Seachain an duine a bhíonn ina thost

What a fun couple of days! Yesterday I finally had my hearty walk along the Thames Path; on Thursday it was raining quite a lot and frankly I couldn't be bothered getting wet. So I waited, and yesterday I started from Waterloo at 10:45 and finished up at Hammersmith tube station around 2pm.

It was quite a jolly jaunt really. The sun was out, the sky was blue and I was pleased I had had the foresight to apply suncream despite the grey clouds when I left Wimbledon. I mostly stuck to the north bank, so I passed Westminster Palace, walked through Victoria Tower Gardens, passed a very grand but utterly unsignposted building which turned out to be MI5. Skirted along the edge of Pimlico (I want to live there when I grow up), passed the Tate Modern, gazed at Battersea Power Station. Passed MI6 (much more ostentatious than MI5), watched a ginormous marquee being erected in the grounds of the Royal Hospital Chelsea (at least that's where I think it was) and reached Albert Bridge, my original destination.

Albert Bridge is really very pretty, and it's pretty rare to see a bridge sign warning troops to break out of step when crossing (you might have to click on the picture to see that). My map tells me it is not deemed strong enough to withstand 'modern traffic'.



But I had started at Waterloo, not Tower Bridge (because I've already walked between Tower Bridge and Waterloo), so it really wasn't very far to Albert Bridge. So I had sort of decided before I started that I would go further than Albert Bridge. My handy A to Z informed me that Putney Bridge would be a good place to aim for since it had a tube station nearby. But I got there and the sun was blazing, there were informative shows on Radio 4 and there was a satisfying-looking stretch of path ahead on the southern shore.

So I headed for Hammersmith instead. I passed the London Wetlands Centre on my left, although I couldn't see it, and passed all the rowing clubs I'd seen at the end of my Beverly Brook walk too. And some precariously parked cars, whose owners obviously have a lot of faith in their handbrakes.



By the time I got to Hammersmith my feet ached and my legs ached and I was fed up with walking. So I headed back to Wimbledon, where I discovered three giant blisters: one on the inside of each of my heels, and a very sore whopper on the ball of my left foot. So I lay on the floor and read my book in the sun for a while, looking up at some lovely sunflowers and the roof and stuff.



And that was that. If you're interested, here's my route.