Town Mouse

A troubled bridge over untroubled water

tom hodgkinson

Wordsworth may be known as a nature poet. But one of his loveliest pieces is Composed upon Westminster Bridge from 1802, which sings of the joy of man’s creations. It’s actually less selfconscious than his quite tedious stuff about mountains and lakes.

The poet stands still on Westminster Bridge early one morning and drinks in the urban scene:

Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie

Open unto the fields, and to the sky.

Wordsworth’s sentiments were echoed later by the great romantic of the 1960s Ray Davies, in Waterloo Sunset. Contemplation of that sunset, he said, transported him to paradise.

For those of us locked up in the city, it’s well to remember the wonder of bridges and their startling collision of utility and beauty. They get us from one side of the river to the other, to transact commercial business. But, in doing so, they also give us the chance to pause a while, meditate and gaze on the mysterious water below and the towers beyond, and see a sight ‘touching in its majesty’.

Bridges are businesslike and romantic at the same time. Wordsworth’s Westminster Bridge, put up in 1750, was paid for with money from lotteries, grants and wealthy benefactors. Canaletto did a lovely painting of it – ships everywhere.

Today’s Victorian structure replaced the one Wordsworth loved in 1862 and though it’s not as pretty as its Georgian ancestor, the view it affords is still touching in its majesty.

In Wordsworth’s day, the river was teeming with ships, but these days you don’t see much boat life on the river. Over the summer, Mrs Mouse and I took an evening cruise with our friends the Voles in their little motorboat, from Strand-on-the-Green to Richmond and back. There wasn’t a single other boat out on the water, though we saw loads of herons, mallards and even the odd great-crested grebe. Bliss for us, but it made me wonder why the river is so underused, for business or pleasure.

For many of London’s bridges, we have Bridge House Estates to thank. This charitable foundation has its roots in a tax established in 1097 by William II to maintain London Bridge. It was administered from a house on the bridge called – you guessed it – Bridge House. The first London Bridge was a wooden structure built by the Romans at the lowest fordable point on the river, less than 200 feet from its present location.

It was good business. Bridge House received cash from retail, tolls and bequests. Over the intervening 925 years, Bridge House Estates has grown into a large property-owner. In addition to its five bridges, which include the Millennium Bridge, it has offices and shops worth over £850 million. Add in its other investments and it has a total of £1.5 billion in assets. Its annual income is nearly £50 million.

The Millennium Bridge may have had a bumpy start when it wobbled dramatically on its first day. But since then it’s been a huge success, providing a highly pleasurable way of walking from the Globe Theatre and the Tate, in renovated Southwark, to the other side of the river.

The closest bridge to the Mouse dwelling is Hammersmith Bridge. It has become something of a disaster area. In 2019, engineers realised the cast-iron pedestals which hold the bridge up were riddled with tiny cracks. So the bridge was closed, causing a huge headache to the residents of Barnes, who’d enjoyed nipping into town with ease.

The bridge is now open to bicycles and pedestrians, but the cost of repairs is going to be immense and the burghers of Hammersmith and Fulham Council, which owns it, are looking at various proposals. One of these – the one favoured by Town Mouse – is a sort of double-decker idea, put forward by the engineers at Norman Foster’s company. This brilliant scheme would see a temporary truss put in place, allowing road traffic to cross the river while the proper structural repairs are made.

It’s cheaper than the other proposals and would get the wheels of commerce moving far more quickly.

Another proposal, which I made to Mr Vole, was that he and I would operate a ferry service across the river, using his small boat. I reasoned that we would make a fortune from the inconvenienced families of Barnes, who currently have to drive all the way to blasted Putney to get into town.

Sadly Mr Vole’s responsibilities to the marine insurance industry, where he toils, prevented him from considering my idea seriously.

Also, my scheme was probably illegal. But this water-loving Mouse can think of nothing more pleasant than spending his days crossing a river.