england
An English Winter Vacation Along the River Thames
Where: London and Leigh-on-Sea. England, United Kingdom. Europe.
When: January 2025
What: Winter walk along the England Coast Path, St. Clement's Church, Old Leigh cobbles and cockle sheds, Osborne's Seafood Merchants, London's South Bank, Big Ben, River Thames, St. Paul's Cathedral, Palace of Westminster, Soho.
How: International flight, walking, taxi, London Underground (tube).
Country counter: No.1
Illnesses or mishaps: Walking 5kms of the England Coast Path in temperatures of -5 degrees causing my beard to freeze.
Writing about your home country with the objectivity of a travel writer requires a degree of cognitive estrangement. Nevertheless, I will endeavour to try. Seeing as I was born here, England was, arguably, my first experience of a country and ipso facto my first ever experience of travel. It had been more than two years since I had last stepped foot on British soil and so I boarded my flight from Sydney to London, via Singapore, with both trepidation and excitement.
There's something about the motherland which is magnetic, pulling you towards her wherever you are in the world. She comes to you in your sleep. You can see her places in your mind's eye, places imbued with meaningful memories and pivotal moments in your life. No matter how far you travel and no matter how long you stay away, you will return. All roads eventually lead to home. I have often theorised that, no matter how hard you try, you can never detach yourself from the metaphorical umbilical cord which binds you to the native land and so returning to your country's embrace is as inevitable as night follows day and as natural as a mother holding her baby. And so it was with me. A journey home is travel with depth.
Much is written about home as a concept. I know from my experience as a dual national that what constitutes home is complex, that it transcends mere physicality. In short, home is spiritual. As the old maxim goes, "home is where the heart is" - a laudable attempt to convey that home is not determined by mere geography, but by the human soul. The paradox at play here is that emigrating has, unexpectedly, brought me closer to home. Through the act of moving away, I feel more connected to the United Kingdom than ever before. I look at the country where I was born with renewed appreciation, I see its faults and shortcomings with exquisite clarity and beam with pride when I consider the facets which make it unique and which distinguish it from other places. I adore its quirks, peculiarities and eccentricities - features of the nation which were hitherto hidden from me due to my ignorance, immersed, as I was, in the culture which created them. Despite my Australian Citizenship status and having lived in Australia, at time of writing, for more than eight years, I am more British now than I have ever been. I now understand the concept of "heritage", an understanding which enriches my life and enables me to empathise with travellers, immigrants, emigrants and interlopers profoundly.
I based myself in the town of Leigh-on-Sea in a small apartment overlooking the Thames Estuary and which came with a spiriting view of the 15th Century Saint Clement's Church. Its bell would chime on the hour during daylight, would clang slowly and mournfully during funeral processions and ring out across the streets with a uplifting, energetic fanfare several times a week - including the obligatory Sunday morning. The small town of Leigh-on-Sea, often abbreviated by locals to just "Leigh", has one of the best high streets in the country having avoided the scourge of boarded up shops and abandoned retail units. The sweeping shopping parade is populated by scores of independent shops, quirky little businesses, coffee shops and charity shops. Indeed, it was the latter in which I was to spend a notable proportion of my time sifting through rails of second-hand clothing. All in all, I returned to Sydney with a pair of jeans, a hooded top with giant daisies on it, a jumper featuring a graphic of Betty Boop, a short-sleeved shirt with colourful pelicans on it, a dress shirt covered in flowers and a waterproof-windproof jacket for hiking for my future self to wear and enjoy. In short, the charity shops in Leigh were, as far as I was concerned, a sartorial treasure trove.
My mornings along the Thames were nothing short of spiritual. I would awake early, brew a coffee to go in my flask and walk down the the small public beach on the banks of the estuary. At this early hour the mighty River Thames' waters were still in tide, and would take to lapping darkly at the shore with small wavelets, like hands, grasping at the spits jutting out into the river. All the while the mournful song of seagulls above spoke loudly of this as a place of coast and of water. I would often continue my walk down to Old Leigh, a cobbled street affair with wooden-panelled buildings, cockle shed, dangling Union Jack flags and traditional lanterns. A more Dickensian scene you will not see in all the world. A saunter down the cobbles of Old Leigh is a trip into an English yesteryear. I don't wish to spoil the image I am creating in your mind but the traditional lanterns are modern LED-lit affairs deliberately selected to help preserve a sense of Essex heritage but, with a slight blurring of the eyes, it is just possible to imagine that these lanterns are gas lit. It is sometimes an illusion painfully punctured by the occasional early morning jogger darting around you, a woman walking her two dogs, both of whom are wearing flashing dog collars or the sight of the odd TV aerial. Well, you can't have everything. Signage for fish, a red telephone box and chips and the 'Strand Tea Rooms' complete this as a pastiche of perfect old Englishness. On one magical morning in minus 5 degrees, the rooftops of this scene were dusted in the magical whitening of frost. I hesitate to say "chocolate box image" but, well, that description would be both cliché and entirely apt. Most mornings I walked to the end of Old Leigh, where the cobbles give way to tarmac and to the present day, to pick up some Whelks, Rollmops, Cockles and Jellied Eels from the famous Osborne's Seafood Merchants as a gift for my parents. My return to the little apartment, ascending the steep steps of Leigh Hill, was often to the soundtrack of sparrows and blackbirds - a more elegant, delicate morning chorus than that of Sydney's maniacal, laughing kookaburras, pterodactyl-like magpies and the chattering screeches of fruit bats.
I've dreamed of visiting London for years. As I cycle to and from work through the streets of Australia's most populous city, my thoughts repeatedly drift to London. I am a devout listener to a particular podcast from BBC Radio London. It comes complete with London-centric weather and traffic reports. I have often marvelled at the absurdity of this: cycling through Sydney's macho ute-filled traffic, sweaty temperatures and sunshine lasering my eyeballs while news of an accident on the North Circular and warnings of an early morning frost - so be prepared to scrape off your cars or wear an extra layer plays in my ears. I have always had a special relationship with London and so I determined that I owed it to myself to spend a day in the city the next time I was in the country. A day all to myself just to be at one with a city that speaks to me like no other place. It had been too long - some six years. My mere missing the city had long morphed into a deep yearning and sadness.
Early morning at Old Leigh: a pastiche of everything British.
travel tips, links & resources
- It is easy to navigate London on the 'The Tube' without the need for an official Oyster Card; like many big cities, public transport can now be paid for by using a standard credit or debit card.
- Leigh-on-Sea and south east Essex are well served by train lines direct from London Fenchurch Street and run several times per hour. Leigh-on-Sea is approximately 60kms east of London and the journey takes around 45minutes by train.
- Checkout out the Visit Southend page for Leigh-on-Sea here.
- You can follow my adventures Down Under in Australia by reading my Australia Blog here.
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