On a hill

Jenny and I took some friends around the Rotherhithe peninsula yesterday, cutting through Russia Dock Woodlands and finally climbing Stave Hill.

From the top of Stave Hill you can appreciate just how flat London geography really is. The Hill’s not very high—30 feet, according to Wikipedia (and the base is barely above sea level)—but you can easily see the lipstick tower at Elephant and Castle, the London Eye peeking around the glistening slops of Mount Doom (I think you mean the Shard—Ed), the Orbit at the Olympic Park, and even, on a clear day—again according to Wikipedia—Wembley Park ten miles away. The Isle of Dogs, that ever-expanding monument to Mammon, dominates the eastern skyline.

But yesterday, for a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of what London might have been were the Square Mile a mediaeval hill fort, or built on the slopes of a cliff leading to warmer seas.

In the glass of 20 Fenchurch Street, better known as the Walkie Talkie, I could see the City reflected. And because of the sloping sides of the skyscraper, the illusion is that Fenchurch and Aldgate are climbing up towards the impenetrable heights of Wapping Fortress.

There might be a movie in there, somewhere.