Since our visit to the zoo a few weekends ago more of the Into Africa exhibit area was open. I spotted same rather vicious-looking hyena/dog type creatures in an enclosure bordering the other side of the canal. The giraffes would be much more suited to a gentle stroll by the river. On seeing the Snowdon Aviary I did burst into song myself – a quick rendition of 'Kookaburra sits on the old gum tree'.




Camden Lock was more pleasing on the eye than I had perhaps imagined although there was a group of 16 year old German tourists conducting a love-in on the banks of the canal.
Boats are not immune to the money-making schemes of councils – mooring for the 'stop and shop' is limited to four hours – 'charges apply thereafter'.






(Pat, all I can say here is Dan Flavin, eat your heart out!)



It was strange to approach St Pancras from the canal. The gasometer and the tower were familiar but from a very different angle.

There was very little noise on my walk. The only real exceptions being the reggae pumped out of the Global Express warehouse, the platform announcements from the Marylebone Station and the drilling from the building site at King's Cross. I thought the worker's carrier bags pegged to a string in the window of one of the mobile huts rather touching – and a wonderful source of practical jokes.

I felt slightly unnerved as I approached the crowds in Islington. The atmosphere was so different from that of the waterside. Chapel Street market is a gem where the old and the new meet. On one side of the street is M. Manzes live and jellied eels, on the other the trendy euphorium bakery.

The guidebook describes the walk from Warwick Avenue to Angel but mentions the possibility of continuing to Limehouse. I was unsure until I got going. I was so full of life that there was no way I was stopping short. Until it started pouring with rain. I took shelter under a tree at St Pancras when it was at it's worst and trudged my way to Islington. Undaunted I stopped for a coffee in the hope the cloud would clear. It did me no such favours and I resignedly decided to bail out. Another four miles in the rain would be foolish given my recent health scares (although I do believe that the idea you are automatically going to catch cold in the rain is a load of poppycock).

Disappointed, I didn't want to rush home so decided that whatever the first bus was at the stop on the other side of the road I was jumping on it to its destination. I was fortunate. The 30 to Marble Arch. Followed by the 23 to Liverpool Street and the 8 to Bow. And the District Line home.