The Lion and the Unicorn Revisited.

To my mind there is nothing like a good walk to clear the cobwebs. Get the old pins moving and have a proper think about things. That's the ticket.So in this optimistic frame of mind I strode out the other day on one of my favorite jaunts.
Crossing over Waterloo Bridge, I am, as always, thrilled by that view of the city downriver and although I'm not a huge fan of the architecture, I can't help turning to look back at the South Bank and especially the Royal Festival Hall, all that now remains of that supreme example of post-war optimism, the Festival of Britain.
Over the bridge, turn right into The Strand and on to Fleet Street. Pause to go down into the crypt of St Brides "the printers church". No printers in evidence now but an interesting exhibition of the history of Fleet Street. On street level again and the real world. Post Murdoch Fleet Street.
I'm indebted to Ian Bone and his excellent blog for drawing my attention back to George Orwell and the need for the left to remain connected to the common culture of our society. It has got me reading Orwell again especially the essays, and most especially The Lion and the Unicorn. There are lots of things about Orwell's that I admire, not least the unashamed ENGLISHNESS of it all. That does not mean that I'm not an internationalist - far from it. It's just that looking back over the past 40 odd years of my own political development, it seems to me that the baby has been thrown out with the bathwater so many times.
Onward. Cross the valley of the old Fleet River, up Ludgate Hill and into the heart of the beast- The City. Look, this place, The City. It belongs to ME. The workers built this. The heritage of the Square Mile will remain long after the fly by night capitalists and hedge-fund tossers have struck their tents. And this heritage, it's MINE. It's OURS.
On past St Pauls. Down Cheapside and Poultry.Cross another lost river (Wallbrook) Past The Bank and up Cornhill. Pause to admire the Lloyd's Building and the ironwork of Leadenhall Market, both in their own way wonderful examples of craftsmanship and testimony to the truth of the words spoken by Durutti all those years ago. Negotiate the Aldgate one way system and I'm in Whitechapel High Street. Duck into Angel Alley and the anarchist sanctuary of Freedom Books. I buy something by Colin Ward. I like Ward. He writes about allotments, plotlands, the margins. Its all so, well, English I suppose.