What other city in the world would close its main thoroughfares at
peak hour so that military marching bands could put in a bit of
practice on the streets?
I couldn't understand why tonight's
traffic was at a standstill until I went to take my exit off Parliament
Square and found the whole street cordoned off. Don't tell anyone, but
I ignored the NO ENTRY sign and cycled up the street until I came to a
policeman blocking the rest of the route down Bird Cage Walk.
"Can I go down there?" I asked him.
"Sorry, no."
"What about Horse Guards Parade?"
"No, that's out of bounds too. But you can take your bike and walk through St James' Park."
"Great,"
I replied. (I might point out it was pissing down with rain at the time
and I didn't much like the idea of taking a stroll through the park as
if I had all the time in the world.)
"But if you get back on the bike," he said, "I'll pretend I didn't see you."
Nice
idea, although I'm not sure his hundreds of colleagues swarming through
the park would be prepared to turn a blind eye. So I walked. Slowly.
Through the park. And admired the pelicans on the pond, the lupines in
bloom in the flower beds and the beefy-looking soldiers marching by me all immaculate in green wool capes, berets and shiny black boots.
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