Earlier this week I walked alongside a stretch of the River Roding from a bridge at Snakes Lane East (Chigwell) to some sort of field near Royston Gardens and the Redbridge Roundabout. I write, 'some sort of field' because, by the time I reached that place, having attempted to keep to the way-markers of the Roding Valley Way, I was partially lost. The footpath petered out into a field of bramble briars, blackthorn spinneys and stumbling tussocks of couch grass. I moved awkwardly through them. The prickling scrambling shrubbery teased and pestered me, as if to punish me for my trespass and my foolish straying from the path. I was determined not to turn back and leave by the way I had entered. Initially, despite my loss of the Roding Valley Way, I was confident I would find a path across the field and reconnect with the River Roding and Wanstead Park. The A406 maintained a rushing and (temporarily) reassuring presence to my left, the east. There was, I thought, time and light en...