The tubes were a mess this morning. Of the four lines I can get to work, three were out of action, leaving x-thousand people to cram onto the already struggling Central Line.

So, I walked. I hadn’t planned on walking more than a couple of stations, but by the time I got to St Paul’s, heading across the river to Waterloo looked like a better bet than soldiering on. So, I took the wobbly Millennium Bridge and remembered, half way across, that I’d been reading about a geocache on the far side.

It was small, wrapped in tin foil and held in place by magnets, apparently. So, I walked along slowly, carefully examining the metal superstructure for bits of tin foil, and almost gave up when I saw a film canister nestled in between two metal struts. It didn’t look like it could have fallen there; it was upright, and perfectly positioned.

So, I paused for a moment and looked into the water and waited for a crowd of people to pass, then bent down to fix my shoe and picked it up.

‘Geocache,’ it said on the outside. ‘Contents non-harmful. Please leave in place.’

I took a quick look inside, but it contained no treasure – just a small strip of paper for people to log their visits. I didn’t sign it; just slipped it back, snapped on the lid and dropped it back where I found it.

Four caches in five days. Not bad going.

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