Hello trees, hello sky, hello armoured riot police

What a beautiful day, I thought, as I nodded to the porter in the bowler hat and stepped out of the Westminster hotel into October sun and wind, with a dramatic, fast-forwarding sky overhead, and the dry crackle of leaves underfoot. Lovely London. Solid, masculine, powerful, exciting London. Beautiful London. Outside Westminster Abbey the pavements were thronged with tourists pointing their cameras and smartphones at anything and everything, from the traffic cops to the decorative spikes on the railings. Pret à Manger was packed with riot police in full battledress queueing nicely for their mid-morning caffeine fix.

I crossed over the road into Parliament Square and passed a statue of what looked like a black troll. The figure was stooped, possibly owing to the weight of its oversized head. Closer inspection revealed that it was a statue of Nelson Mandela. His outstretched hands were positioned like those of the fisherman boasting ‘it was that big’.