The Grand Union Canal, a serene sanctuary amid the urban sprawl

It was a Saturday afternoon in September, the end of summer, and I was feeling sorry for myself. I’d gone to see my son play football in Slough. He was on the bench, his team had lost, and now I had to carry his kitbag home while he went out with his teammates. I’d missed my bus back to Uxbridge and it was an hour until the next one. I was trudging back into town when I saw a signpost for the Grand Union Canal. Along the towpath, I reckoned it was about eight miles to Uxbridge. Sod it: I decided to walk home.

When I finally reached Uxbridge dusk was falling and I was feeling happier than I’d felt in ages. I’d hardly seen a soul (a lone fisherman drinking beer, two blokes dredging for scrap metal) but I’d seen swans, herons, cormorants and my first kingfisher. That’s the great thing about the Grand Union Canal: an industrial relic of a bygone age, it really ought to be an eyesore.