Like Sundays long ago

On the Canal path from Angel heading East running is proving popular as is cycling. Ringing bells can be heard every 100 yards or so. Two very serious looking men are canoeing. On the first stretch of the canal, gardens of big Georgian townhouses gently slope towards the water. Further up, they gives way to high-rise flats and new apartment blocks. Their cluttered balconies hang over the canal checking out their reflection in the murky water. Bikes on balconies like smokers at a party, sent out to smoke in the cold.

We make our way to Hoxton Street which isn’t far by canal. The towpaths are like secret passageways weaving through the city, taking you the quick route to your destination. It’s a cold grey day, lifeless trees along our path, branches outstretched like ancient arms reaching for spring. In this part of the city it feels like Sunday used to feel long ago. The streets are half deserted, shutters on shops, lights out in pubs, but every now and then we’ll see a well lit café teaming with life. People huddled inside to escape the winter. Inside the closed doors of the White Cube gallery men paint the walls white with rollers on long sticks. Outside a café advertising ‘breakfast club’, stand a queue of kids in their early twenties. It is packed inside. No idea what’s going on in there, surely they’re not just queuing for breakfast? No time to find out, we continue our walk.

Off Chiswell street there’s a football match going on. It’s not the kind of place you expect to see a huge stretch of grass. A secret garden, hidden from the main road by buildings, and only visible to us from behind gates down a side street. The shouting of the players echos out against the silence of the city.

On the road towards Angel the streets are grey and deserted, buildings part way through demolition. The lights are on in the tailor’s shop. Inside the glow of the shop the tailor is cutting two slices of cake on top of his counter, which he shares with a man, either his assistant or a customer. Let’s say a customer.

Inspired, we buy a Victoria sponge in the bustling area of Upper Street and head home to watch Columbo.