A very sensible day yesterday. Saw no one. Took bus to Southwark Bridge. Walked along Thames Street; saw a flight of steps down to the river. I climbed down - a rope at the bottom. Found the strand of the Thames, under the warehouses - strewn with stones, bits of wire, slippery; ships lying off the bridge. Very slippery; warehouse walls crusted, weedy, worn. The river must cover them at high tide. It was now low. People on bridge stared. Difficult walking. A rat haunted, riverine place, great chains, wooden pillars, green slime, bricks corroded, a button hook thrown up by the tide. A bitter cold wind. Thought of the refugees from Barcelona walking forty miles, one with a baby in a parcel.