In the winter of 1739, the Thames stopped. I refused to believe it, but Martha dragged me down1 to the river to see how blocks of ice had formed around the piers2 of London Bridge and joined together to make a great plug3 that had stopped up the water. A bank of ice stretched4 from Southwark to the City. It was an amazing sight!
A whole street of tents had sprung up5 — each one a shop or a pub. People were walking down the ice as if they were in a city street. Those without shoes tied rags6 around their feet, others were on skates. Martha and I stood on the shore7, gaping8 as strange carriages travelled between the banks: some of the watermen had fixed sledges9 to their…
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Speak Up (Digital) - 1 Issue, No 473