A view from under the railway bridge opposite Chelsea Harbour yesterday at around 4.00pm. I’ve always found this a rather ghostly and time-warped place. It doesn’t matter how many new flats they build along the water’s edge, the Thames is like an old wound that refuses to stop bleeding against them. The sky was a deep, dark pink, and for about five minutes, Hammersmith looked as if it had been dwarfed by a giant electric fire.
