* In Camden, traffic was stopped as a mother and her two young daughters crossed the road with grace and at a leisurely pace. Mother gave a lookaway wave as thanks, and daughter followed suit, keeping her chin high and back straight, a perfect mimic at the age of 4.
* Atop Parliament Hill the vista was lit bright by overnight rain and a burst of sunshine. A cloud shadow moved slowly across London before me, dulling in turn Kings Cross, St Pauls, the pickle and Canary Warf.
* In a nearby street a blue plaque told me George Orwell had once lived in a house at the end of a long terrace, metres from the Heath.
* On the Heath a grown man flew a kite in the middle of Wednesday afternoon, alone on a vast expanse of grass. Perhaps he was a modern day Orwell clearing a moment of writers block.
* An old lady slowly carrying her shopping home, stopped at an anonymous corner and threw some breadcrumbs to expectant pigeons. She shuffled onward, a daily pleasure fulfilled.
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