It was a great pleasure to join the staff of the Islington Mayor, Stefan Kasprzyk, on his Autumnal walk this afternoon and to learn from many people.

I was entrusted with the keys to unlock and lock up the entrance to the Clerks Well, which as you know gave its name to Clerkenwell. I have yet to be certain about the placing of the apostrophe, but it didn't much trouble me: oral history and written history are very different things, and just as valuable.

I was rather rude about the Fleet valley today. The most romanticised of London's buried rivers, the Fleet was horrible. I'd love to tell its tale differently. Mankind has only ever had three ways of disposing of rubbish: burn it, bury it, or throw it in the river. The Fleet was always third choice. By 1846, moslty arched over, the Fleet exploded through a build-up of gases.

For some reason we all seem to adore the folk memory of something that was never as we would wish to imagine it.

Best to you all, and not just a Fleeting glimpse,
Andy

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