Oranges and Lemons

I've been working up in the Big Smoke again for a little over five weeks, and I'm finding that I just adore walking through the streets and passageways of The City, for that is where my office is based.

The walk from Liverpool Street Station south towards the Thames is a wonderful juxtaposition of the old and the new. The blue gherkin that has graced the skyline for just half a decade sits peacefully and aesthetically alongside the myriad of small churches and old establishment buldings that house such historical institutions as the Bank of England.

The huge NatWest tower, which dwarfs pretty much every other bulding in the capital with the possible exception of Centre Point and Canary Wharf, rises from behind a beautiful old corner building that sits barely three stories high, but which is crowned by a series of ornate and exquisitely carved statues who seem to guard it like a small army of ancient Briton warriors.

Most intriguing of all, though, is the Church of St Clements, which is just around the corner from my office block. Famous for the bells of the old childrens nursery rhyme, there is often an old priest who sits on the narrow steps, dressed in his imaculate black cassock, and holding a tin which invites donations, though he never solicits for them, but merely smiles at us commuters as we stroll by on our way to work.

One of these days I'm going to drop a couple of pounds in his tin and go and have a look inside, but for now I'm enjoying my daily walk through this vibrant and wonderful city that counts only Paris as a serious rival for my favourite city in the world.