On Waterloo Bridge, I saw the light

On a remote mountain or a drizzly moor it is almost possible to imagine that the precise path you are treading is unique – even if it is visible to the naked eye or marked on a map. I was about the first of my home and university friends to end up in the big smoke, having bagged a job – fairly randomly – in media regulation. Every day I would walk to work from that great terminus – the only decision being whether to cross the Thames via Waterloo Bridge or Blackfriars. I found an answer on Waterloo Bridge, just as so many others had done, as the sun set beyond parliament and as St Paul’s reached stolidly into the sky to the east. Support free-thinking journalism and attend Independent events True, I was just one among a gazillion Terrys and Julies who had crossed the dirty old river and felt a sense of belonging.