Walking the Streets of London (2007)

Trivia: or, the Art of Walking the Streets of London, written by John Gay in 1716, is a celebration of the metropolis. On Friday evening I walked the streets of London to the Norht and East for a few hours. I walked north, which, as I am in the center of the old city of London, meant going by the bank of england and institute of chartered accountants, and more banks, and bankers and would-be bankers, and would-be future wives of would-be bankers talking loudly and drinking in smart modern outdoor bistros in buildings that probably weren't here five years ago. And on past less smart banks, and office blocks, and would-be office blocks, and companies that did something not to clear but did it all over the world because they had clocks on the wall in a back room telling time all over the world. and then into a pub, small but brash, for half a pint. Then north and east and then east. I must look like I know what I am doing as a car driver asks me which way to Brick Lane, and I say I don't know but I point the general direction and a bicyclist confirms that, so I feel all right. But now we ARE in the east and it is getting quite seedier. I enter Brick Lane but I go on past the Bangladeshi restaurants as I am on a mission to get some chips, and i figure the east end is going to have more chippies than the area around the bank of england! I wanted to loop around, but the train tracks are in the way and, of course, I am literally on the wrong side of the tracks. There are lots of parties on second floors, although that would really be the first floor for Brits. I find a road under the train tracks and then there are council house estates, and I cut through some and some have elaborate iron grills on lower floors which means that Thatcher's privatization of council housing must have taken, but these are all South Asians, with those low white caps they must be Pakistani or Bangladeshi. And then there I walk through a small park with lots of young African men. Now I am in Whitechapel (which is where Jack the Ripper did his business) and I finally find a chippie and buy a saveloy (a rather questionable slightly spicy hotdog) and chips open. And I eat this with a wooden fork while I walk. and I see a statue and start to see if I can read what it is but there are folks dossing down for the night around it and others arguing rather drunkenly so I continue. and then i try to double back or at least get to the river, but forget that this part of the river swings way to the south, so that instead of going back west, I am just going south. And then I look into a window and see people working around a table. It is a maddrassa. I can't see the identifiable buildings of the city any more so I stop someone and ask how to get to the city. And he is very helpful but without a lot of English ("you go and take the step," meaning stairs) and the directions he gives me are great. I want to go back and thank him. The London Docklands Light Railway is fairly new and this took me from Shadwell one stop (but the longest between stops I have ever been on in London) all the way to Bank. Then I walk back past all the beautiful people queuing at velvet ropes for trendy nightspots. As Samuel Pepys wrote in his diary: And so to bed.