London is, without a doubt, one of the two main financial centres of the known universe, and also a city that should be heaving with tourists at this time of year — particularly on a gloriously sunny day like this.
And it’s dead. We’re in big trouble. Ignore the politicians — they can’t think more than a week ahead.
It’s the end of the working week but there’s still some cleaning up to do, after the mess that everyone else has left. Symbolic of things in my own week? I’ll leave that up to you to ponder.
The end of a week, and some relaxation time was definitely called for. This one spot outside Calan’s holds the sunshine for as long as is becoming possible at this time of year, as the days decline. Clare makes the most of this, even though (and she did pre-approve the use of this pic) it does make her look like she is sporting some fine sideburns.
It might only have been a three-day week as far as I was concerned — but I’m still allowed to enjoy getting to the end of it.
Friday night in the pub – the world outside passes by, but the working week (a 6-day one for me) is over.
