence. The exhibition was designed to reflect the ongoing impact of colonisation and the complexity of representation in Australian society day. Unfairly badged as "primitive" by European settlers, the aboriginal societies practise the world's oldest continuing living cultures. I personally find it astonishing that indigenous people were not fully recognised by the government as citizens until relatively recent times. Positive steps have been taken, with ancestral and religious lands handed back to the ancient tribes and the famous Ayers Rock reverting to its traditional name of Uluru. In fact, it is now forbidden to climb the spiritual landmark. Despite encouraging developments, aboriginal people remain seriously disadvantaged and their communities experience the familiar issues that plague Native Americans. It all stems from Europeans "discovering" a new land, planting a flag and deriding the existing culture as barbarous. Healing the wounds is a long and difficult process, still beset by attitudes that have more than a hint of colonialism about them. I just managed to squeak round all the free galleries before staff began the process of closing them off from the top downwards. Gulping down my water and refilling the bottle, I joined the throng being shepherded towards the exits. It was now 6pm and I had been on my feet all day but had yet to start my walk! Mind you, I only had approximately five miles to complete on level terrain and would be treating it as an extended stroll.


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I passed beyond Tower Bridge on the north bank, pausing for a look at St Katherine Docks - now refurbished as a marina for leisure purposes. The trail soon led through the district of Wapping, along the charming narrow cobbled streets, passing several traditional riverside pubs. Many of the old warehouses have been converted into attractive flats. The name Wapping conjures up memories of a major industrial dispute in 1986. Media tycoon Rupert Murdoch had moved his newspaper empire out of Fleet Street - the traditional home of British journalism - into a modern facility in Wapping equipped with the latest digital printing technology. The change meant old-school hot-metal typesetting would become obsolete and 90% of print workers would be offered redundancy, a situation the trade union vehemently rejected. When the strike began, dismissal notices were served on the 6000 participating employees and the dispute lasted a year, with frequent clashes on the streets of Wapping. My dad - a career journalist - always maintained any strike that failed to prevent publication and distribution of the paper was doomed to failure. The print unions had hoped their railway counterparts would refuse to sanction newspaper shipments on BR trains. Murdoch however enlisted the services of private couriers such as TNT and installed an alternative (and much reduced) workforce at his new facility, who were able to input text directly into the new computer system, effectively by-passing the traditional typesetting tasks. The upshot was not a single day's production of any publication was lost throughout the duration of the dispute. This allowed Murdoch to let the strike run its course until the inevitable point of collapse. The unsuccessful large-scale strikes of this period resulted in the power of the trade union movement being irrevocably reduced. People understandably fight to protect their way of life but - looking back - it seems like a battle that could never be won because you were up against huge leaps in technology. You have to ask yourself whether the strike leaders realised this from the outset but wanted their chance in the spotlight to enjoy one final scrap with the establishment. It does seem ludicrous nowadays that people wanted to cling on to antiquated production methods when we consider the extensive range of desktop publishing tools we can install on our own little laptops in the living room. Did we dig our heels in and stick resolutely with bulky beige Windows 95 PCs? Er, no!


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Curiously, as I type, we are seeing discontent spread in many professions as a reaction to the current cost of living crisis and several short strikes have already taken place. Don't discount the power of solidarity just yet! The walk progressed past Shadwell and through Limehouse towards the Isle of Dogs - a large peninsula bounded by a meander in the river. It's the big blue loop you see on the TV map shown during the credits sequence for each episode of EastEnders. The traditional London docklands declined seriously in the 1960s when shipping became containerised and the new larger vessels were unable to proceed so far upstream. The Port of London moved its operations further down the estuary and the final dock on the Isle of Dogs closed in 1980 - condemning the area to years of dereliction. By the time the 90s came around, the regeneration process was underway and the Dockland Light Railway in operation, making use of abandoned infrastructure. Phase one of the new Canary Wharf financial district was completed by 1991, although uptake was initially slow due to a downturn in the commercial property market and half of the new buildings remained empty in the middle of the decade. The situation gradually recovered and major companies began to see Canary Wharf as a viable alternative to office space within the traditional (and expensive) City of London square mile. The extension of the Jubilee Line connected Canary Wharf to the tube network and the working population had quadrupled by 2004. The Docklands Light Railway has twice been lengthened and the area has also won a reputation as a shopping destination. I followed the loop of the river and eventually saw the Cutty Sark sailing ship and Old Royal Naval College in the twilight on the south side, where I would begin my next stage tomorrow. The Thames Path on the north bank had now come to an end. Island Gardens DLR station was just behind me and I hopped on the next available service, changing at Canary Wharf for the Jubilee Line back to Waterloo. It had been an action-packed and interesting day.


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I set out on the final stage of my Thames journey, taking the tube back to Canary Wharf and walking up to the Museum of London Docklands, situated within former sugar warehouses at West India Quay. The Docklands Museum opened in 2003 and is affiliated to the Museum of London. I passed through the doors at 10am and was directed to an elevator. The visitor route was a top-down affair and the first couple of galleries looked at how the London docks operated during their heyday and played a vital role in expanding trade across the former British Empire. The displays on slavery were handled sensitively and the term "enslaved African" (rather than the dehumanising word "slave" itself) was used on literature panels - underlining the point about the victims being corralled into an evil system over which they had no control. Yes, it all happened a long time ago and even our great grandparents played no part in it. But certain consequences of the slave trade are alive and kicking today. It's not about attempting to apologise for something we personally didn't do, but trying to achieve a more equal society that works for everyone. Scotland was fully involved in utilising slave labour to build the empire and we should squash claims that we Scots were also colonised by the English and enslaved to some degree. I say that as a nationalist of many years standing and find it distasteful when people hint at these false arguments to try and advance the cause. No, you win people over by presenting a positive vision of the future, not by twisting the past to suit your own agenda. The early 19th century brought great change to London's river and port. A huge docks complex was built on the Isle of Dogs - with West India opening in 1802. The immersive Sailortown display recreates the atmosphere and bustling activity of the maritime district. Wooden clippers gave way to iron steamships and the Port of London became a major centre of commercial trading. For the first half of the 20th century, the sheds and warehouses along the Thames housed every conceivable commodity. The Docklands were obviously a major target for enemy aircraft fire during WW2 but trade declined in the aftermath of the conflict as large container vessels began to dominate international shipping and the Port Authority moved downriver, employing far fewer workers as the unloading process was now more efficient. The decline of the traditional industries and the successful rebranding of the Isle of Dogs was covered in great detail inside the final gallery.


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A breathtaking amount of information to assimilate in yet another first-class London museum. My next port of call (pun fully intended) was the National Maritime Museum across the river in Greenwich. I travelled two miles on the DLR to emerge in the bustling town centre. Historically part of Kent, Greenwich has a long seafaring heritage and the Royal Naval College - housed within an architectural masterpiece on the Thames - was based here from 1873 to 1998 and is now part of a world heritage site, which includes the Royal Observatory and Cutty Sark. The Maritime Museum occupies a building complex that previously served as the Greenwich Royal Hospital School. At its centre is Queen’s House, completed in 1635 for Henrietta Maria, wife of Charles I, within the grounds of the old Tudor royal palace where Elizabeth I and Henry VIII were born. The museum was established in 1934 and opened to the public three years later. The 14 galleries display a widely varied collection, including model ships, multimedia presentations and nautical paintings. Before I entered, I popped into Greenwich Market in search of a bite to eat. The main hall wasn't offering food and the couple of vans parked outside had long queues, so I bought myself fish & chips on the main street and sat on a wall beside the Cutty Sark. The celebrated sailing ship was the fastest of its era and represents the pinnacle of clipper ship design. Built in 1869 at Dumbarton, she spent a few years working the tea trade before turning to the transport of wool from Australia, a route where she held the record time to Britain for a decade. Continuing improvements to steam technology suppressed demand for the services of sailing ships and by 1922 Cutty Sark was only being used for cadet training exercises. She was transferred to a permanent dry dock at Greenwich in 1954 and put on public display. Now part of the National Historic Fleet, the part-wooden vessel survived a 2007 fire and was fully restored to museum ship status with assistance from the National Lottery Fund.


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I loved the atmosphere in Greenwich and would definitely like to spend a couple of days here in the future. After a quick pint, it was time to enter the Maritime Museum. My favourite area was the walkable Great Map (pictured) underneath the glass roof. Galleries were devoted to the various oceans and the polar regions. I saw the bloodstained naval jack (complete with bullet hole) worn by Admiral Nelson when he was fatally wounded at the Battle of Trafalgar. Maritime trade was covered in depth and the topic of slavery - a practice facilitated by shipping - wasn't ignored. A fine place to spend two or three hours exploring the nation's inextricable link to the seas. It was a warm day outside and after a cold drink I began the final five miles to Woolwich. Leaving Greenwich town behind, I reached the tip of the peninsula bearing the same name and I encountered the vast contours of the Millennium Dome. Now an indoor leisure complex known as the O2, it features exhibition space, restaurants, bars, a cinema and the concert hall usually referred to as the O2 Arena. The Jubilee Line was extended to serve the site, which is also reachable by catamaran. The original dome exhibition was a highly contentious political issue and attracted barely half of the intended 12 million visitors. Just as well Led Zeppelin reformed to put the venue firmly on the map a couple of years later! I walked below the Emirates Air Line - a cable car link over the Thames. Nicknamed the Dangleway, the 1km gondola system opened in 2012 at a cost of £60 million, just in time for the Olympic Games. Critics of the Air Line have dismissed it as an impractical transport solution, which will appeal to tourists at peak times but is unlikely to attract a large number of cross-river locals or commuters due to its location and ticket costs. It looks good though! Now that the city centre was far behind me, I encountered a major industrial plant on the river. The wharves here receive daily boatloads of marine-dredged aggregates, totalling 2.5 million tonnes over the course of a year. The material is then used in major construction schemes.


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I was within sight of the Thames Flood Barrier, completed in 1982 and designed to hinder strong surge tides that could submerge parts of the capital. Millions of pounds worth of damage could be caused, and many lives potentially lost. The ten steel gates allow shipping to pass through both up and downstream. When adverse tides are forecast, the shutters are raised in order to stem the flow. Such is the changing nature of our climate, the barrier is now regarded as merely a temporary solution. Here endeth the official Thames Path, although you can easily continue another 10 miles downriver. After a quick rest, I pushed on towards Woolwich town centre, about a mile distant. A free pedestrian and vehicle ferry service shuttles back and forth but wasn't in operation as I strolled by. A parallel foot tunnel also exists but I was too weary to try it out. A similar fate had befallen me the previous evening as I arrived at Island Gardens across the water from Greenwich. After traversing around 20 miles of river bank, I certainly had a far greater appreciation of the importance of this great sea link to London. Woolwich once hosted the Royal Dockyard, dating back to 1512 in the days of Henry VIII. A self-contained community of highly-skilled workers. Closure came in 1869 due to warships becoming increasingly larger and the Thames silting up. The War Office retained ownership of much of the site for another century but housing estates have now been built over the old compound. Closer to the town centre is Royal Arsenal complex. Established in 1671, the storage depot was gradually wound down after WW2 and the Ministry of Defence finally vacated the premises in 1994. Much of the enormous footprint has been sold off and redeveloped but the historic core remains and is now in mixed use. A local sporting legacy remains in the form of Arsenal FC, who were founded in Woolwich and to this day are known as the Gunners, although the team has long since relocated north of the river. I walked through the old military site towards the DLR station and was soon on my way back to central London. I had an early departure for Germany the following morning.


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The original plan was to catch a tube service to Liverpool Street around 7am and hop on the Stanstead Express. I had read recent reports of nightmare queues at airport security channels due to staff shortages and I decided to take no chances. Instead, I would set out in the middle of the night. I would far rather sit for a few hours in a departure lounge than run the risk of missing my flight. The main tube lines now operate 24/7 and I slipped out of the hostel at 3am and was on the first train to the airport at ten past four. The place was indeed mobbed when I arrived but I had plenty of time to navigate the chaos and a long spell of sitting ensued on the other side of the barrier. I could kip for a couple of hours on the plane and the main objective was simply to reach the Vaterland. More adventures awaited me but they will be described in another post. My London mission was complete.





 
 
 
  • Writer: Walking With Brian
    Walking With Brian
  • Jun 28, 2022
  • 15 min read

Updated: Sep 23, 2022

While scanning the maps of Glasgow, it struck me that three major parks on the southside are within easy walking distance of each other. Preliminary investigation confirmed that Queen's Park, Pollok Park and Bellahouston Park all feature iconic buildings and have hosted large-scale events over the years. This seemed like too good an opportunity to miss and I pieced together a plan to walk out from the city centre and do a circular tour. Glasgow Council has published heritage trail booklets online for each of the green spaces. I took the first direct bus from Cairneyhill on a fine Sunday morning and a two and a quarter mile trek from the Buchanan terminus brought me to the gates of Queen's Park.


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Officially opened in 1862 - the year of Queen Victoria's Silver Jubilee - the park was actually named after Mary, Queen of Scots, whose forces lost a battle in the vicinity. Laid out by Sir Joseph Paxton, who also designed the spectacular Crystal Palace in London and - closer to home - Glasgow's Botanical Gardens and Kelvingrove Park, the southern half of Queen's Park was deliberately given a natural feel while a more formal structure was presented in the north. A lavish winter garden and large artificial loch were included in the first submission but scrubbed by the bean counters on the grounds of cost. An army of unemployed men supplied much of the labour. The park was extended in the 1890s when the city corporation acquired Camphill House and its grounds. The mansion was converted to a museum in 1895, then turned into private flats a century later. Hothouses were added to this new corner of the park but were demolished in 1930 - only a set of stone steps remaining, next to the present-day Scottish Poetry Rose Garden. I entered the park and relaxed beside the boating pond and its smaller ornamental neighbour. It was turning out to be a warm day and I refilled my water bottle at a top-up tap by the main gates. I wandered up for a look at Camphill House but the lower half of the 1818 A-listed mansion was obscured by tall surrounding hedges. The former walled garden was transformed into a rose garden in the 1960s and - more recently - set to the theme of Scottish poetry. Despite the fact that many individual poets have monuments dedicated to them, it was felt that a general focus on the art form would be a suitable concept for the new project, especially since the rose itself is often referred to in verse. It was a pleasant area for strolling around and I located the old staircase that once led to the hothouses. Over a dozen poets have their words displayed on stonework within the garden and the languages featured are English, Scots and Gaelic.


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I decided to work my way towards the glasshouses that remain. The B-listed Edwardian complex has a central dome with a series of long, low ranges but public access has been prohibited since 2019 due to safety concerns. A similar problem occurred north of the river on Glasgow Green. Engineers estimated around £7 million worth of repairs to the famous Winter Gardens were necessary and it was decided to close the building indefinitely. These places are expensive to maintain and face a challenging future in the age of public sector austerity. On the other side of the coin, mental health is now a key issue across society and access to parkland with engaging facilities is recognised as a way of combating this problem. Hopefully a business solution can be found to preserve these old glasshouses. Indeed, reports suggest the Friends of Queen's Park group are spearheading a move to secure the future of their hothouse. But a lot of money will be required. The council heritage trail document was obviously published before the enforced closure as it mentions that 150,000 people visit the glasshouses annually and that reptile, fish and bird collections live within the humid environment. I was able to poke my camera through the railings and obtain a shot of the glasshouse gardens, which were unfortunately closed on Sundays. Through the trees I could see the top of the monument commemorating the Battle of Langside - a disastrous defeat for Mary, Queen of Scots. The tall granite column was erected in 1887 and stands in the centre of a roundabout outside the park boundary. A lion sits on top with a cannonball under its paw. Decorated with Mary's royal coat of arms, the 60-foot pillar marks the spot where the thick of battle ensued. It was restored in 1988 and is a fitting tribute to a figure whose spirit still looms over Scotland.


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The Battle of Langside was one of the most significant battles to take place in Glasgow. Mary had returned to Scotland from France after the death of her husband Francis II. She then married the Catholic Lord Darnley, but he was assassinated in 1567. That same year, Mary married a Presbyterian earl suspected of the murder - James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell. Both marriages scandalised Protestant Scottish leaders, who rose up against her. Mary was imprisoned in Lochleven Castle and forced to abdicate in favour of her infant son James. Her half-brother Lord James Stewart, Earl of Moray, was appointed Regent. Following a dramatic escape, Mary set out west, gathering an army along the way. The strength of the force topped 6000 men. In May 1568, her troops were cut off by Moray's forces. Mary’s cavalry made an unsuccessful charge and her foot soldiers marched towards Langside Hill. The two armies battled where the memorial stands today and were reportedly evenly matched until Moray’s reinforcements arrived. The final stage was allegedly over in less than an hour. Mary lost 300 men and Moray a mere handful. Mary - who had watched events unfold from nearby Cathcart Hill - fled south and spent her last night in Scotland at Dundrennan Abbey in Kirkcudbrightshire. She crossed into England where she was held captive in various locations by her cousin Elizabeth I, who believed that Mary had her sights set upon the English throne. Accused of several plots, Mary was sentenced to death for treason and was beheaded at Fotheringhay Castle, Northamptonshire in 1587. I only had time to take in selected highlights of each park but I didn't want to leave before checking out the view across Glasgow from the flagpole. This artificial mound was created with the intention of providing an attractive panorama from the 209-foot summit. The views to the north were the best and the Campsie Fells range could be seen in the distance. It was now time to head for Pollok Park and I paused to check out Langside Hall on the fringes of Queen's Park. The A-listed building was once the imposing National Bank of Scotland within the city centre. As Glasgow expanded and swallowed up outlying districts, the entire building was dismantled and moved stone by stone from Queen Street to Shawlands in order to function as a town hall, which opened for business in 1903.


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I arrived at the entrance to Pollok Country Park, which is Glasgow's largest public space at 360 acres. The former private estate was the seat of the Maxwell family for 700 years. It was gifted to Glasgow Corporation in 1966 by Anne Maxwell MacDonald on the condition it be used for leisure purposes. The acquisition of such a tranquil setting finally provided the local authority with a potential home for the famed Burrell Collection which had been sitting in storage for two decades. Sir William Burrell - a native of Glasgow but long-term chief of Hutton Castle, Berwickshire, had assembled an enormous personal art, pottery and sculpture (to name but three) portfolio during his years as a successful shipping tycoon. He too had donated his assets to the people of Glasgow but placed strict stipulations on the type of environment where the collection could be housed. Pollok Park ticked the right boxes and a museum was constructed to showcase the artworks - eventually opening in 1983. I was actually planning to take my mum there a couple of weeks henceforth as the place has recently reopened following an extensive refurbishment. Today I would be focussing on Pollok House and the surrounding country landscape. Rather than head straight for the mansion, I had plotted a walk along the White Cart Water, by a cricket field. What I didn't expect to see was a Highland cow slumbering just yards from the adjacent field boundary. Apparently the herd - now numbering around 100 - has been grazing here since the 19th century as the Maxwells were keen cattle breeders and won many prizes. Each cow is given a traditional Gaelic name and they are often taken to local and national agricultural shows. They are now firmly established as part of the Pollok Park brand. I followed the water along to the old stables and stumbled across a walled garden with ample bench seating. The perfect spot for lunch. Suitably fed and watered, I explored some of paths through the woodland garden before realising I must have overshot the mansion. I reoriented myself and approached the house from one end. A squad of workers were busy packing away a large marquee on the back lawn and I assumed there must have been a wedding here the night before. The property is an amazing sight to behold and now overseen by the National Trust.


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Built between 1747 and 1752, the now A-listed house was built with a southerly outlook on to the north bank of the White Cart. Originally box shaped, the Georgian mansion had wings added in 1860. Also added in later years were the terrace and flanking pavilions. The family collection of artwork and ceramics is contained within but I was happy to view the property from the exterior today. Perhaps at some point in the future I will dedicate a morning or afternoon to a complete tour. Wealthy families often had their residence requisitioned by the military during the world wars and Pollok House was used as an auxiliary hospital. The Maxwell-MacDonald family retain the use of two flats on the second floor today. My first sight of the house was across the geometric parterre garden of low clipped hedged and gravel paths. The corner pavilions - introduced in 1901 and topped with cupolas - are also A-listed and I examined the one in front of me before walking across the lawn to find suitable angles for photographs. I sat on the boundary wall to avoid getting in the way of the crew dismantling the tents and turned round to gaze over the White Cart, where people were whiling away time on the banks. An elegant stone bridge across the water is yet another A-listed structure and dates from the 1750s. This would have linked the Mansion House and its stable courtyard with Polloktoun and the South Lodge gateway. The main entrances to the estate from this direction would have provided a stunning approach to the mansion. I wandered through the flower garden and then across to the opposite wing where toilet facilities were available and a small café in operation. It's often the case with stately homes that the most attractive areas are found around the back. This after all is where the occupants would have relaxed to enjoy their privileged position. The front of Pollok House appears stiffer and more formal. A place to park carriages rather than unwind with a drink. I had planned a walking route from the house entrance to the exit closest to my next stop - Bellahouston Park.


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Directly in front of the main gates to Pollok House running north to south is a steep avenue of lime trees. This feature was planted in 1888 as a gift from Alexander Crum of Thornliebank to Sir John Stirling Maxwell to commemorate his 21st birthday. Each spring the avenue is illuminated by masses of Daffodils which flower along each side. I began heading up the wide stretch of grass and, out of nowhere, a horse overtook me from behind at great speed. Meanwhile, I plodded along on Shank's pony. Lime Avenue merged into Rhododendron Way - deliberately designed as two almost perpendicular straight lines in order to make the most of the rise and fall of the land and give long spectacular views. It was a pleasing traffic-free route. Not sure how environmentally friendly rhododendron plantations are though. I believe this non-native plant is pretty invasive. I did cross over estate roads a couple of times before finally emerging at a pond, where two mallard ducklings where swimming alongside their mother. I couldn't help wondering why only two youngsters were in the group. Had a heron gobbled up their siblings? I eventually left the massive estate and took a footbridge over the M77 that connected me with Bellahouston Park, obviously a neighbouring estate back in the day. The motorway passes through the southwest corner of Pollok Park and there were protests against its construction in the mid 90s. Opponents to the scheme objected to the destruction of 5000 trees and claimed local communities would be cut off from the park. Activists came from across the UK to occupy newly-built treehouses and tunnels on the site. The eco-camp was named the Pollok Free State. A giant land sculpture dubbed "Carhenge" was erected on the site. Built from half-buried old vehicles, the environmentalists argued for a future with more public transport and less individual car ownership - a theme relevant in today's world with ever-increasing concern over carbon emissions. The campaign ultimately failed to prevent the development of the motorway but pressure groups reared their heads again in 2008 when plans were announced to create a treetop adventure course - run by Go Ape - through the north woods of Pollok Park. Campaigners said it would disrupt the peaceful nature of the area and objections were lodged by the National Trust and Deputy First Minister Nicola Sturgeon. In the end, the company walked away from the proposal.


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I entered my third set of park gates and began walking through the vast open space. Bellahouston Park has hosted numerous mass gatherings over the years and the Glasgow Summer Sessions music festival was held annually in the run-up to lockdown. Those aged over 50 will recall Pope John Paul II paying a visit in 1982 which attracted 250,000 worshipers. A third of this figure turned up to see Pope Benedict XVI in 2010. Perhaps indicative of the declining role of organised religion in society? I wanted to explore the heritage of the 1938 Empire Exhibition staged here. The centrepiece was the 300-foot Tait Tower, built upon the summit of Ibrox Hill in the centre of the park. It boasted three observation decks and could be seen from 100 miles away. Along with most of the exhibition infrastructure, the tower was dismantled a year later and nowadays only the foundations can be traced. An urban myth states that demolition was ordered in 1939 lest the tower become a landmark for enemy bombers but in truth the exhibition - as was normally the case back then with events of this scale - was always intended to be a temporary installation. Rather frustratingly, the hilltop is now dominated by tree growth, which obscures some potentially decent views of the city. The park was opened to the public in 1895 and extended over the following decade. Ibroxhill Mansion and its grounds were added to the green space but the house was demolished in 1914 after serving as a tea room for a few years. Another grand property located within the park boundaries was Bellahouston House, on the lower slopes of the hill. Long demolished, only the basements walls remain and the site is now named the sunken garden. Rows of concrete blocks have inserted as an art display - but it didn't do much for me. The focal point of Bellahouston today is the modern House for an Art Lover. Surrounded by manicured gardens and a sculpture park, the property was completed in 1996 upon the foundations of Ibroxhill House. The portico of the latter had been retained and served for many years as an entrance to a rockery garden, before being repurposed as the gateway to the new project. House for an Art Lover is based on plans drawn up in 1901 by esteemed architect Charles Rennie Mackintosh. He had entered a German competition to design a grand house in a modern style that challenged ideas of the time. The submission was disqualified from the competition on grounds of insufficient perspective drawings. On a positive note, the designs were awarded a special prize for their personal touch, along with an innovative form and the uniformity of both exterior and interiors. I suppose that's what you call a result.


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House for an Art Lover is accessible to the public and features an exhibition and café. Pre-booking of tours was necessary however and I enjoyed a seat in the gardens instead. I then wandered around the sculpture park, noting the Peace Cairn - erected in 1938 for the Empire Exhibition. The steel globe on top was added in 2004 and depicts the word "peace" in various languages. I also went in search of the granite monument commemorating the grand event and found it nestled in a shaded area of Ibrox Hill. Although 1938 proved to be one of the wettest summers on record, the exhibition attracted 12 million visitors and the two largest pavilions (among 100 display sites) were the palaces of industry and engineering. The eating facilities included one of the first Indian restaurants in Scotland and the Atlantic Restaurant, modelled on an ocean liner. The Clachan, a life-size model of a Highland village proved a popular attraction and featured native Gaelic speakers carrying out their daily tasks. One of the stars was Mary Morrison from Barra, who sang laments in her mother tongue while working at her spinning wheel. The only surviving original building from the exhibition is the Palace of Arts. It was intended to be a permanent fixture and was earmarked to house the City of Glasgow's art collection once Bellahouston Park returned to normal. The square structure had an inner courtyard with galleries leading off this space. Scottish works were prominently displayed. Plans changed somewhere along the line and the building ended up as a community sports hall. It was extensively refurbished at the turn of the century, along with the adjacent leisure centre that had opened in 1967. People often lament the fact that these grand exhibition sites were taken down afterwards but a major part of the pulling power was the very fact the attractions wouldn't be around for long. The had to be promoted as "once in a lifetime" events in order to bring in droves of punters. This in turn (hopefully) recouped the vast costs of staging the exhibition and you have to ask what could realistically have been done with a series of recently vacated halls. I attended the Glasgow Garden festival in 1988 when the European City of Culture title was bestowed upon our largest city. Virtually no trace remains today.


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As I exited Bellahouston Park, I realised I was close to Ibrox Stadium and I took a walk down to the famous home of Rangers Football Club. I've been to a handful of matches there over the years and thought it would be interesting to see the place without crowds of people milling around. I was virtually the only person walking past the huge bulk of the main stand with its red-brick facade. Now a modern all-seated arena with a capacity of 50,000, Ibrox has dark periods in its history. A 1902 tragedy caused the deaths of 25 supporters when part of a stand collapsed during a Scotland versus England fixture, dropping between 200 and 300 people to the concrete floor below. The disaster led to an overhaul in grandstand design. Wooden terraced seating upon a framework with nothing underneath was largely replaced by structures sitting upon solid earth or concrete embankments. In more modern times, two people were crushed to death in 1961 on stairway 13 while exiting the ground after the match had ended. One has to ask whether lessons were learned on this occasion because a far greater catastrophe unfolded on the very same staircase a decade down the line. In the club's defence, £150,000 had been spent on safety improvements - a considerable amount of money at a time when there was no national legislation on the matter. The traditional New Year fixture against Celtic in 1971 was nearing the end of play when Rangers scored a last-gasp equaliser. This, naturally, prompted great delight among the home supporters, many of whom had already made their way towards the exits (Celtic having dampened the mood by edging ahead just a minute earlier). Nobody knows exactly what sparked the chain of events on the steep exit stairs. One theory suggests some fans tried to turn back in order to take part in the goal celebrations, only to be engulfed by the dense mass behind them. This speculation has largely been rejected by studies of the disaster which concluded the 66 people who lost their lives had all been proceeding in the same direction. That said, the 1961 incident also featured a goal in the dying seconds against arch-rivals Celtic....


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In all probability it was a case of a tragedy waiting to happen. The ritual of fans leaving a packed stadium via narrow exit channels occurred on a weekly basis up and down the land. The official inquest said the deaths were caused by either asphyxiation or suffocation but the bottom line is 66 people set out to watch a game of football and never returned home. I wandered over to the memorial, installed in 2001 on the 30th anniversary of the tragedy. The name of each victim is inscribed on a blue plaque and a statue of John Greig - Rangers captain on the day - stands above. Sadly, the Ibrox disaster did not mark the end of people losing their lives inside a football ground. A horrific fire at Bradford saw 56 fans perish on the final day of the 84/85 season. (A 15-year-old boy died beneath a collapsed wall at Birmingham on the same afternoon). The death toll at Hillsborough Stadium in 1996 eventually reached 97 and only very recently did a court rule the fans were unlawfully killed. Football stadia are now considered safe family-friendly places but it took a long time to get there. The fact does remain that when you funnel large volumes of moving people into relatively small spaces, a risk is created. Nor did the dangers disappear with the turn of the 21st century. As recently as 2010, a crush in a tunnel at the German Love Parade pop festival claimed the lives of 21 revellers. You also don't need many thousands of people to constitute danger. The rock band Great White were playing in a Rhode Island nightclub when a fire broke out on stage and exactly 100 people were killed, many in the stampede for the front door, where a bottle neck quickly developed. On that sombre note, I made my way down to the River Clyde and followed it back to the city centre.


 
 
 
  • Writer: Walking With Brian
    Walking With Brian
  • Jun 24, 2022
  • 5 min read

Updated: Sep 23, 2022

Nobody likes traipsing around indoor museums at the age of 12. Unless we're talking giant dinosaurs or machinery that moves at the push of a button. But displays of pottery, sculpture and paintings? Er, no thanks! Can we not just hit the gift shop, like, now? Yes, it's fair to say I didn't fully appreciate the charms of Glasgow's famed Burrell Collection on my first visit (although finding massive conkers in the surrounding parkland offered some consolation). The vast and eclectic array of objects had been gifted to the City of Glasgow in 1944 by wealthy shipping magnate and native son Sir William Burrell. He acquired over 8000 artworks during his lifetime and several of his paintings were already hanging in the Kelvingrove Museum when he made his major philanthropic gesture. Burrell simply wanted people to gain pleasure from art and to improve their lives through an appreciation of beauty. He had served long spells as a councillor in Glasgow and Berwickshire and was also a trustee of the National Galleries of Scotland.


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Finding a suitable home for the collection proved problematic. Burrell was 82 when he made the public donation, which included £450,00 in cash. When he died 14 years later in 1958, the thousands of pieces were still sitting in storage. It wasn't until Glasgow Corporation acquired Pollok House and the 360-acre surrounding parkland in 1967, that plans to construct a permanent museum were finally rubber stamped. The quiet rural setting was deemed within the spirit of Sir William’s ambitions and the hunt for a suitable architect began. Spiralling costs cause considerable delays and the attraction was formally opened by the Queen in 1983. The building follows an L-shaped plan and is tailored to display the objects, with larger pieces such as Romanesque doorways built into the structure. Views extend into the park over formal grassed areas to the south and into adjacent woodland to the north. More than a million people visited in the first year and the museum quickly established itself as one of Glasgow's best loved public spaces. A six-year refurbishment commenced in 2016 and I saw BBC footage from the reopening ceremony on Reporting Scotland. I made up my mind there and then to pay a return visit during which I could appreciate the collection through a more mature pair of eyes. My mum readily agreed to accompany me. Reckoning the first few weeks after the relaunch would be rather busy, we waited a couple of months then set out for Glasgow on a Sunday morning. Pollok Park is easily accessible from the M77 and the journey was painless. I had actually explored the parkland and viewed Pollok House the previous weekend as part of a city walk, but had left the Burrell Collection alone. It's not the sort of place you just drop into for a quick look around. Several hours is required to do the place justice. I was more than happy to pay the parking fee of £2.50, as it stated on the website that all monies raised would be ringfenced for the benefit of the park. General admission is free and it's good to give something back. We strolled into the museum and I was immediately struck by the generous amount of light flooding into the main gallery via the tall windows looking out on to the woods.


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A lot of people were milling around but there was no real congestion and you didn't have to crane your neck to look at the numerous display cases. The primary gallery ran the length of the building's outer wall and other rooms led off into the interior. My favourite items in the long gallery were the bust of Mary Magdalene (Florence, circa 1500) and carving of a group of monks, from Germany. The room I enjoyed the most featured several recreations of life within Burrell's home - Hutton Castle in Berwickshire. He moved there with wife Lady Constance and daughter Marion in 1927 (having bought the place 11 years earlier) and it was the family base for four decades. The vast collection filled every nook and cranny. Every room was sumptuously furnished, including the servants quarters. Burrell meticulously logged every purchase and extracts from his ledgers were on display, showing dates, names, places and price paid. Some objects were bought for as little as £25, although that was probably a couple of months wages for a working person back then. I wonder if he drew up a plan of where everything was displayed or if it was all kept in memory? I also liked the fact the castle staff were mentioned frequently in the gallery and a real insight to their duties and wider lives was conveyed. William Burrell seems to have been firm but fair with the workers and would gladly reward exceptional performance. It sounds like he basically expected folk to be good at their jobs, probably because he had made such a success of his career. There was a fine portrait of Marion Burrell, who was a young woman during the roaring 20s. This decade was big on fashion, film and music but didn't usher in great social change - at least not for females. Relations broke down between Marion and her parents but it wasn't until William Burrell's death that unmarried Marion was finally able to become a lady of independent financial means - at the age of 58! Under Scots law, she was entitled to one third of the estate, despite her father's attempt to cut her out of the will. Must have been a real feud!


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Burrell was a keen collector of paintings and owned works by the likes of Degas, Cézanne and Rodin. He was on first-name terms with leading Scottish artists of the day and fully involved himself in the Glasgow scene. My mum has a decent knowledge of art history and she enjoyed this area of the collection immensely. I couldn't help but notice the museum had gone to extra lengths to tick the LGBTQ+ boxes. Saint Sebastian was described as a gay icon and the arrows that prick his body symbolise the slurs that minority groups still have to contend with today. After covering all of the ground level, we headed down to the lower-floor restaurant for lunch. Again, the room was well lit with excellent views across Pollok Park. We found a small table and ordered haggis bites plus the soup of the day, with cloudy lemonade to drink. The system in place was to order at the counter and the waiting staff would bring your food to the table. Mum deals mainly in cash and the young woman at the till looked slightly surprised when I proffered hard currency. Sign of the ever-changing times. The recent upgrade of the museum increased total gallery space by a third. Balconies have been created in parts of the building that were previous inaccessible. We completed our tour by taking the elevator to explore these further exhibits - which focussed primarily on textiles. I urge everyone to organise a trip to the Burrell. In fact, make an entire day of it in Pollok Park.

 
 
 
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