Took a long walk into town yesterday after an initial bit of indecision as to how tired I was gonna feel and whether it was worth it. Weather yesterday was windy with fast moving clouds rollin' across the London sky but the clouds were stacked in banks so behind them just lay another bunch and then another bunch with no hint of any blue sky. But that was OK because the temperature was good, warm in fact, and in comparison to what it has been like for some periods this winter it was positively beautiful. I was also to be thankful that the clouds did not produce any rain, I mean I more or less ran the gauntlet the whole time I was out but somehow the rain held off.
Yesterday was Saturday so in the morning first thing I had things to do like go over to Ilford to drop off a bunch of shirts at my favourite Muslim dry cleaners, then drop into the office for a couple of things that needed sorting and also I had to leave the car on the fifth floor of the Ilford Exchange car park in order for it to have a clean and valet by the Poles. Guess it all worked out pretty well and by 11 or so I was back in Woodford with a couple of chicken tikka masalas from M&S which were on special offer at half price, and a couple of Danish pastries for a late breakfast. I got back home made a large mug of tea and then quaffed those pastries down in about two minutes flat, caveman style which meant that after not very long at all my gut was nicely full. Thunk. Then did stuff in the house for about an hour or so as I needed to get things more or less in shape for Tamdin's return from India tomorrow. Yeah, all those things which seemed so important to do at the time and which are now, barely tewnty hours after I did them running around busy as a bee, so goddam hard to recall.
It was just after 12 when I was out again, down to Woodford tube for the ride into town. Sat on the tube with the last part of David Copperfield to read and in the back of my mind tried to decide which stop to get off at, how long I was gonna walk for and stuff like that. Buzzin', buzzin', in the back of my mind. Jumped off the train at Bethnal Green which turned out to be a good decision. As soon as I hit the high road for the walk due west down to Brick Lane I told myself that I had to walk slowly or at least slower than the usual fast pace that I set myself. Reason for this was simply that I knew my energy reserves were low and that if I set off too fast I would pay the price later. Pay the price big time, like getting back home and having to go to bed for a couple of hours because mt body was completely and utterly fucked.
So glad I had the presence of mind to do this, and almost straiught away I was seemingly able to observe so much more by walking at this slower pace and not only that it also felt so much more natural. I was able to take in more of the local Bethnal Green scene, a fascinating melting pot of East End London if ever there was one that is for sure. I have always had a good feeling about Bethnal Green; it is inner city of course but for me at least it never feels oppressive. Dunno why but I think it might have something to do with the fact it is so close to the City, that is the real City of London, where incredible history and amazing buildings lie as markers to the cosmos, and at the weekend it has a powerful sense of space and emptiness that is hard to find anyplace else. Not only that, but you can also reach the river through the backstreets and suddenly find yourself in a different world entirely. So it is good, Bethnal Green is good, strangely different from Whitechapel which is pretty close but a lot more sinister.
Going along Brick Lane which by the time I reached it must have been just after one or so, I dropped into Rough Trade to see if they had any Orb or Chemical Brothers going cheap. Funny thing happened there in store as the day before I had been down to Foyles bookshop in the middle of town to hand over some information on new books to Kenny, the guy I know there who works in the Foyles religious department. When I had gone into Folyes Kenny had been crouching on the floor picking a bunch of books from a lower shelf. He got up when I said his name and we then had a good chat about how things were going as far as our part of the book trade was going. We talked particularly about the evils of the internet in the form of the dreaded Amazon and all the punk ass little books sellers who exist on Amazon supposedly as partners or some shit like that and who were selling stuff for next to nothing. Felt warm towards Kenny as we had our chat and I could see from his face that for him, just as for so many others in the countless millions of people in London, life was probably a bit of a struggle when it came to negotiating the hazards of survival both spiritual and physical in 21st century urban living.
So, I walked into the Rough Trade store and right there crouching down at the bottom of one of the CD racks was Kenny! Couldn't believe it, I just couldn't believe it. The funny thing was that I was aware of a presence there in that space, a familiar presence and just before I looked down I had the complete and utter certainty that it would be Kenny. Guess I felt confused and I didn't say anything to him as I knew that he had not seen me and it would just be too damn awkward for me to introduce myself to again this time in a different but still strangely familiar situation.
In our conversation from the day before we talked for a while about the changing landscape around that part of Charing X Road where Foyles was situated and the fact that the Astoria, a kind of famous music venue, had been now been knocked down. I had mentioned to Kenny that I had seen Augustus Pablo play there in the 1980s and he had seemed well impressed with that. Oh man, that now seemed a long time ago! Augustus Pablo, Junior Delgado and whole posse of reggae rastas who had flown in across the big, big waters straight from Jamaica. It truly had been an incredible show, the bass, the bass...!! And now, the next day here was me and Kenny again. Weird, no doubt about it. These things happen I guess, strange conincidences, karmic echoes from out of the realms of the very strange. All that I could do was silently observe this situation which had briefly come about, and then quietly move on. Felt even more tender towards Kenny as a consequence of seeing him there crouching down between the CD racks. There he was on his day off checking out the music, unless of course he happened to work at Rough Trade at the weekends. There was always that possibility I suppoose.
Got down to the river at London Bridge, north side of the Thames and one of my favourite entrance points to be by the fast flowing waters. As always, I was blown away by the sight of the Thames. Does it to me every time. Soon began to recite my Green Tara mantras and walk as close to the river as i could, tight up against the wall above the waters. No doubt in my mind that Ackroyd is right when he calls the Thames a divine feminine. It is, and that is why I only ever recite Green Tara prayers when I am walking beside it. I love it, love it so much I cannot even begin to describe how joyful it makes me feel. North, always the north bank these days, so much better than the south and all the crowds, so much darker too with so many little pathways and tunnels you have to negotiate, but of course the important thing for a loner, a solitary ghost such as me is that there is so much less people.
The tide was low, there used to be a time when I was disappointed if I got down to the river and the waters were not flowing full. Not anymore. These days I now think that I actually prefer it when the waters are low and it is possible to get down the steps and and walk along the shore. The feminine again, as you can really feel the power of the moon as it pulls the vast amounts of water in and out a couple of times a day, and in the process so radically changes what it is that you are looking out upon when you find yourself down there. Sucking those waters in and out again a couple of times a day, every day. The difference between high tide and low tide on the Thames is great, sometimes over twenty feet.
Yesterday it was low, pretty close to as low as it can be I guess. Walking along the north back with the strong but warm westerly winds blowing in my face, and looking out at the swirls of the brown muddy waters with the usual river traffic plying trade right down the middle was all pretty fantastic. Think I must have been in good tongue yesterday because the Green Tara mantras spilled outta me with hardly any effort, guess I was inspired, guess I was even getting close to feeling holy, religious, whatever it is you want to call it. Kept stopping and staring down at the river show below me; the debris washed up from out of the waters...a traffic cone, a skateboard, a lorry tyre... all kinds of stuff and of course there were the sands, the stones, the ancient wooden barge beds and remains of Roman wharfes poking up out of the water. All looked good to me, everything. Especially enjoyed looking over the south side and the sands, the clean sands by the river there, so much sand that it could be a beach. I was happy that I was still walking slower as well, if it had been colder then I probably would have had to have speeded up because things are often rougher by the river but the temperature was still pleasent and even with the wind blowin' I was still able to keep it slow.
Stuck close to the river all the way down to Embankment Gardens when I then crossed the road and walked through the gardens on my way up to the Strand, across the road to St Martins and on to the bottom of Charing X Road. Always feels unique to me, Embankment Gardens; they are so close to the river so that they have a sense of being really quite different from other London parks, but at the same time they still feel far away from the Thames because you cannot actually see the waters. Seems to me that you get people in there who look like they have no other place to go. Sad looking people with big rucksacks, I see them there sitting on the park benches staring at the ground, lost in their thoughts but probably only really wanting someone to talk to. It seems as if the river has almost sucked them down to that point. Think that kind of thing has no doubt gone on for hundreds and hundreds of years.
By the time i hit Charing X Road and Leceister Square things were getting decidedly busy, pavement space was hard to find, different scene entirely to what I had just come out of. Now there was an intense concentration of people and it was clear that a lot of them suffered from varying degrees of disorientation due to the fact that they were clearly tourists and obviously all was new to them. Time for me to step up a gear and to make my way through the crowds as seamlessly but as quickly as possible. No point anymore in hanging around. Dropped into Fopp! to pick up a Chemical Brothers cd for only 3 quid which pleased me and then hit Foyles to buy a Penguin Classics copy of Great Expectations. Felt so fortunate that I was now into Dickens; a great London power if ever there was one. Awesome, nuthin' less. Stepping out of Foyles I snaked my way through Soho and along to John Lewis where I bought a nice blue bathrobe for Tamdin. That was it now, mission accomplished and the only things to do then was carry on west down Oxford Street to the Bond Street tube and the train back out east to Woodford.
Must have got back to Woodford around 4:45. Already dark, still only mid-Jan after all. Got in and sorted out the stuff I had bought, then brewed myself a cowboy coffee from what was left in the jar from this morning. Sat down and finished David Copperfield, only thing to say about it is that it is one of the best books that I have ever read. Early evening I managed a 45 minute meditation, better than the last few sessions which have been really tough going, before coming downstairs and having a couple of beers which for some reason I did not enjoy as much as I thought I was going to. Dunno why that was, maybe I needed a bit of company, after all it was Saturday night and this life that I lead does have moments of lonlieness, there aint no about that. Jus' ghostin' along...anyway Tamdin will be back tomorrow, all the way from India, land of the Om vibration.
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