Walking London

In a world brimming with technicolor maps and GPS-guided wanderings, "Walking London" by Andrew Duncan emerges like an old dog with a new trick—or perhaps an old trick that’s just turned into a dog. Published in the illustrious year of 1991 by BCA, this charmingly antiquated guidebook invites the brave-hearted (or hopelessly lost) to traverse the cobbled streets of London on foot, like some sort of Victorian explorer with a penchant for blisters and existential dread.

One might ask, why traipse through London on foot when the Underground exists, whispering sweet nothings of transportation efficiency? Well, dear reader, Andrew Duncan seems to have a rather romantic notion of urban wandering that doesn’t jive with the hurried hustle of modern commuters. Instead, he encourages you to linger, to pause, and to engage with the city as if it were a long-lost friend, albeit one that often reeks of fish and chips. His prose dances along the edges of delightful irony, as he describes London’s many quirks—like a local pub that serves pints but never offers a single smile in return.

Within these pages, you’ll encounter not just streets and landmarks, but a cornucopia of oddities and peculiarities. Duncan shuffles between history and anecdote, presenting the city as a patchwork quilt stitched together with tales of yore that often make one wonder if the past was actually more entertaining than the present. And let’s be honest, who wouldn’t want to know the backstory of a statue of a horse that seems to be judging your every move?

As you flip through the pages, prepare for delightful diversions into the minutiae of London life—a random fact about the number of pigeons that populate Trafalgar Square, a detour into the life of a lesser-known poet who once sat on a bench and contemplated life while sipping tea. It’s as if Duncan beckons you to peel back the layers of the city, revealing its idiosyncratic heart, all while reminding you that sometimes it’s the journey, not the destination, that leaves you bewildered and slightly questioning your choices.

The book is punctuated with useful tips—like how to avoid the aggressive seagulls that seem intent on stealing your sandwich or the best time to mingle with tourists at Buckingham Palace (spoiler: it’s never). It’s as if each page is a friendly nudge, whispering “Hey, make a fool of yourself; it’s part of the experience!” And isn’t that what every Londoner secretly yearns for? A bit of embarrassing adventure sprinkled with a splash of English eccentricity?

Condition: This particular copy of "Walking London" has journeyed through the hands of many an adventurous soul, and it shows. Expect the occasional coffee stain that may or may not be from a laptop-charging hipster, and perhaps a few dog-eared pages that hint at which routes were deemed particularly noteworthy (or treacherous). The spine is a tad creaky, much like your knees will be after following Duncan’s recommendations. But fear not; it still holds together, much like the city itself: slightly battered but undeniably full of stories.

The book also features an eclectic mix of illustrations that somehow manage to be both whimsical and slightly unsettling. You may find yourself staring at a sketch of a rather rotund gentleman who seems to have mistaken a double-decker bus for a personal chariot. What can one glean from such artistry? Perhaps that London is a strange and wonderful place where reality often bends to the will of artistic whimsy.

If you’re looking to enhance your London experience with a sprinkle of quirk and a dash of irony, then look no further than this darling little tome. Crappy Old Books presents this guide not just as a book, but as an invitation to step outside and embrace the chaos of the streets, where every corner holds an untold story waiting for you to walk right into it—preferably with a good pair of shoes and maybe a small snack for the journey.

Keep browsing: See more Travel books Other books by Andrew Duncan