Arriving at the Rio Cinema yesterday, after an overheated morning walking to Barking Creek seemed odd. It was a fairly long leap from the stink of the River Roding's outfall to this rather special old building towering above Kingsland Road and proudly defying the sweep of new towers up from Dalston Junction. I was here for a film premiére - I can confidently say the first I have ever attended in fact. Schlepping in with my rucksack and my barely concealed aroma of the road and river, I was just a little concerned that I would be straying into a foreign world where I didn't fit. However, I was greeted at the door by the equally road-weary John Rogers - filmmaker responsible for today's feature, and long-time correspondent who I'd never actually chanced to meet in person. This is perhaps even more unlikely since we've trodden a fair amount of the same paths over the years of his filmmaking and my writing about a hard-to-pin down part of London which we both seem to instinctively know is our territory.

That said, I'd never flatter myself by comparison with John as, today's film being fine testament, he has managed to work with some of the most interesting and accomplished fellow walkers of this curious and liminal path in recent times. Firstly with his London Perambulator documentary following the idiosyncratic autodidact Nick Papadimitriou around his beloved Middlesex, and now with London Overground in which Iain Sinclair and Andrew Kötting retrace and disentangle their remarkable single-day walk around the now circular Overground railway line. The book is a curious journey - starting with shared stories and walking reveries between the duo, and drifting into a dreamlike middle-section as night falls and the city darkens. The tales drift away to other people and other times, the line somehow linking them back to a shared memory of the city. Where John has succeeded is in not simply trying to reproduce this walk - instead, the territory has been retrodden in sections, sometimes with both Sinclair and Kötting - occasionally, memorably reprising his 'straw bear' act from By Our Selves - but often with other fellow travellers like Chris Petit on hand. Indeed watching Petit and Sinclair strolling through Kensal Green cemetery is like eavesdropping on the private reminiscence between two old soldiers who have trodden and retrodden the material London offers, still finding new morsels and oddities all these years later. Kötting's much more down-to-earth antics are anchors, reminding us not to take this all to seriously. A walk is still a walk, despite the shifts and subtleties we might attribute to it. Despite how seriously it affected its particpants.

Because, in fact, John's film exposes the alarming conclusion of the book as one of it's central themes. Kötting's near-fatal motorcycle accident on his former home turf as he leaves London after the walk is as much the start as the end - the walk is a journey through his opiated memory, troubled by the recalled insertions of Sinclair's own history. As the damaged motorcyclist sleeps through his trauma, he rewalks and relives the circle of the Overground. The film moves fluidly through these dreamlike shifts between scenes and conversations and thus avoids being a mere documentary of a walk around a changing, disappearing London. Sinclair is candid and thoughtful throughout - able to talk with authority but little certainty about the last London - the city's end-stage as it moves into a post-post-Thatcherite era of offshore ownership and privatisation of land, air and water. His gentle tones and careful prose are pitched perfectly alongside John's camera work which is happy to linger on a curious railing or brick while the author speaks - a touch of Patrick Keiller in uncharacteristic close-up perhaps? Memorable too, are the scenes where Sinclair reads from the book to the accompaniment of local activist/solicitor Bill Parry-Davies' saxophone. These moments link Sinclair back to the beat poets he writes so effectively of in American Smoke - and to their own perhaps unexpected connections to the Overground railway too.

This cut of the film was edited specifically for this launch at the East End Film Festival, and there is every chance that by the time it sees another viewing it will include different scenes from the vast archive of footage which John built up on the walks and interviews he conducted. This is a good reason to seek out London Overground if you see it playing - it will be, a little like the railway which anchors it's existence - a changing and ever-surprising circuit.

After seven weeks of charter trains which have all gone amazingly well, there was something strangely exciting about being on my own plan today. It seemed like a long time since I'd constructed an itinerary and decided where to stick with the plan and where to deviate. What better place to do this than London - and with the East London Line having reopened for business at the last timetable change, this was the obvious aim for today. I'd sketched out a rough plan and set off - a very familiar move to start, with the first train out and a change at Weston-super-Mare onto a cool, quiet HST bound for Paddington. The morning promised to be fine, and it was fantastic just to sit back and enjoy breakfast as we sped east, catching up on some listening along the way. It had been a tough week in lots of ways, and despite ending a little more hopefully than it started, there was plenty of stuff to try not to worry about which I almost achieved on the run in to London. I'd checked the status of the Circle Line and knew I'd be getting a bus for the next bit of the journey, so I deftly skirted the groups of meandering early tourists and found my way to a 36 heading for Victoria. Amazed at how hot the day was already, and also by the amount of early traffic. There were a number of events on in Central London today, which were probably contributing to this, but I also spotted some tell-tale incident tape sealing off a restaurant on Edgware Road - although the story hadn't surfaced as to why just yet. At Victoria, time to get a good coffee and still make an earlier train to Crystal Palace than planned. Onto the surprisingly quiet 09:36 which was soon scudding along the viaducts of South London, through Clapham Junction and the suburbs. Hopped off at one of the curved through platforms at Crystal Palace, and walked into the impressive main train shed, using the long staircase to reach Platform 5 which has been created as the current terminus of the East London Line. 378225 was just arriving as I did, and I managed a sneaky picture as it drew quietly to a halt.

A quick turn around, with the notoriously efficient air-conditioning providing a pleasantly cool atmosphere. I began to find the longitudinal seating frustrating almost immediately however, particularly as I was keen to see what had changed on the route. Once through New Cross Gate, we soared over the new bridge and descended beside the depot. For a brief stretch here I was on new track, as I'd left the East London Line undone south of Rotherhithe when I first visited. At Canada Water, noted that the Jubilee Line was closed today - another possibility, which would now have to wait. Instead pressed on under the Thames on more familiar track to Whitechapel. From here the line began to climb, away from it's former alignment which terminated at Shoreditch Station just east of Brick Lane, and into the new Shoreditch High Street in a concrete box high above the street. Once underway again, the line swung onto the alignment of the former lines to Broad Street, a generous four track brick viaduct now carrying our two lines. After a curve into Hoxton the line ran dead straight alongside Kingsland Road, flying over the Hackney rooftops before dipping down into the dark, cool box of the new Dalston Junction station. No time to explore the four platform terminus as we were encouraged to leave swiftly, and I soon found myself above ground in startlingly bright sunshine with the Dalston traffic whirling around me. Wandered up to Ridley Road to take some pictures and get some provisions, before heading back to the station.

I was determined to cover all the branches and routes on the new line, so I set off again this time heading south to New Cross, the other 'leg' of the original line. After retracing our steps to Surrey Quays, the line branched with a junction allowing further expansion for the planned extensions. The line curved away to run alongside the tracks from London Bridge, terminating at a platform on the eastern side of New Cross station. Out of the station briefly before heading back onto the same unit to return to Surrey Quays, and a dash over the bridge to get a West Croydon bound service. With the lines now complete, I decided to return to Hoxton, wanting to get some pictures of the line in operation. Found the station deserted, but was troubled by the thought of security cameras. Found my spot and in my haste, shot a blurred and unfocused image. With station staff starting to take notice of me, I decided to hop on the next train up to Dalston, and to return on the other platform. Finally got my shot of the train and the city, and headed south to Wapping. This was a visit I'd planned to try many years back - but which the long closure of the line delayed. The station here is an immense brick shaft, with a spiral staircase curving around lifts. Took the lift to street level and emerged in a peaceful and very hot Wapping High Street. Explored, and finally found St. Hilda's Wharf and a worn stone staircase to the Thames shore. Spent a little while in this quiet spot, watching the city around me. Sometimes London produces these strange, quietly magical moments - and this one made up for a week of pretty difficult stuff. I was sorry to leave the spot to the locals, but I needed to head back west.

With the Circle Line out of commission, I decided to head back to Whitechapel, surfacing in the busy street to catch a 205 back towards Euston. Things seemed to go well until we became ensnared in traffic around Kings Cross. As time ticked by, I contemplated seeing the journey all the way through to Paddington just in case things didn't ease. However, I hit on a plan to use an old faithful route to get back - and the times worked pretty well too. So, in to Euston and onto the 16:04 train to Harrow and Wealdstone. Grabbed a drink from the now almost familiar newsagent and basked in the afternoon sunshine, watching trains from the platform. Flagged a Euston service back, and plumped for the next Milton Keynes train which retraced our steps past Willesden Depot, where a line up of new units - including several of the elusive new Class 172s - was in evidence. After diving under the mainline, we resurfaced to take the line via Acton Wells to West Brompton. A swift cross-platform change and I was soon squished into a District Line train back to Paddington, full of slightly jaded looking crowds just out of Wimbledon.

Reflecting over a quality coffee whilst waiting for the customary 19:00 back home, I realised that today was, in a sense, just what I needed. The last few weeks have been an amazing experience - and seeing vast swathes of the UK has been fantastic. But sometimes it's the unexpected twists that journeys take which make them all the more interesting. As ever, London offers more twists and turns than anywhere else - from teeming Ridley Road to the quiet beach at Wapping. The future feels terribly uncertain, but I hope I get the chance to continue with these travels.

Today began as a bit of a farce. Having decided to get up later than usual, woke to a bunch of messages about a major mix-up regarding the coaching stock for Virgin's 'Holidaymaker Specials'. In short, it wasn't where it needed to be and was horrendously late in setting off to get there! Eyed the Live Departures Boards cautiously whilst preparing to leave. Seems that 1E99 - due to call at Weston at 10:53, and therefore my preferred first move - had started from Exeter St. Davids making up some time.

Arrived at the station to find a reasonable number of fellow cranks, and some customarily confused normal folks. One of these attempted some disparaging remarks before realising that there were more of us than of him! Dead on time 67029 at the head of 11 very lightly loaded Virgin liveried Mk2's arrived. Time for a quick photo before hopping aboard for a speedy and smooth run to Temple Meads.

Some more pictures at Bristol, then over to Platform 9 to watch the other northbound special arrive. This had started from Paignton as planned, and as a result of being somewhat late both 67 hauled services were at Temple Meads at once. Shame they weren't on adjacent platforms for the photo opportunity however! Watched 67016 and 67029 depart northward, then got coffee and settled in for the wait for 1V15 - one of the southbound specials.

After some platform changing strangeness, 67027 arrived with another 11 almost empty coaches. Lets hope patronage of these services improves over the coming weeks - my father assures me that the 'factory shutdown' fortnight at the end of July will help! More pictures before setting of on time for a non-stop run to Exeter St. Davids. Hampered by a preceding Voyager some of the way, but we got moving quite respectably south of Taunton.

On to the sea wall at Dawlish - a spectacular bit of railway and an experience I never tire of. My favourite memory being of a stormy high tide six or seven years back, with waves landing the wrong side of the 158 heading for Penzance! 67027 seemed to make particularly swift progress here - there must be some impressive shots from the photographers at Dawlish out there on the various fotopic sites! Some talk of bailing at Dawlish for the northbound Virgin HST, but I decided to stay on to Paignton for old time's sake!


In retrospect, probably shouldn't have done. The strange distaste I developed by visiting the town when in a very unhappy state of mind seems to still trouble me. The sad part is, I used to love a run down here, taking pictures of trains from the footbridge, a decent lunch and a walk to Goodrington. Today however, changed platforms for the 1530 Voyager heading northwards, and left swiftly.

Reasonably uneventful run back. Passed 67002 hauling the other southbound service at Exeter, very late having being swapped on and off the train at Crewe earlier in the day. Changed at Taunton for a packed 143621 back to Weston. Not many miles travelled, but some interesting haulage.

A rare evening out. Lots of talking, which is a nice change. Almost recruited as some sort of proto-hacker for an investigator. Highly unlikely given my skill set! Decent beer on tap at the White Hart. Spent time in the presence of a certain dental assistant, which was acutely difficult given the circumstances. I'm feeling old and tired today.