We are to be careful on 1st and 2nd of April.
Protestors will be in town, in my manor, intruding in my space.
I am told to dress down, perhaps work from home, don't make eye contact, avoid crowds etc.
I remember ten years ago Mayday 1999, being trapped in a building off Canon Street for a Friday afternoon as riot police tried to hold the line against somewhat violent protestors. Leaving the office later in the day the ground was thick with broken glass, there was no traffic and of course McDonalds was trashed.
Being a prudent individual I will withdraw from the space which I regard as mine - the City, and all the little side streets and cycle ways which lead me there. I will work from home but I will follow the news to see how all the visitors treat the streets I know and love.
I hope the protests will be like those on Saturday - peaceful and fun. But the presence of so many world leaders in our capital is , I am told , likely to draw in anarchists and facists from Germany and Italy and France whose approach to protest is one of violence.
For the next two days the City is yours. But on third it will be mine again.

Anger is a terrible thing. So I try not to go there too often.
But I was frightfully annoyed (much more English) on Saturday.
Having left the Mothers Day shop until the eve of the great day, I drove to Islington which provides a very pleasant shopping experience and a good array of emporia for the unfocused shopper to peruse whilst finding the appropriate gift.
Arriving at one of the backstreets near the Angel at around 12.50, I parked and scrutinised the parking regulations displayed on a board and on the pay and display machine.Parking had to be paid for until 1.30 pm after that point parking was free. The pay and display ticket machine is designed to take credit cards but that functionality was out of action. I pumped in all the coins I had in my pocket to find that this would only cover me until 1.19pm. A gap of eleven minutes.
I weighed up the pros and cons. Should I retrieve my coins, go to a petrol station or somewhere else where I could park without risk of punishment, get some change, return to the spot and pay and display? Or should I take a chance that for eleven minutes this street would be clear of parking enforcement officers?
I decided to risk it.
I went shopping , purchased some nice little gifts, and returned to the car.
And of course there was a parking ticket (£40) on the car issued at 1.21pm ie two minutes after my ticket expired.
Naturally I was wrong to break the clearly stated parking regulations.
But I do feel frightfully annoyed , perhaps even angry , that one little slip up for the little person can be very expensive, whilst others seem to do pretty well financially out of much bigger cock-ups.
As I would have said aged six "It's not fair."

City of Light

It is half past twelve on a week day in Newgate Street. The March sun is unusually warm and those employed in the numerous offices which dominate the locality are perambulating under its benevolent gaze some with the deliberate intent which comes from a clear sense of purpose and importance in life; others are more relaxed realising that the sooner they achieve the objective of their journey, the sooner they will have to return to the sunless office building where they spend the best days and years of their lives.
A large part of life is timing. And a key dimension to timing is contrasts. In these few days of March we experience the upside of a change from cold,grey, dreary, demoralising weather to warm, inspiring, sunny weather. Without changing our daily routines or getting on an aeroplane we are transformed from the bleakness of Hamburg on the Baltic sea with it’s Artic winds and infinite variety of greyness, to Milan or Barcelona, where the sun shines through arches and temporarily blinds those emerging from office bunkers and people chat in pavement cafes. That London can never really imbibe pavement café culture, because the pavements are the wrong size and shape, and attempts to put tables outside look (and are) a contrived attempt to ape our Continental cousins, and that men shiver in their shirtsleeves as they feed they tobacco addiction on street corners, is somehow not the point.
There are no spaces on the benches which face the sun: co-workers get better acquainted as they eat their sandwiches outside. Dedicated runners jog round the City streets. Those handing out free-newspapers smile inwardly as they prepare for the afternoons work, knowing that today at least frostbite is not a concern.
And the splendour of the City is enhanced by Nature. The huge glass towers reflect shimmering light into the street, so that the walker is confused as to where the sun is in the sky. The clear blue sky provides a perfect backdrop to church spires and especially the dome of St Pauls. The many, well maintained green spaces, mainly churchyards, provide an oasis of nature with aged trees thrusting upwards, chasing the towers created by man.
It’s a pain having to be at work on a day like today.