London is a tessellation of ages – layers and twists of time that wind around and through each other, rising to sheer glass heights and falling again to uncover sudden surprises.
You find them when you least expect to.
St Dunstan-in-the-East dates from 1100, once a CofE parish church on St Dunstan’s Hill, halfway between London Bridge and the Tower. I found it purely by accident and stood there, transfixed, watching the suits eat their lunch on the benches and the sun reflect rom the glittering sides of the Gherkin, which rises above the walls.
And then, while roaming Hyde Park in search of eggs, I found fairies – the stump of the Elfin Oak itself is every bit as old as St. Dunstan’s, though its inhabitants weren’t added until ’77.
And if that’s not enough fascinating but useless information, the inside cover of Pink Floyd’s 1969 album Ummagumma features a picture of David Gilmour stood in front of it…
You never realise how astounding the city is until you walk. The centre of London is not as big, or as confusing, as you expect. And there are wonders waiting.
Seriously, use your feet. And your eyes.