Early

My flight landed first thing in the morning, and I decided to go into work. The train from Gatwick brought me into central London by seven, a time when I would normally still be in my semi-suburban home. I saw familiar surroundings at an unfamiliar hour. The sun was shining and I took my time, dropping a couple of gears down from the usual London hurry. I wheeled my case and looked at the buildings. The city is different at this time. Streets are mostly clear of people. This is the hour of the city's invisibles, the modern versions of the nightsoilmen, who go about cleaning, shining afresh all those windows in new office and retail constructions, scrubbing away the last day's detritus before the salaried reclaim the city an hour or so later. It's also London at its most migrant, and at its blackest.