Chapter ThreeHave you ever been up the West End on a Saturday night? How jolly and gay it is! The bright lights turn the darkest of nights into a rainbow tinged playground, with people of all shapes, sizes, nationalities and persuasions rubbing shoulders with each other. Here a toff in a top hat, here a shop boy dressed up for the night in his best bowler. A soldier in a red tunic next to a c******n with a long pipe sticking out of his mouth. And the ladies! How beautiful and sweetly perfumed they are, dressed in their finest silks and bows and parasols. The very air seems intoxicating and you cannot help but be swept along by the revelry and the joy of it all.
Poppy and myself stopped by the statue of Shakespeare in Leicester Square and took in the sweet night air. The girls had split up
