Canary Wharf – derrickjknight

A Knight’s Tale (85: I Was Stitched Up)

Runners in the London Marathon must run down The Mall, around the corner facing Buckingham Palace, and along Birdcage Walk to the finish, just out of sight, on Westminster Bridge.

Crossing St James’s Park’s Blue Bridge into Birdcage Walk in September 2012, I remembered my nephew, Peter Darby-Knight, bravely struggling to walk to the finish, having injured his knee, many years after my own London runs. I had also watched my granddaughter Emily, on two occasions, representing Croydon in the mini-marathon which takes place on the morning of the major event.

A flock of feral pigeons being fed by tourists reminded me of the mass start to the marathon in Greenwich. It takes ten minutes walking to reach the line, and quite a bit longer to find room to get into your stride. On one occasion I was tripped by a man who tried to pass me in this melee. I ran the race with blood trickling from my grazed knee. He also fell. I didn’t help him up.

In the first London race in 1981, Michael and I had watched the two leading men finish hand-in-hand as they crossed the line. Then, the taking part was all. Like the Olympics, that spirit has evaporated. Winning is all.

My son, who the following year would be eighteen, and therefore eligible to run, suggested we do it together. Taking up the idea in earnest, I trained for it. Thinking that, as a rugby-playing fast bowler, I was fit enough, my first session was a five mile run from Croyon College to our home in Furzedown. When I’d finished I could barely walk. I tottered stiffly down to the box at the bottom of Gracedale Road to post a letter. As I turned the corner on my return, who should be striding down the road but John Bussell. John was a neighbour who had said I was completely mad to contemplate the venture. Quick as a flash, I straightened up, denied my pain, and lengthened my step, to greet him.

Michael had more sense, so I ran the race alone. Despite the strenuous competition at the elite level, there are still many thousands of people for whom just taking part is a magnificent experience. I was fortunate enough to participate three times. Then, the Canary Wharf business complex was a heap of rubble. We wondered what was going to be built. The elation of running this race with the streets all lined with row upon row of cheering spectators can only be imagined by non-participants. Jazz bands are playing, and the world is watching on television. If you are thinking of trying it, do not accept one of the many pints of beer which will be proffered outside the pubs alongside. Rather, enjoy the hoses which may be played on you in hot weather.

Coming along The Embankment you will have your first sight of Big Ben. Your heart may sink when you realise you still have four more miles to go. Do not be tempted, as many are, to walk along the underpass where you cannot be seen. If you do, you are unlikely to start running again.

In 1982, Matthew and Becky ran along the footpath beside me towards the finish. That would not be possible now.

On that day in September 30 years later, entering the park opposite Buckingham Palace, a jogger, attempting to leap the low railings which form a border, tripped and went sprawling. Fortunately on the grass. Some years ago, en route to Victoria where I was to board a train to visit Wolf and Luci in Dulwich, I did something similar. Intending to run there from Harrow Road, in the darkness, off Edgware Road, I tripped on a chain closing off a church car park. I had thought I was still on the footpath. Back-pack in harness, my feet still attached to the chain, I came a right cropper. My hands firmly on the tarmac, I was unable to prevent myself from pivoting, head first onto the unyielding surface. The priest took me in, administered first aid, and called an ambulance; and Wolf and Luci visited me instead. In hospital, where I was being stitched up. I bear the scar to this day. Our meal was a little late that night.

Towards the end of 1983, Sam participated in a mini marathon organised by his nursery school in South West London’s Furzedown.

Even when supported by Becky and Jessica, Louisa didn’t think much of the idea of joining in.

Back Through The Barrier

CLICK ON ANY IMAGE IN A GROUP TO ACCESS ENLARGEMENTS IN GALLERIES

Today I scanned the final batch of colour negatives from Norman’s 70th birthday boat trip on 6th April 2002.

Some of these are from the start of the journey soon after we left Westminster Pier and people settled down to eat.

The Post Office Tower and St Paul’s Cathedral are each visible beyond Tower Bridge.

Norman mingled with his guests on the upper deck.

Yesterday I featured our arrival at the Thames Barrier, a short distance beyond which was the turning point from which we returned to the pier.

Passing back through the flood barrier gave us unique views of three of the capital’s iconic structures. Even for me it is surprising to establish that it is the barrier that at 35 years old is the most senior. The first buildings in Canary Wharf were completed in 1991, and the Millennium Dome just about managed to open on the last day of 1999. The politics.co.uk website opens its lengthy page on the Dome with:

‘The Millennium Dome was the centrepiece of British celebrations for the dawning of the year 2000.

Built on the site of the Meridian Line in north Greenwich – symbolising time – the Dome was, at the time of construction, the biggest dome in the world, occupying 300 acres of a formerly contaminated derelict gasworks. The former gasworks had been derelict for more than two decades and was the largest undeveloped site on the River Thames.

The Dome originally contained a theme park-cum-scientific exhibition entitled the ‘Millennium Experience’. This was a series of themed ‘zones’ representing concepts such as ‘money’ or ‘the body’, supported by live theatrical events throughout the day. The Millennium Experience closed on December 31 2000, and the Dome has since been sold to be converted into a 26,000 capacity entertainment and sports arena.’

There is much more about the controversy and financial mismanagement of what was, at the time, termed a ‘White Elephant’ on the highlighted website.

This afternoon Becky and Ian joined us for their Christmas visit which began with a meal at Lal Quilla. Service was as friendly and efficient as ever, and the food excellent. My choice of main course was king prawn Ceylon. Kingfisher and Diet Coke were the drinks consumed.

Paddling Along The Thames Part Two

CLICK ON ANY IMAGE IN EACH GROUP TO ACCESS ENLARGED GALLERIES

Today I scanned another batch of colour negatives from Norman’s 70th birthday party, the first part of which I featured yesterday.

Norman’s guests soon filled their plates with items from the splendid buffet on the lower deck.

They then wrapped themselves up in order to enjoy convivial company in the crisp, bright, open air on the upper level.

Norman engaged in his usual animated conversation.

Canary Wharf

As we passed Canary Wharf which dwarfs the older buildings standing nearer the river, I reflected that, whilst running my London marathons in the early 1980s, I, and others had tracked their flattened site when One Canada Square and its neighbours were still on the drawing board. Less than two decades ago we were speculating about what would be filling the spaceGoogle has this information, among other entries: ‘Canary Wharf is a busy financial area filled with skyscrapers like the glittering One Canada Square. Canada Square Park hosts summer concerts and a winter ice-skating rink, while the Museum of London Docklands draws families with model ships and hands-on displays. Casual cafes bustle during the day and, come evening, post-work crowds gather in stylish wine bars and pubs. Ferries called Thames Clippers ply the river.’

I wonder whether the red framed gas holder in this shot is still extant.

A stir of spectators, raising of binoculars, and expressions of wonder

Trinity House 6.4.02

as we passed Trinity House, heralded our approach to

Thames Barrier 6.4.02 1

The Thames Barrier.

The website of Trinity House offers the following information:

‘Trinity House is a charity dedicated to safeguarding shipping and seafarers, providing education, support and welfare to the seafaring community with a statutory duty as a General Lighthouse Authority to deliver a reliable, efficient and cost-effective aids to navigation service for the benefit and safety of all mariners.

The Corporation of Trinity House was incorporated by Royal Charter in 1514 to regulate pilotage on the River Thames and provide for aged mariners.

With a mandate that has expanded considerably since then, we are today the UK’s largest-endowed maritime charity, the General Lighthouse Authority (GLA) for England, Wales, the Channel Islands and Gibraltar and a fraternity of men and women selected from across the nation’s maritime sector.

Our long-standing familiarity with the channels, hazards, currents and markings of our coastline also qualify us to inspect and audit almost 11,000 local aids to navigation, license Deep Sea Pilots and provide Elder Brethren as Nautical Assessors to the Admiralty Court.

Per annum the charity donates around £4m to the charities we support. These include the provision of cadet training schemes, welfare provision for retired mariners and educational programmes teaching safety at sea skills.

Our mission

Our mission as a General Lighthouse Authority is to deliver a reliable, efficient and cost-effective aids to navigation service for the benefit and safety of all mariners.

Furthermore, as a charity we help to ensure that British commercial shipping is crewed by well-trained men and women and that mariners in need of all ages and backgrounds are supported in a number of ways either directly by us or through grants to other maritime charities and initiatives.

Trinity House works closely with a number of highly-regarded national and international organisations, including the Northern Lighthouse Board, the Commissioners of Irish Lights, the Maritime & Coastguard Agency, the UK Hydrographic Office and the International Association of Marine Aids to Navigation and Lighthouse Authorities (IALA) , to name just a few.

Our vision

Our vision is to be a trusted world class organisation and regarded as such by our stakeholders.

We work hard to ensure that we are valued as much for our work today as for our reputation earned through over five centuries of service.

Although we are proud of the reputation afforded us by our many centuries of dedication to the nation’s maritime infrastructure, we are a forward-facing organisation; it is our ability to meet new challenges and the changing requirements of the modern mariner that keeps us relevant and effective.

We will continue to support the maritime industry that moves up to 95% of the UK’s international trade, keeping the lifeblood of our economy moving safely and swiftly and ensuring the UK’s place in the 21st century global economy.

Marine operations

At the business end of Trinity House we operate a fleet of vessels, working in our waters at the highest levels of seamanship.

We have been operating in the waters around England, Wales and the Channel Islands since 1741, using purpose-built tonnage equipped to the highest technical standard and manned by professionally qualified officers and crew.

Coordinated and monitored around the clock by our Planning Centre, typical vessel activities include wreck location and marking, aid to navigation maintenance, towing, buoy handling and surveying.

Working at sea is unpredictable and inherently hazardous; to preserve the safety of the mariner we take measures to make sure we can respond effectively should an incident occur, working closely with our partners at the Department for Transport and the MCA. We have a vessel ready to respond within six hours of the Strait of Dover, carrying our instantly recognisable Emergency Wreck Marking Buoys.’

Concerning the Thames Barrier’s flood defences, extracts from a Guardian article of 19th February 2015 show that ‘The Environment Agency’s “at risk” list includes the Houses of Parliament, Whitehall, City Hall, Canary Wharf, Westminster Abbey, the Tower of London, Kew Gardens, the O2 Arena, 51 railway stations, 35 Underground stations, eight power stations, more than 1,000 electricity substations, 400 schools, 16 hospitals and over half a million of Greater London’s roughly 3.3 million homes – not to mention 1.5 million of its people. Large areas of Southwark, Lambeth, Tower Hamlets, Hammersmith, Fulham, Wandsworth, Barking, Dagenham, Woolwich and Newham could find themselves under water, along with many settlements along the estuary in Essex and Kent.’ Also that during the period from ‘early December 2013 to the end of February [2014], its steel gates were closed a record-shattering 50 times, preventing the river from running riot. Previously, the barrier had closed only 124 times since it began operating in 1982. The agency described this sharp increase in demand as a “blip” and, apart from routine testing, the barrier hasn’t been closed since. However, during its lifetime there’s been a strong, overall upward trend: it was closed four times in the 1980s, 35 times in the 90s, and 75 times in the 2000s. There have been 65 closures since 2010, suggesting this climb is continuing.’

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dvg2asACsG0&w=560&h=315]

[This 6 minute video graphically describes how the structure works.

This celebration will require possibly one more instalment.

Jackie produced succulent chicken in a Nando’s lemon marinade on a bed of peppers and onions, accompanied by new potatoes and green beans. She drank sparkling water and I finished the Pyrene.

The London Marathon

It being a much brighter day, I set off for Green Park, travelling by underground. As I left the flat, it began to rain. This proved to be nothing more than a shower. I thought I would walk around this public open space which, when we lived in Soho, was a local haunt. The station has been improved, now offering an exit straight into the park. For some reason which escapes me, I walked out into Piccadilly, turned right into St. James’s Street, down into The Mall, and across into St. James’s Park. This was where, nearly fifty years ago, I had first fallen in love with Jackie, when, seated on a bench, we had, in unison, both exclaimed ‘cannibal’ on seeing a pigeon pecking at the discarded shell of someone’s boiled egg. She may not agree, but to me that meant we at least shared a sense of humour. Runners in the London Marathon must run down The Mall, around the corner facing Buckingham Palace, and along Birdcage Walk to the finish, just out of sight, on Westminster Bridge. Entering the park, I witnessed a scramble of pigeons, in the demarcated feeding area, being fed by tourists. In fact, everywhere, especially in the fenced off designated wildlife section, people were photographing and feeding the livestock. I missed a wonderful photo opportunity when a young woman straightened up, having shot a squirrel. I asked her to repeat the photograph so that I could take a picture of her taking her picture. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortuitously, she didn’t understand English. For which she and her male companion were most apologetic.

Crossing the Blue Bridge into Birdcage Walk I remembered my nephew, Peter Darby-Knight, bravely struggling to walk to the finish, having injured his knee, many years after my own London runs. I had also watched my granddaughter Emily, on two occasions, representing Croydon in the mini-marathon which takes place on the morning of the major event. From the bridge I reprised a photograph I had first taken in the early 1960s. The scene is now dominated by The London Eye.

The pigeons mentioned earlier put me in mind of the mass start to the marathon in Greenwich. It takes ten minutes walking to reach the line, and quite a bit longer to find room to get into your stride. On one occasion I was tripped by a man who tried to pass me in this melee. I ran the race with blood trickling from my grazed knee. He also fell. I didn’t help him up.

My son, who the following year would be eighteen, and therefore eligible to run, suggested we do it together. Taking up the suggestion in earnest, I trained for it. Thinking that, as a rugby-playing fast bowler, I was fit enough, my first session was a five mile run from Croyon College to our home in Furzedown. When I’d finished I could barely walk. I tottered stiffly down to the box at the bottom of Gracedale Road to post a letter. As I turned the corner on my return, who should be striding down the road but John Bussell. John was a neighbour who had said I was completely mad to contemplate the venture. Quick as a flash, I straightened up, denied my pain, and lengthened my step, to greet him.

In 1982, Matthew and Becky ran along the footpath beside me towards the finish. That would not be possible now.

Today, entering the park opposite Buckingham Palace, a jogger, attempting to leap the low railings which form a border, tripped and went sprawling. Fortunately on the grass. Some years ago, en route to Victoria where I was to board a train to visit Wolf and Luci in Dulwich, I did something similar. Running there from Harrow Road, in the darkness, off Edgware Road, I tripped on a chain closing off a church car park. I had thought I was still on the footpath. Back-pack in harness, my feet still attached to the chain, I came a right cropper. My hands firmly on the tarmac, I was unable to prevent myself from pivoting, head first onto the unyielding surface. The priest took me in, administered first aid, and called an ambulance; and Wolf and Luci visited me instead. In hospital, where I was being stitched up. I bear the scar to this day. Our meal was a little late that night.

These days, I walk. It’s safer. As I did this afternoon, along Buckingham Palace Road to Victoria, where I boarded a tube train to begin my return to Morden. A blustery shower greeted me as I emerged from the underground and walked back to Links Avenue, listening to the rythmic sound of an empty Carlsberg can playing chicken amongst the traffic.

This evening, I served up a roast chicken meal. Jackie finished yesterday’s Kingfisher and I drank the last of the chianti.