Anna (editor) Macdonald

During the afternoons, as daylight yellowed and began to fade, I would give in, walk out, and close the door behind me. Most days, I turned towards the river. If there was enough light, from Herring Island jetty I moved upstream, keeping pace with the incoming tide, walking past school playing fields where rowing crews levered racing boats from the water; where young boys outfitted as cadets qui-iick marched and dreamed the turf beneath their feet to desert, reimagining the far bank as a foreign shore, and the bagpipe band blew 'Scotland the Brave' into the creeping dark. Often, I passed fishermen setting up on the low bank before MacRobertson Bridge. As I headed out, they'd be unfolding their campstools along the edge of the river. It became a habit of mine to slow here, and watch, as one man after another secured bait to a hook, looked back over his shoulder before casting, waited for the metallic fizz of the line as it shot out from the land, across the water, and then paused, listening for the plop and bubble-rush of the sinking lure before settling onto his stool to wait.

On those days, I would walk far enough to leave the sounds of traffic and after-school games behind me, into the steep wooded banks of Hawthorn and Abbotsford, where currawongs cried in the dying light. Then, when evening had laid its mourning ribbons over the river and house lights began to pierce the darkening hills, I would turn and head for home. Often as I walked back along the high bank, I could hear the rhythmic slap of a lone oarsman keeping time in the water below me. (p.3)

Lieutenant Charles Campbell Wood R.A.F. of Bloemfontein South Africa dived from this spot into the Thames at midnight, 27 December 1919 and saved a woman's life. He died from the injuries received during the rescue.