Under & over

Strange how the road just comes to an end - from one circular to another with an apparently optimistic queue of cars.

Exploring that is for the way back though: I have a rather ancient shortcut. Lifts are of course out of order but it appears I'm alone: nothing but the drip drip and then distant shouts. These shouts are slowly given form from the feet upwards due to the inverse arc of the tunnel beneath the great river above. CCTV cameras seem irrelevant: this is not somewhere to be on a Saturday afternoon, let alone what it must be like on a Saturday night.

Coming back up for un-stale air I have indeed beaten the queuing cars but perfect timing for my return trip. This curious throwback, the only one left in London, is considered an extension to the 'Streets' and managed as such even to the logo adorning the chimney.

In the bowels of this workforce the great unrefined diesel engines thunder away, painted white metal meeting polished wood. Not quite Hong Kong or New York but it does the job in a surprisingly balletic turn across the stage towards another patient queue.