To the right are the backs of the buildings on Downing Street- where police in black uniforms linger discretely- and you have to look closely to see they are holding black weapons to their black chests- all very English and understated. Ailz noted that one of them was also holding his lunch in a black lunch-box. Straight ahead is the Horse Guards Building- 18th century- from a design by William Kent- who died before work on it began. It's pretty and Palladian and belongs to an age when soldiers wore toy-town uniforms and most of what they actually did- which wasn't so pretty- was done off-shore.
You go under the arch and out into Whitehall- which is full of people- some in movement and some forming knots in front of things they've heard about- guardsmen in their finery for instance or the entry to Downing Street- so dark on a sunny November morning it was like a cleft in a cliff- and you had to squint to make out detail in the gloom. We dodged down King Charles Street- which is lined on both sides with government offices- massive and mid-Victorian- and the people were no longer there- because this is not a place they know about- and the street sweeper had it almost all to himself. The buildings on the left belong to Philip Hammond and those on the right to Boris Johnson. Temporarily of course. Was that their voices we could hear, echoing around the inaccessible, inner courts? Probably not. At the far end there's a glimpse into St James's Park which is like the vision of a more excellent way.