My dear Mette and I have once again been treading the streets of the metropolis during her recent visit.
A particular delight was to head towards the river and - before attending the Globe Theatre for their current production of Marlowe's 'Doctor Faustus' that evening - wet our feet in the sands and silt of the shore at Bankside. Twenty feet below the tourist yackety- yack outside the Tate, the noise drops away and there's the whiff of age, the uneasy creaking of decay and the mutter of the water.
Warmth under frowning clouds.
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