The Thames beaches are irresistible to me - centuries of dredging the riverbed means that all the contents have been mixed together in the centre, while the tidal flows of the river wash them back out to the sides, depositing them within easy reach at low tide. Consequently, modern detritus lies alongside debris from Victorian, and even Roman, times.
Riverside renovators would simply tip their old bricks into the river. When ship-building for the Royal Navy made heavy roofing timbers rare to come by, Londoners would abandon their too-heavy clay roof tiles in the Thames in favour of lighter slate materials. A short poke around one of the beaches will usually yield clay stems from disposable Victorian tobacco pipes, endless pieces of patterned crockery, colourful glass and all manner of metals (including shopping trolleys).
Where's Anna?
Last weekend the sun was out, so we walked down to the Millennium Bridge, and I went beachcombing while Anna listened to her ipod. I collected a couple of pockets full of oriental printed porcelain, which I'd like to cut up and glue into some kind of new picture (assuming I ever find the time). Poor Anna, I'm a hoarder of odds-and-ends like my Dad! On a more useful note, I did find an excellent brick (stamped with the name "Broomhill") which has made an excellent doorstop...
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