Walking along the Albert Embankment

I lived in London as a student - I had a room in International Hall, just off Russell Square - Mrs Bandaranaike's son attended the same lectures as I did - he had a puffy face and two bodyguards - they sat behind him in the Anatomy Theatre -

In the summer, I sat on the grass, under the plane trees in the square - I could see the elaborate red facade of the Hotel Russell - I revised for my finals here - I can remember reading, with great enjoyment, The Age of the Railway, lying on my back under the London sky - I wrote in fountain pen for my finals - urgent lines spilled over the paper -

I used to walk down Charing Cross Road, skulking in the bookshops - I loitered in Soho - I sought out a secret London, one which I still treasure -

Sometimes, I thought I was walking in a dream - the courtyards, twilight streets, empty parks, the noble buildings - everything I saw was full of hidden meaning -

During the winter, looking through my window, I would see the thin figure of loneliness skipping down the pavement of Bernard Street -

Recently, I walked down the Albert Embankment - I was on my way to see the pre raphaelite show at the Tate Britain - it was a wonderful bright morning - glass towers shone in the sky - I could see the Thames brimful of light -

There were fallen leaves scattered upon the riverside walk - elegant lamp posts lined the balustrade - I marvelled at the shape and beauty of the leaves - I looked at the stern elfin face of Violet Szabo - I saw the grave, bearded, face of a river god -

I looked again at the fragile leaves, heaped upon the pale stone - how beautiful they were - I thought they were like the years we shed so carelessly -