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The steps at Richmond where summer always starts

There is a moment each July when the towpath fills with the sound of children shrieking and the slap of feet on wet stone. The steps below Richmond Bridge become a stage again. The same steps, the same leap, the same cold shock of the Thames.

You see it every year. A child stands at the top, toes curled over the edge, weighing courage against cold. Then the jump. Then the scramble back up to do it all over again. The river does not change. Neither does this.

The parents sit on the bank with their shoes off, half-watching, half-reading. The lavender along the towpath is at its peak now, humming with bees. The air smells of cut grass and sun cream. Someone always forgets a towel.

This is what summer looks like here. Not the heatwave headlines or the packed trains to the coast. Just the river, the steps, the kids who come back taller each year but jump in exactly the same way.

Some things hold.

Do you have a summer tradition on the Thames? Share it below.

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When the Thames meets the doorstep at the White Cross

When the Thames meets the doorstep at the White Cross

The White Cross sits at the edge of the river in a way few pubs can claim. When the tide is high, the Thames floods the terrace and laps at the door. You prop your pint on the windowsill inside and watch the water creep closer. It happens twice a day when the moon and […]

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Light through the willows

Light through the willows

Stand on the towpath near Petersham Meadows around three in the afternoon and you will notice something shift. The sun drops just low enough to pierce the willow branches. Long fingers of gold fall through the leaves and reach the Thames below. The water breaks the light into pieces. It flickers. It dances. You can […]

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The afternoon nap on the bank that you'll deny later

The afternoon nap on the bank that you’ll deny later

You only meant to sit for a moment. The grass slope near Petersham Meadows looked inviting, the sun was warm on your face, and you told yourself you’d just watch the water for a minute or two. Then you woke up. Your phone says twenty minutes have passed. There’s a crease from your sleeve across […]

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The cold shock of Petersham Meadows at dawn

The cold shock of Petersham Meadows at dawn

You went in at the slipway just past the meadows. The water was the colour of weak tea, moving slower than you expected. June roses hung over garden walls further upstream, but here it was just you, the current, and the heron that didn’t bother flying off. The cold hit your chest like a fist. […]

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The cows know what they're doing

The cows know what they’re doing

The herd at Petersham Meadows doesn’t hurry. They graze in long, slow sweeps across the grass, ignoring the cyclists on the towpath and the dog walkers cutting through towards Ham. Beyond them, the Thames curves wide and flat, catching the light in bright, shifting patches. You can stand at the edge of the meadow and […]

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The Bench

A different conversation about Richmond, every day.