YesBut it's Sunday

Have I gone deaf? No, it’s Sunday and the City streets are quiet. Commuters are in their homes, performing their Sunday rituals: sex with the wife, reading the Sunday newspapers, washing the car and then a gentle stroll to the pub for a pint, then home for lunch. Another typical English Sunday.

I drawback the bedroom curtains, dull grey day. The river Thames flows by green brown. Sunday Monday Tuesday, May June July, 2007 2008 2009, all the same for this historic river which has witnessed over a millennium the building of a city on its banks, passed by unconcerned as angry Members of Parliament have debated world events in the Palace of Westminster. Now tourist boats bob on its service where previously tramp steamers have brought goods from a far distant Empire.

Things are beginning to stir, a group of cyclists pass south over the bridge on a sponsored cycle ride - £1 may be £5 collected for charity for every bridge crossed. The walkway by the Thames is still tourist free; they are still ensconced in their Hotels and Bed & Breakfast establishments. Grease is wiped from chins dribbled there while eating their full English Breakfast of bacon, egg, sausage baked beans and to ensure their cholesterol gets a boost fried bread.

“Where shall we go?”. Too dull for a walk in Hyde Park,. The shops in Oxford Street don’t open until 11 o’clock. “How about Tate Modern or Petty Coat Lane Street market?”


May, it started so warm and sunny now it’s so dull. Let’s go back to bed.

At least one person is out and about. Click here to see more.