Westminster in the Morning

There's a line in a new play that I saw recently, Loyalty, about the intelligence that led to England's entry into America's war on terrorism; I don't remember the exact wording but it's something like, "MI6 are like the Met - usually wrong but really all you've got to go on."

I've been laughing over that all day, mostly because - at least regarding the weather service - it's spot on.  When I woke up at 7:30 this morning it was brisk and sunny, the sky studded with a few fleecy clouds.  It poured earlier this afternoon.  At the moment, I can't see anything but blue when I look up.  (All this, when yesterday the BBC predicted overcast skies with a low chance of precipitation consistently throughout the day.)  Who knows what will happen next?

I spent the night at a new friend's flat yesterday; a bunch of us went back to his after closing down the pub for some continued merriment.  (Simmer down, guys, I stayed on the couch.)  He lives in the Dean's Yard at Westminster Abbey - nbd, as the kids say - and although when we walked through the imposing security gate at midnight I absolutely took it for granted that naturally we were going into an area usually restricted to the public (after all, it's about who you know, darling), this morning I was a bit more starstruck.

Let me tell you: Westminster at 7:30am is empty, save for a few very determined tourists checking historical buildings off their lists, a few very determined revelers at the tail end of what I'm sure was a great night out, and a very determined young Asian couple in full wedding garb who were being trailed by an equally determined photographer.  In fact, the only person I saw on the street lacking in determination was me.  I spent most of my walk from the abbey to Waterloo blinking blearily, trying to clear the contacts from my eyes.

However, even in my morning-after state, I recognized that a Westminster lacking in things-that-get-in-the-way-of-photos (like people and cars and, you know, things) was an opportunity too good to pass up.

And there it is - there, just there, in the corner of my mind, as it hasn't been in quite some time: the oh-my-God-I-live-here feeling.  I catch the feeling, and I enjoy it, and then I think, "Why, yes; yes, I do."  And I enjoy that feeling, too.