Achey breaky feet

Yesterday was a bit of a mistake. See, as part of my weight loss programme, I’m trying to exercise more. Therefore, yesterday I decided to go on a nice long walk. No particular aim other than to burn some calories.

I find most forms of exercise a bit of a pain in the old behind. Not  because they’re tiring, but because they’re so dull. Lifting weights? Well, why did you put them on the floor in the first place, idiot? Football? Well, if you’d just stop running around and took it in turns to kick, you could score a lot more goals. Walking, on the other hand, is great. I get to know the city better and I can find lots of interesting things on the way.

There’s a funny little alleyway near where I live. In nearly four years of being in Colliers Wood, I have never been down there. So that’s what I did. I discovered that it brought me out alongside the river Wandle. It’s not a bad walk, if you don’t mind hideously ugly industry and relative isolation. Which most people do. So, er.

After walking for simply aaaages, I came back to the main road, and found myself in Earlsfield. “Well,” I thought, “this isn’t far from home at all. I shall keep walking… TO THE END OF THE WANDLE!” Lightning flashed at that point for reasons I am at a loss to explain.

So I followed the back streets and came to King George Park, where the path rejoins the river. This brought me out in Wandsworth, where the river ends. I had a bit of a stroll around, a bit of an explore. And then I saw a sign pointing me to Fulham. Now, I’ve passed through Fulham several times, but not on foot.

So, out of curiosity, I crossed Wandsworth Bridge. I found… well, mostly what I found was suburbia. I did find a wicked-awesome derelict factory, though, and took several photos. I won’t subject you to all of them, fear not, but you can have some of them.

And I just sort of ended up walking on and on. Through Fulham, on to Hammersmith and ultimately on to Shepherd’s Bush. I have a couple of chums here who have appeared in these pages before, and gave them a bell to suggest meeting up. I suspect I did not present the best picture, being completely sweaty and ‘orrible, not to mention babbling insanely due to endorphines (incidentally, excellent way to get high if you’re into that sort of thing).

We had dinner at a place called Fire and Stone in the Westfield Centre. If you’re not familiar with Fire and Stone, it’s a really rather far-out pizza place where more-or-less anything edible can end up on your pizza. For instance, I went with the ‘New York’, which included crispy smoked bacon, roast potatoes, caramelised onions and sour cream. Another that caught my eye was the ‘London’, featuring bacon, egg, sausage and black pudding. Yes, basically breakfast on a pizza.

I resisted dessert and took the last Central Line tube from White City, the idea being to change at Notting Hill Gate on to the District Line to Wimbledon and bus it from there. Except that Notting Hill Gate was closed for refurbishment. It’s all very well telling people to consult the TfL website when planning their journey, but I rarely know where I’m going to end up. So I got out at Holland Park and walked up to Paddington. From there, a couple of night buses home. Ooh, me aching feet.

Anyway, here are some random psychogeographical-type photos documenting the journey from Shepherd’s Bush on.


1 Comment

Filed under Buildings and architecture, Food, Geography, Kensington, London, Notting Hill, Photos, Psychogeography, Rambling on and on, Randomness, Suburbia, Thames, Transport, West End

One response to “Achey breaky feet

  1. Pingback: Why I Am Not A Motorist | London Particulars

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