Here comes Wembley stadium, there on the right, just before we make a small turn and head over Willesden and Kensal Green, crossing the Westway.ĭistantly at first, barely visible between other towers, a blackened smudge heaves into view and the sound dies. Our approach is slow and low in the early winter afternoon, the distant horizon muffled by pollution. There are traffic sounds and distant sirens, a helicopter passing over, its sound fading with it. The approach begins at London’s edge, passing over a mosaic of housing developments and the last fields, giving way to golf courses and playing fields and factory estates.
A t first, we hear birdsong as the screen lights up.
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