Slow life | 13 December 2008

A 2,000-year-old thoroughfare, St Martin’s Lane, and certainly one of my favourite places; contender, any time of year, for the world’s most festive location. On Saturday afternoon, a carnival of mad shoppers, confused sometimes, crossing roads without looking; arguing, pointing, dashing this way and that, laden down and worn out or grinning and just holding on to each other, half-drunk and completely in love. In another life I lived at the top end of the lane, at Seven Dials, and it was thrilling to be there again all of a sudden, after a frozen morning as still as a picture in the countryside. Now, all this grime and glamour were in perfect counterpoint, countless theatres lit up like permanent Christmas trees boasting huge, friendly faces and spelling out happiness in big, bright letters. Endless open invitations to linger, and networks of tiny alleyways, some so small you could miss them for years.