Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial Fountain

Listen first. Before you see anything clearly, you hear water. It moves fast and bright in one place, then slow and almost silent a few steps further on. Under your feet the grass gives way to pale stone, smooth and cool to the touch. Children are laughing somewhere near the edge. Look down, and you will see a ribbon of water running around a wide oval of granite, set gently into the slope of the lawn. This is the Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial Fountain, in the south-western corner of Hyde Park.

The first surprise is that this is not really a fountain in the usual sense. There is no tall jet, no statue, no basin raised up on a plinth. Instead, it is a stream shaped like a necklace, lying flat on the land. The design follows the natural fall of the ground. Water enters at the highest point of the ring and then splits in two. One half runs one way around the oval, the other half runs the opposite way. Both streams meet again in a calm pool at the lowest point.

The memorial was opened in July 2004 by Queen Elizabeth the Second, almost seven years after Diana died in a car crash in Paris in 1997. Her death produced an outpouring of public grief that many people in Britain still remember vividly. Flowers were piled outside Kensington Palace, just across the park in Kensington Gardens, where Diana had lived. The question of how to remember her in stone took years of debate. The answer chosen was something low, open, and unusual.

The design came from the American landscape architect Kathryn Gustafson, working with the London practice Gustafson Porter. Her idea was that the memorial should reflect qualities people associated with Diana — openness, accessibility, and a willingness to reach out to others. So there are no walls here and no fences around the stone itself. Three small bridges cross the stream, and you can walk across them onto the grass inside the ring. The centre of the memorial is open to everyone.

Now look closely at the stone. The ring is built from hundreds of separate pieces of Cornish granite, from the far south-west of England. Each piece was cut using computer-controlled machinery, following a digital model of the whole design. This allowed the surface to carry very precise textures. Run your eyes along the channel and you will see that the stone is not uniform. In some places it is smooth. In others it is ridged, grooved, or stepped, and each texture changes the way the water behaves.

This is the second surprise. The different moods of the water are not accidental. They are carved into the granite. On one side of the oval, the water tumbles over little steps and swirls through curved grooves, so it bubbles and splashes. Some people call this stretch the rock and roll section. Elsewhere, the stream slides over gentle ridges and becomes rippled and lively. Then, towards the bottom, the channel widens, the surface smooths out, and the water grows still and reflective before it reaches the pool.

The idea behind these changing moods is that Diana's life itself had turbulent passages and quiet ones. You do not need to accept that reading to enjoy the effect. Simply walk slowly around the full circuit and listen. The sound shifts with every few steps — a rush, a gurgle, a soft trickle, then near silence. It is one of the few memorials in London that you experience as much through your ears as through your eyes.

Another thing many visitors miss is that the memorial had a difficult start. Within weeks of opening, it was closed. People had been walking along the wet granite, and some slipped and were hurt. Fallen leaves also blocked the drainage. The park authorities made changes. The surrounding ground was improved, the rules were made clearer, and stewards were placed on site to watch over visitors. It reopened, and over time it settled into the calm, familiar place you see today.

The current rules reflect those early lessons. You are welcome to sit on the edge and dip your feet or hands into the water. That contact was always part of the intention — this is a memorial you are meant to touch. But walking or running along the channel is not allowed, because wet granite is slippery. On warm days you will often see families sitting in rows along the stone, shoes off, trousers rolled up, feet in the moving stream.

Step back now and look at the setting. The memorial sits in open parkland near the southern bank of the Serpentine, the long curved lake that runs through Hyde Park. Tall, mature trees surround the lawn, so the fountain feels sheltered rather than exposed. Joggers, cyclists, and dog walkers pass along the paths nearby. The lake brings its own sounds — ducks, geese, and the splash of oars from boats on the water when the season allows.

Hyde Park itself is one of the largest open spaces in central London, and it belongs to the Royal Parks, which also care for this memorial. For centuries the park has been a place for royal hunting, public gatherings, protests, and concerts. Against that long and sometimes loud background, this memorial offers something quieter. It does not tell you a story with inscriptions or carved faces. It gives you water, stone, grass, and the space to think.

If you visit at different times, you will meet a different place. In the morning, the light comes low across the lawn and catches the moving water. On a hot afternoon, the edges are crowded and full of voices. On a grey winter day, you may find it almost empty, with only the sound of the stream. The memorial changes with the weather and the people around it — which feels fitting for someone so many strangers felt close to.

Before you leave, find the still pool at the lowest point of the ring. Stand there for a moment. Notice how the two streams, after their separate journeys, arrive at the same calm surface. Then look up across the grass, past the trees, towards the Serpentine. As you walk away, listen for how long the sound of the water follows you. It fades slowly — a rush, a murmur, and then just the ordinary sounds of the park.