London calling.
London Walks connecting.
This… is London.
This is London Walks.
Streets ahead.
Story time. History time.
Top of the morning to you London Walkers. Wherever you are.
It’s Tuesday, August 12th, 2025.
As always, the London Book Club Corner to get us started. If the Book Club Corner is a game of musical chairs the London Walks guide who’s left standing today is Kevin Flude, our emeritus London Museum archaeologist. And it maybe won’t come as a surprise what Kevin’s reading. Over to Kevin: “I’m reading Mythos: the Greek Myths Retold by Stephen Fry. It’s a fairly comprehensive look at Greco-Roman Deities. It’s an enjoyable read and what I’m trying to get out of it is an understanding of how this bunch of thugs, rapists and strong women made a convincing religion.”
And what I’ve got out of that Kevin is that’s another one that’s got to go on my personal Must Read list. We’ll compare notes. Many thanks.
Moving on. Today is of course ‘the glorious 12th’ as it’s known. The opening of the grouse season. Which will have a nearly four-month run. Until December 10th. Here’s what an American made of it 150 years ago.
“Do any of my readers know why the British Parliament invariably adjourns just before the 12th of August? Because, if the session continued beyond that date, both Houses would be left without a quorum…On the 12th of August the shooting season is inaugurated, and for days, if not weeks, previous the minds of a large mass of the titled and wealthy classes are occupied, to the exclusion of almost everything else, in preparation for the moors.”
The American visitor then hands over to his English host, who says: ‘This game killing is a sort of solemn duty with us squires; we go through it in the usual sad manner of Englishmen enjoying themselves; indeed, a real game-keeping squire, who lives for nothing else (and there are many of this class), is one of the curious creations of modern civilisation’…”
Back to Mr Wilson, the American. He had to see for himself. Here’s what he saw.
“After a capital afternoon’s shooting we again assemble at half past six at a farm-yard, where the carriage is waiting for us. As each party came in the bags were emptied, and the result of the day’s sport was spread out before us, the grouse being placed in lines of twenty, with the hares and snipe in the rear, and summing up as follows: 264 grouse, seven hares, and eight snipe.”
So now you know. More than you probably want to know about ‘the glorious 12th.’
Moving on. Main course time.
Yesterday we bowed out with a great poem. Today, we’re going to get things started with an even greater poem. In fact, I think this is the greatest poem ever written about London. It’s by William Blake. It’s called London.
Here you go.
London
I wander thro’ each charter’d street,
Near where the charter’d Thames does flow.
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infant’s cry of fear,
In every voice: in every ban,
The mind-forg’d manacles I hear
How the Chimney-sweepers cry
Every blackning Church appalls,
And the hapless Soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls
But most thro’ midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlot’s curse
Blasts the new-born Infant’s tear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.
I used to teach the poem. I suppose I still do teach it in a sense. It’s usually the poem that kicks off my occasional walk, London in Poetry. A couple of points I make about it: That verb in the first line: I wander…
There must be getting on for 200 synonyms for the verb walk, as in move through a city. Stroll, saunter, promenade, stride, traipse, stumble, tiptoe, trek, march, amble, hobble, waddle, strut, limp, stagger, swagger, perambulate, tramp… the list is endless. And they all convey, roughly, the same idea. But none of them is as spot on as Blake’s choice, wander. For starters you can hear the off-rhyme, wonder. But it also suggests that he’s a little bit lost, a little dazed, more than a little bit amazed.
And then, when a poet repeats a word, that should be like a lantern in a lighthouse. You can set your course by it. Look closely at the words he repeats. Weigh them up. Savour them. They’re your handholds for making your thrilling climb up the face of this Everest of London poems. For example, the word, charter’d. It’s each charter’d street…and charter’d Thames. That repetition, they’re like drum beats. The word hits home even harder precisely because Blake repeats it. Or the word mark. And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe. He uses it three times in two lines. And of course, like an artist, which Blake was, he could have used another dab of colour, another word, rather than the word mark. He could have said I notice in every face I meet notices of weakness, notices of woe. But it doesn’t cut it does it. Marks of weakness, marks of woe…is thrillingly perfect. The only possible word. It’s like a tuning fork. It sounds. And it goes on reverberating. Not least because it – and it only – summons up, brings to mind the biblical “mark of Cain.”
And what about mind-forg’d manacles. How that line resonates, teases us out of thought. Forg’d as in the blacksmith’s forge. The clang of the hammer on the iron on the anvil. The manacles being hammered out. And the crackling and blaze of the fire. The heat of course. The hiss of the iron going in the water. But that word ‘forg’d’ draws us up. It’s a showstopper. Yes, forg’d as in forge. But forged also means make or produce something’s that’s fraudulent. A counterfeit. A forgery. With that verb – it’s the one and only handhold on this part of the climb – with that word, that verb Blake is suggesting the chains we put ourselves in come from our minds. And it doesn’t have to be this way. The manacles of our outlook and our feelings and social relationships and organisation – we’re doing this to ourselves. It comes from us. And it’s a forgery. Doesn’t have to be. We make our own manacles.
But if I had to single out one stanza – if I could take just one stanza with me to a desert island – it would be the third stanza:
How the Chimney-sweeper’s cry
Every blackning Church appalls;
And the hapless Soldier’s sigh–
Runs in blood down Palace walls.
It’s a miracle of artistic creation. The fancy word for what Blake’s doing – beyond brilliantly – in this stanza is
synesthesia.
The dictionary definition of synesthesia is
a neurological condition where stimulation of one sense triggers experiences in another sense. For example, a person with synesthesia might see colors when they hear sounds, or taste flavors when they speak different words.
So Blake sees what he hears. He hears the chimney sweeper’s cry – Sweep Your Chimneys, Sweep Your Chimneys – and that cry somehow makes the coal-smoke blackened church even blacker, even filthier. It’s not every blackened church. It’s every blackning church. And then that extraordinary word with which he ends that line: appalls. Appall means to greatly dismay or horrify. But a pall is of course also of course a cloth spread over a coffin at a funeral. And you can also hear the off-rhyme pallor. Pallor means an unhealthy pale appearance. So the chimney sweeper’s cry – an important part of the experience of London – the protagonist of the poem – the individual who’s wandering through London, experiencing it, taking note of it, hears that cry but he also sees it. And it simultaneously blackens and whitens. There in one line you have a crystallisation of why Blake is called a visionary poet.
And then the second half of the stanza: the hapless soldier’s sigh runs in blood down palace walls. The soldier – the sentry – is tired, he’s cold, he’s weary – he sighs. And Blake experiences that sigh – he makes us experience it – as blood running down palace walls. You think about it. You think about kings and vast, illimitable wealth, and power – the amassing of wealth and power – the sort of wealth and power that in the end produce a palace – well, every great fortune, every palace is soaked in blood. As Balzac’s saying goes, behind every great fortune lies a great crime. Blake could see that. And he makes us see it. He hears that hapless soldier’s sigh and he immediately sees it as blood running down palace walls.
Great poem. By my lights, the greatest London poem of all. I’ve spent many a two hour seminar exploring it, teaching it. We’ve barely scratched the surface of it here. But this is a podcast not a graduate seminar. So we’ll take our leave of it here.
This podcast didn’t go where I thought it was going to go. William Blake swam into my ken today because today’s the 198th anniversary of his death. Yes, the greatest London poet of them all breathed his last on August 12th, 1827. My intention was to have this podcast be principally about Blake and his passing. Got sidetracked, though, didn’t I.
But maybe tomorrow. Put the marker down today. Get over the ground tomorrow. We’ll see. A day late but hey, it can be a wake for William Blake.
And on that note, I’m off to the Royal Geographical Society. Going to drink deep from one of London’s richest wells.
You’ve been listening to This… is London, the London Walks podcast. Emanating from www.walks.com –
home of London Walks,
London’s signature walking tour company.
London’s local, time-honoured, fiercely independent, family-owned, just-the-right-size walking tour company.
And as long as we’re at it, London’s multi-award-winning walking tour company. Indeed, London’s only award-winning walking tour company.
And here’s the secret: London Walks is essentially run as a guides’ cooperative.
That’s the key to everything.
It’s the reason we’re able to attract and keep the best guides in London. You can get schlubbers to do this for £20 a walk. But you cannot get world-class guides – let alone accomplished professionals.
It’s not rocket science: you get what you pay for.
And just as surely, you also get what you don’t pay for.
Back in 1968 when we got started we quickly came to a fork in the road. We had to answer a searching question: Do we want to make the most money? Or do we want to be the best walking tour company in the world?
You want to make the most money you go the schlubbers route. You want to be the best walking tour company in the world you do whatever you have to do
to attract and keep the best guides in London –
you want them guiding for you, not for somebody else.
Bears repeating:
the way we’re structured – a guides’ cooperative –
is the key to the whole thing.
It’s the reason for all those awards, it’s the reason people who know go with London Walks, it’s the reason we’ve got a big following, a lively, loyal, discerning following – quality attracts quality.
It’s the reason we’re able – uniquely – to front our walks with accomplished, in many cases distinguished professionals:
By way of example, Stewart Purvis, the former Editor
(and subsequently CEO) of Independent Television News.
And Lisa Honan, who had a distinguished career as a diplomat (Lisa was the Governor of St Helena, the island where Napoleon breathed his last and, some say, had his penis amputated – Napoleon didn’t feel a thing – if thing’s the mot juste – he was dead.)
Stewart and Lisa – both of them CBEs – are just a couple of our headline acts.
Or take our Ripper Walk. It’s the creation of the world’s leading expert on Jack the Ripper, Donald Rumbelow, the author of the definitive book on the subject. Britain’s most distinguished crime historian, Donald is, in the words of The Jack the Ripper A to Z, “internationally recognised as the leading authority on Jack the Ripper.” Donald’s emeritus now but he’s still the guiding light on our Ripper Walk. He curates the walk. He trains up and mentors our Ripper Walk guides. Fields any and all questions they throw at him.
The London Walks Aristocracy of Talent – its All-Star Team of Guides – includes a former London Mayor. It includes the former Chief Music Critic for the Evening Standard. It includes the Chair of the Association of Professional Tour Guides. And the former chair of the Guild of Guides.
It includes barristers, doctors, geologists, museum curators, a former London Museum archaeologist, historians,
university professors (one of them a distinguished Cambridge University paleontologist); it includes a criminal defence lawyer, Royal Shakespeare Company and National Theatre actors, a bevy of MVPs, Oscar winners (people who’ve won the big one, the Guide of the Year Award)…
well, you get the idea.
As that travel writer famously put it, “if this were a golf tournament, every name on the Leader Board would be a London Walks guide.”
And as we put it: London Walks Guides make the new familiar
and the familiar new.
And on that agreeable note…
come then, let us go forward together on some great London Walks.