April 19, 2004
We Like The Bridge • On Aime Le Pont
Coz it is close to us.

More seriously, I believe the Albert Bridge is my favorite among the many ways to get from one side of the Thames to the other. That bridge has something of a boat (I guess that will be obvious for anybody who ever crossed it on foot) which certainly makes sense, as far as river crossing is concerned anyway.

(Incidentally, yes it is close to us. Hardly two minutes walk really. Okay, make it five. Anyway. I was told that Kylie Minogue is somewhere in the area as well, but she seems to be far less visible than the Albert Bridge, for some reason. Oh well.)
 Shot in Great Britain by the dissident frogman @ April 19, 2004 01:30 AM  • 

Comments :: Commentaires

But not the Natural History Museum (pout). It IS a cool city, isn't it (smirk of London Pride). 'Twenty bridges from Tower to Kew/(Twenty bridges or twenty-two)/Wanted to know what the River knew/For they were young and the Thames was old/And this is the Tale that the River told:/'I walk my beat before London Town/Five hours up and seven down/Up I go till I end my run/At Tide-End Town which is Teddington/Down I come with the mud in my hands/And plaster it over the Maplin Sands/But I'd have you know that these waters of mine/Were once a branch of the River Rhine/When hundreds of miles to the East I went/And England was joined to the Continent/I remember the bat-winged lizard birds/The Age of Ice and the Mammoth herds/And the giant tigers that stalked them down/Through Regent's Park into Camden Town/And I remember like yesterday/The earliest Cockney who came my way/As he pushed through the forests that lined the Strand/With paint on his face and a club in his hand/He was death to feather and fin and fur/He trapped my beavers at Westminster/He netted my salmon, he hunted my deer/He killed my heron off Lambeth Pier/He fought his neighbour with axes and swords/Flint or bronze at my upper fords/While down at Greenwich for slaves and tin/The tall Phoenician ships blew in/And North Sea war-boats, painted and gay/Flitted like dragon-flies Erith way/And Norseman and Negro and Gaul and Greek/Drank with the Britons in Barking Creek/And life was gay and the world was new/And I was a mile across at Kew/But the Romans came with a heavy hand/And bridged and roaded and ruled the land/And the Romans left and the Danes blew in/And that's where your history-books begin!' (Kipling)
The English Tourist Board will now sign off. sorry. It has to be my favourite London poem.

 Fired by Ysabel Jehan Howard @ April 29, 2004 11:48 PM