The rain was falling in the last days of summer and Londoners flooded the streets, spilling over the Mall to the gates of the palace and throughout the adjoining streets – a heave of humanity to mark the end of something significant, certain, quiet, dignified, implacable.
London had assumed a golden quality to this Australian, coming from a long, cold winter. The city is bustling. Restaurants, galleries and museums are full. Raucous drinkers spill out of pubs on to the pavements. Cyclists scream past on their bikes, nudging cars politely out of the way.
