It was a lovely midweek morning last September. I’m a keen rower and I go out on the Thames with my club as often as I can. The river is usually murky and grey, with a thick silt at the bottom. But that day, at about 7.30am, it was different. The tide was at its lowest, and the water was still and crystal clear.
Six of us walked down with our boats from the boathouse in Brentford. I was at the back, the last one in the water. As I got in, I saw what I thought was a bone on the riverbed about 30cm down. Instinctively, I pulled it out. I was holding it with the hip joint up in the air – as soon as I saw that, I was sure it was human.
