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I head down to the Globe, the reconstructed Shakespearian theatre on the banks of the Thames next to Tate Modern, to pick up some relatives who have come to stay with us. While the play finishes and the sun sets there's time to stand on the Millennium Bridge and feel the wind in my face to the sound of gulls. It's a dark, warm, rainy evening and as the light fades almost visibly, the lights from the office blocks opposite grow correspondingly stronger. The buildings gradually become almost featureless blocks of concrete, stone and glass.
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Propelled by the tide, party cruisers head downstream to the sounds of more music and laughter.
The Thames is a slice of something really gorgeous running through this city.
3 comments:
Relatives are really grateful! Wish had seen blog before (or you were not so modest) would have visited the Hay G! Were sketches posted down on Sunday?
You've drawn a lovely picture there, James-pictorially and verbally. It almost makes me want to live in London again... but not quite!
Yes, nice evocative stuff James. I am about to blog on the subject of the magnificent gloom young George Manson and I encountered recently in the Cheshire Cheese off Fleet Street.
The Thames smells best at night in my experience. Keep on bloggin'
Jim
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