I sit on the stairs of Trafalgar Square, Nelson is my watchman. Grey clouds are flying past with a wind on their back. The wind is on my back, it gets into my coat. I am in London, I am in London and I sit in its heart. I’ve been on the tube and had to rise for air. I’ve tasted Kaffeine coffee. I’ve been pushed along Regent Street. I’ve watched the Piccidily Circus screens with TV eyes. I’ve met eye to eye with the horse of the horse-guard at Whitehall. I’ve looked up to Big Ben and across Parliament Square where hundreds flocked with beers in hand. And this is just the start.