Clear, crisp winter air. Empty pavements. Desolate roads. The sound of your own footsteps in central London. Not a creature stirring, not even a siren.
It’s not Covid, it’s not 28 Days Later, it’s better. It’s London at Christmas. At times the capital can be so empty in December, especially after the Christmas Eve getaway rush, that you almost feel like you could swim naked in the Nine Elms sky pool and no one would notice. It is complete, undeniable bliss.
