Up A Lazy River

After an initial fruitless foray I have discovered a path that grants access to the Old Father Thames and is just a hop, skip, and cycle ride from my front door.

So, home pleasantly early from work, I first took tea , and then mounted trusty Belerephon for points south.

London's roads are, as far as I am concerned, a dream for cyclists. After a leisured forty minutes wandering down roads where traffic can hardly exceed twenty miles an hour, I crossed leafy parks in dappled shade.

The evening air here this September seems to have a magic quality. The heat of the day is subdued a little, though still the stones bathe you with warmth. The light, a golden blessing, lifting the heart and soul at once.

As I wound my way along the last quarter mile of path I could see that this particular hour was a perfect spell.

I sat amongst the long grass, listening to it whisper in the evening breeze. Watched the sea birds nod each other in cordial acquaintance lined up along the jetty. The sun dipped ever lower over the city towards its rest. The river slid gently between its banks like a lazy grey snake.

As I listened, I tell you friends, I could hear the great Moo Moo humming a gentle tune.

And as the stars began to peek, I turned to home, stopping only to avail myself of some particularly fine fish and chips on the way.