About 12 years ago, while living in Portobello, I was due to spend Christmas Day in Bethnal Green with a good friend of mine and her young son. Waking up on Christmas morning I was struck by how bright it was outside. Like a typical Londoner, it doesn’t matter how cold it is, as long as the suns shining we’re up for venturing out. So, I decided to walk. I didn’t have a fixed plan to walk all the way to Bethnal Green from Notting Hill, just a vague notion that I might jump in a cab somewhere along the way, if I got knackered, or if the cold got to me. From Notting Hill Gate, it’s pretty much a straight road through the West End on to Holborn, Clerkenwell and then Old Street, the gateway to East London. To put this in context, these days I can hardly be bothered to walk from Dalston to Shoreditch, so it was clear there was more than the good old rays of sun powering me on. Unsurprisingly there weren’t many people out on Christmas Day as I journeyed East from West. However, those who were out all shared a Christmas greeting. There were plenty of nods, smiles and twinkly eyes, and more exchanges of ‘Merry Christmas’ with strangers than I can ever remember. I can still clearly picture one particularly cheery couple in Hyde Park who stopped for a chat, and even now whenever I pass that stretch between Lancaster Gate and Marble Arch, I always remember them with a smile and my marathon walk on Christmas Day.