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SEPTEMBER 2018
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Flight Time
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Inspiration
et me take you by the hand
and lead you through the
streets of London, goes the
song. What rot. You don’t
need to be taken by the hand
through the streets of London. This city’s a
doddle to get about on foot. Indeed, walking
around it – unnecessarily hand-in-hand or
otherwise – is one of London’s great joys.
Except, that is, in Docklands. This vast
expanse of east London is stridently,
obnoxiously anti-pedestrian. And yet, time and
again, I keep on coming back for more – I love
exploring this area, even though it hates me.
Try this on for size. At the time of writing,
TripAdvisor listed 548 walking tours in
London. I filtered and refined the search, but
not a single tour focused on Docklands. Not
one. Not even one with reviews saying “Never
again” or “Is this a joke?”.
Nope, Docklands is no place for flâneurs.
The trick in this neck of the woods is to
explore with a different sort of mindset.
Come prepared to feel unwelcome,
unwanted, rejected by the city’s very fabric.
For you’ll meet off-putting obstacle after
obstacle: dual carriageways streaming with
lorries; inhospitable roundabouts; yards full
of skips and shipping containers; the full
evolutionary range of security cameras. In
Docklands, heavy concrete things and heavy
steel things seem to proliferate, to reproduce.
This is their home. It is not for you.
And yet… I’m besotted with the place,
slightly addicted. You see, when you do
finally find a nook or a cranny worth
lingering over in this pedestrian blunderland,
well, it’s all the sweeter.
So come, take me by the hand (if you must)
and I’ll show you how to ‘do’ Docklands. But
L
Wharf poking up around it.
For while Billingsgate is barely bigger
than a five-a-side football pitch, it packs a
punch of an experience. I’m hit with the smell
of the seaside rather than fish as I walk in (a
sure sign of freshness) and the first snatch of
conversation I hear is “Why’d you want that
crap?” A ginger-haired, white-aproned stall
trader is directing his theatrical ire at some
prospective customers, who are peering down
at a collection of red snapper. He swipes his
hand at the fish as if they’re beneath contempt.
Then: “Three for a tenner.”
This is the thing. You won’t get freebies
or samples; the porters might run you over
with their trolleys; and you have to suffer
sleep deprivation to visit – but Billingsgate
guarantees priceless gritty atmosphere and
more than your year’s allowance of banter,
generally at the pitch of good-natured leg-
pulling. You don’t know if you’re coming
or going.
And since I’ve arrived at 7.15am this
Saturday morning, spirits are particularly
high – closing time is approaching, and
Sunday is the stallholders’ Saturday. For the
workers here, I’ve basically wandered into
their office at 5.15pm on a Friday.
I do the rounds, lapping up the sights
and sounds: J+P Exotics with its real shark’s
maw skeleton for a sign; squelchy blobs of
cod roe; squirming lobsters with blue elastic
bands round their speckled brown claws; a
languorously-flopped catfish too big for its
white polystyrene coffin, its pleading face
poking over the box’s rim; Mick’s Eels; whole
salmon (uncleaned) going for £28; yellow
mind how you go – our first stop is slippery
underfoot. And for ‘first’, read ‘early’ –
seriously early.
A visit to Billingsgate is non-negotiable.
Yes, that’s Billingsgate the fish market.
Which opens at 4am and shuts up shop
around 8am. And which is aimed mostly
at the restaurant trade. As tourist-friendly
markets go, Billingsgate is no Borough.
But Billingsgate’s charm lies precisely in
the fact that it does not pander to tourism.
It has not pandered to tourism for the past
four centuries, so it’s hardly likely to start
handing out selfie sticks at the
entrance now. Originally sited
near the City, the market moved
out to its current Docklands
location in 1982. Its modern
incarnation is not easy on the
eye, a great yellow hangar that’s
as functional as a walk-in freezer
(which it basically is). Yet, as
beacons of London trade go, it
sure has a lot more charm than
the gleaming icicles of Canary
“Billingsgate’s charm lies
precisely in the fact that it
does not pander to tourism.
It has not pandered to
tourism for the past four
centuries, so it’s hardly likely
to start handing out selfie
sticks at the entrance now”