It's a bit like Downton Abbey here on a Sunday morning. Me in the basement preparing Ed's breakfast - cheese, ham and tomato toastie; hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows ('if we don't have marshmallows then make some'); a croissant stuffed with raspberries; a mug of tea...
His bedroom door was still shut when I went up (he'd telephoned his order down earlier) and as I was carrying the tray I pushed the door open with my back and entered the room. Ed was in bed watching the TV. I was expecting to be greeted with more than a hissed 'be quiet' after all my effort but had forgotten it was Remembrance Sunday and had to stop in my tracks until the Last Post sounded. I was then invited to sit on the edge of the bed and watch as the Queen, the Royal Family and everyone else laid their wreaths at the Cenotaph. London was at it's most beautiful and beguiling. A light November haze accentuated shafts of winter sunlight filtered through autumn trees. That bloke's voiceover on the BBC as one by one all the dignitaries solemnly step forward - it's just all so atmospheric and very moving.
So, stuff Clissold Park for a dog walk - we headed into town, dropped Ed at Pineapple in Covent Garden and wandered through Trafalgar Square and down towards Westminster. Whitehall was closed to traffic and the legions of servicemen and women had dispersed and were standing in the sunshine outside pubs enjoying a drink and a reminisce. They admired whippets and we admired medals beside the sea of poppies.
