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The London that Charles Dickens knew.

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The London that Charles Dickens knew. As I walked down the sodden, dismal street, I glanced up to see the dark mass of clouds frowning upon me. The miserable sky was filled with unsightly, grey smog, which smelled like bonfires and factories. The dullness of the sky was unbearable. There were no birds happily tweeting and soaring from tree to tree, there were no insects flying around in the earthy air. There were just masses and masses of thick, grey, loitering cloud. The sun was non-existent, as nothing could interrupt the bold barrier of smog. The gloomy atmosphere was cold, and the piercing wind chilled like a phantom. The streets were vicious and vile. In every direction, they were crowded paths of life, which were bustling with reeking bodies and grubby children. ...read more.


It was sickening. To the left of me, there were two large, cheerless horses, slowly pulling carts, jam-packed with people. A small, plump man, with dirt smeared across his cheekbone, was violently whipping one with anger, and the suffering beast yelped in agony. The people sitting in the cart looked dejected and weary. On my right hand side, I could see a horde of filthy vermin frantically searching for leftovers in the stinking pile of dustbin waste. They were scavenging like a plotting team of murderers. Their revolting fur was black with foul dirt and mud. Their tails were like long, thick pieces of pink thread, which dragged along the disgusting alleyways. They looked like evil monsters. The town had already started to darken and it was only four o'clock. The streets got dimmer and more miserable by the minute. ...read more.


Some of the people here were unbelievably poor. They had no shelter and their only rags were getting drenched through to the skin. Many of the beggars were unwell as the disease of the streets was out of control. The corners were foul with the stench of sewage becoming overpowering. My eyes darted up to see a weak, old lady pouring raw sewage out of her window. It splattered on to the ground, making the route even more putrid. I felt queasy. As I walked past, I noticed the slums, these people lived in. The tumbling tenements were dark, dingy, and mysterious. The shacks were old and vulnerable with smears of flickering candlelight, blinking in the blackness. They were cold, uninviting buildings in great need of repair or attention. The drab buildings loomed over me, making the street darker and more frightening. The smells around here were even stronger; it was hard to breathe properly. It was a terrible ordeal to live in London in the 1850's. ...read more.

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