A River Runs Through It

It is only fitting that, with under two months left in London, we spend some time exploring its lifeblood, the River Thames. The sights along its banks have changed enormously since I have been in London – when I first started work in town in November 1998 there was no London Eye, no new Hungerford Bridge walkways, no Millennium Bridge, no Aquarium, no Portcullis House, no Tate Modern, no Gherkin, no City Hall, no St George’s Wharf, no Dome. There was only one tower at Canary Wharf and hardly anywhere to eat. It’s been thrilling to see the area develop and thrive.

The last major development in recent times on the South Bank (other than the appearance of some turf on the side of the National Theatre and some rather rather sexy Antony Gormley figures on the rooftops) has been the renovation of the Royal Festival Hall, which is now nearing completion. Dad helped the funding appeal for the building works by buying a seat in the balcony of the auditorium in Mum’s memory. This meant that he was sent free tickets for a preview “acoustic tuning” concert this week, for which I joined him. And we were completely blown away. Not only does the hall look stunning - it's kept its 50s retro look but it’s been enhanced, brightened and made totally übercool - they've employed one of the world's top acousticians to work on the sound. And it is breathtaking. I have never heard an orchestra sound so fantastic - and we were in the cheap seats. Every instrument rang rich, warm and perfect. There is no room for mistakes as everything is crystal clear. (They had brought in quite a dodgy choir and there was no masking that fact, alas.) I can't believe we're leaving London just as it gets a world-class concert venue on a par with Symphony Hall in Birmingham in terms of style, space and engineering, and even better in terms of its glass facades and picture windows, which afford Thames and Parliament panoramas to die for.

Another thing Dave and I did recently was to climb the Monument, something which I have avoided doing in my time in London because once the London Eye opened, it was a less tiring (if far more expensive) means of exploring the metropolis skyline from a great height. However, the vertiginous climb up the 311 spiral steps inside Christopher Wren’s column is very much worth the effort as it affords a completely different vista of the City than you can get from anywhere else (unless you happen to work in an office block nearby, I suppose). Plus you get a special certificate to mark your legs’ achievement. Our legs were so proud of themselves that we decided to continue on from the Monument along the Thames Path to Greenwich. Or rather to Canary Wharf, where we found the riverside path closed owing to yet more building work so had to cheat and hop on the DLR for a couple of stops. It was a gorgeous day and a gorgeous walk – past the Tower and Tower Bridge, St Katherine’s Dock and the surprisingly pleasant Wapping High Street with its apartment-converted warehouses and historic pubs, the most famous being the Prospect of Whitby. (It’s a policy for us at the moment to drink only in establishments that have a Yorkshire theme.) The Gordon Ramsay catering machine has just taken over the Narrow inn near Limehouse. The place was rammed as we walked past, but no sign of anyone eating his much-promoted faggots.

Canary Wharf has styled itself into a pretend form of London where everything works, unlike in the fusty and creaking traditional City. Dizzying skyscrapers, incredibly plush office suites with everything on tap, underground shopping malls, an efficient high-level monorail, slick bars and drones in pinstripe suits galore. I find it hellish. Greenwich is more my cup of tea with its olde-wolde drinking houses, naval background, Germanic style brewery and wonderful markets. It’s just a shame its famous pie and mash shop closed a few months ago.

On Saturday, we headed in the opposite direction along the river and ended up in Barnes, at the Wetlands Centre, another place on our list of things to do before we move. It’s such a tranquil place – we simply could not get over the quiet of its lagoon. Perhaps we were lucky with the route of the Heathrow flightpath that day. All you could hear was the twitter and cries of the birds, who are of course the star attraction. Is it a sign of approaching old age that I found myself rushing with great excitement towards a three-storey bird hide? It was surprisingly relaxing to sit in silence with a pair of binoculars to see what you could discover with a bit of patience. Sand pipers, herons, cormorants and a strange tufted bird that none of us could identify – had we inadvertently discovered a rarity? One area of the site is given over to unusual species of duck and geese from around the globe, all of whom are breeding at the moment, the resultant bundles of fluff on webbed feet seriously enhancing the cuteness factor.

The city we are moving to, York, also has a beautiful river with a giant Ferris wheel called an Eye and a smattering of parks, ancient pubs and palaces on its banks, albeit of course on a less grandiose scale. And just as the Thames is tidal, the rivers in York are also known for their surging and variable heights, but more because of their terrible tendency towards flooding. It’s actually quite hard to find a house to buy that isn’t blacklisted on the Environment Agency’s flood maps. Thankfully though, walks along a steady, flowing, majestic river will continue to dominate our lives.

REBECCA