A WINTER FOR WANDERING
It’s cold. It’s dark. It’s probably wet, too. But there’s much to gain from resisting hibernation and heading out for an urban jaunt, says author and illustrator Alice Stevenson
Afew years ago, on a late afternoon in early January, my flatmate and I walked from the Victoria and Albert Museum in South Kensington all the way home to east London. It was that strange time of the year when the world feels half asleep and day seems indistinguishable from night. As we crossed Hyde Park, we skirted the edges of Winter Wonderland, watching the illuminated tops of the Ferris wheel and other less identifiable structures mingling with the bare branches of the plane trees against an orange-grey sky. Occasionally we stopped to admire the patterns created by the lit-up windows of townhouses and tower blocks. We arrived home refreshed and inspired but happily weary.
January, of course, is not a month we usually associate with exploration. Nature is in its deepest sleep, and even in daylight night never feels far from the edges. Yet this is precisely what makes winter walks so atmospheric; when the sun shines the shadows are long, and that end-of-the-day intensity always makes its presence felt. The much-maligned shorter days mean you might stumble across a sunrise or sunset unplanned; pink and purple clouds framed by the black lines of an old gas works, or an office block suddenly aflame with gold as the afternoon draws to a close. Yes, rain is an occupational hazard, but the accidental compositions of buildings, trees and clouds
reflected in puddles more than makes up for getting a little damp.
In the dark, the city becomes an entirely different place. Details come to the fore; a street lamp illuminates a decorative drain cover; front gardens are black save for lingering arrangements of Christmas lights. Strolling at dusk can be a happy reminder as to how our surroundings are always in flux – nothing stays exactly the same from one moment to the next.
My trek across the city perfectly encapsulated the joys of walking with a friend in the heart of winter. Long since the pandemic and its prized new status as a socially distanced pastime, walking has been an excellent shared pursuit. As the landscape evolves around you, it finds its way into your exchanges; an unusual shopfront can stir a childhood memory or trigger an anecdote, imbuing the conversation with a delightful rambling richness. Looking out towards the world – not one another – lessens inhibitions and encourages the kind of shared confidences and honest discussions that can be a great tonic in the colder months.
With access to galleries, museums and travel limited, perhaps walking can provide new experiences to sustain us. On your next lunch break, choose a location at random on a map and take a meandering wander in thatdirection.Byslowingdownandobserving your environment, you will become attuned to what’s around you. Maybe you’ll spot a striking mural on the wall of an unassuming 1960s housing estate that you previously walked past without truly seeing (see over page for more on murals). Or you might find yourself admiring the original decorative tilework that lines the doorway of a lateVictorian house. By approaching a neighbourhood walk, wherever you may be, with a spirit of curiosity, you can experience your hometown as if you were discovering it for the very first time.
The world offers unexpected glimpses of beauty for those there to see them; berries and fallen leaves forming interesting arrangements across paving stones or coloured paper shapes Blu-Tacked in a primary school window creating an agreeable design. In the midst of winter, these incidental moments serve as a powerful balm for the soul. Stepping out of your front door and placing one foot in front of the other can be a timely reminder of all the wonder of the world, which happily is not going anywhere.
‘THE WORLD OFFERS
UNEXPECTED GLIMPSES OF BEAUTY FOR THOSE THERE
TO SEE THEM’