Not quite an every-day walk this in my new tradition, because it was very cold and marvelously foggy, and Limehouse isn’t at all ordinary I don’t think, even when it tries.
It’s not at all surprising to me that it has gentrified the way it has, because those old warehouse buildings are beautiful. This whole area along the Thames breathes a history now picturesque, as the poverty suffered by the dockers who once lived and worked here has been erased by a succession of Labour governments since the turn of the century.
Memories of old pubs fill this area — as they do the memories of the handful of men who frequent the old boozers still remaining and mourn what was.
There is, however, to my knowledge only one remnant of wall with an awesome door that goes nowhere.
I love this street
And mourn arriving at the fortressed luxury that has been built all along the river…I seek a metaphor and fail.
It is best when the mist hides them…
But there is no doubt to what I prefer:
Turning back to head East again, there is the old under the looming weight and wealth of the new:
The West India Docks…I have strong feelings about this place, but I will save them. The museum is good, I visited the floor on slavery and couldn’t do anything else after, it is most powerful. Then you come out and the restaurant is called Rum and Sugar. You stare at the wealth of Canary Wharf — the latest form of global exploitation and destruction — and you despair.