If rivers could tell tales, then the vast expanse of brown water outside my window would be worth listening to.
Across from my office on the northern bank of this river is London’s financial district where two thousand years ago the Romans made camp as they forded the Thames and made Londinium the base from which to conquer Britain. To my right is the Tower of London built by Norman invaders a millennium after the Romans arrived in order to stamp their authority on the local Saxon population. Just to the east is Tower Bridge the great Victorian symbol of London.
In front of me I can see the gilded pinnacle of the monument built to commemorate the great fire that destroyed much of London in 1666. It is still the world’s tallest stone column but it is now dwarfed by the glass and steel boxes that house the greatest concentration of financial workers in the world.
A few metres along the river from here to the west is the Globe Theatre, a faithful reconstruction on the site of the original theatre where four hundred years ago Shakespeare wrote, produced – and probably acted in – the most famous plays in the world. Across the river from the Globe I can see the basilica of St Paul’s cathedral, built by Sir Christopher Wren in the seventeenth century but constructed on the site of a church dating back to 604.
Over the centuries, people have arrived from all corners of the world to make this city home. They have endured plague, invasion, fire, war and all types of depravity. They have seen great fortunes made and lost. The wharf in front of this building was once packed with ships bringing all manner of goods to fuel the first industrial age. Now the only vessels moored outside are old Thames barges that serve warm wine and cold food as they take chilly office parties down the river. This is a capital city that launched an empire and just as its ambitions reached their zenith started the painful retreat from imperial supremacy.
The one constant through two thousand years of change is the river, the same remorseless, tidal flow that has borne witness to such tumultuous history. And there is so much history. The odd vernacular of London’s street names tells a fascinating tale of city life through the ages. But what is remarkable about London is that it is not trapped in a time warp. As I write this the Olympic Games are about to start and athletes and sports people from all over the world are converging on a city that has changed so much in the last few decades to the extent that change has become the defining motif of London.
Paris is exquisite and rightly coveted as one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But by contrast with London it feels trapped by its eighteenth century elegance. London has sacrificed elegance for vibrancy. Many of the buildings I can see in front of me would receive a resounding “non” from the Parisian planning authorities. And in some cases you can see why: the Gherkin is sublime but other buildings have much more questionable architectural merit. Behind me is the newly-built Shard, a building that for some is just too Dubaiesque for the London skyline.
The change is not just in the city’s physical shape. London’s demographics have also undergone a revolution. This has always been a cosmopolitan city, its trading status meant that even in the middle ages the make-up of the population was surprising exotic. But now it is a truly global city – more so than anywhere else I know – and as different from the rest of the United Kingdom as it is from many other big foreign cities.
Down the river the Prime Minister is hosting a gathering of global CEOs at the stunning neo-classical mansion, Lancaster House, to persuade them that Britain is the place to invest. He hopes the Olympics will be the adrenalin shot needed to re-start the heart of the British economy and justify the £10 billion of public money it has cost to stage the event. Let us hope he is successful because the patient is not yet responding to all the other economic medicine that has been administered so far.
The Prime Minister will at least be able to demonstrate London’s claim to be the crossroads of the world. Everywhere you go in London you see and hear the sights and sounds of a city that has offered home to people from almost everywhere. And by and large, these people get along with each other. Indeed, London’s transport system with its medieval street plan designed for horse and carts and its hundred year old tube system means you have little choice but to tolerate your neighbours – often in excruciating intimacy.
It has not always seemed this tolerant a place and it would be hubristic to think that it could not all take a turn for the worse. Maybe this sense of well-being is an illusion created by the games. But as we welcome the Olympics to London we should keep our fingers crossed that even as the infrastructure creaks and groans, participants and visitors will be seeing this ancient yet modern city at one of the high points in its long history.