Turn the corner from St John’s, and away from the cathedralesque meat market that is Smithfield, and you arrive at Cowcross street. Cars congest it nowadays but once it was the concourse and final thoroughfare for cattle arriving for sale and slaughter in the city of London.
Crowding through the bends and curves, a cacophony of animals literally converged in droves. Begun as small, arterial routes in far-flung corners of the country, these cattle caravans widened into a confluence of drovers roads, still discernible and walkable today.
I could cry for the consternation that must have arisen in the big cow-eyes of the animals, having been walked this far from their home meadows, for such an ending. Yet I remain a carnivore and Cowcross street, Clerkenwell continues to captivate me. And so concludes this week’s story challenge: tagged C
The noise of [animals] which were kept in the capital was confounded also with the sound of great herds of beasts being driven to Smithfield…London consumed the countryside…and the noise which accompanied its devouring appetite was everywhere apparent 1