8:30am, City of London.
The suits are back on, but the shops are still boarded up.
Commuters emerge blinking from Bank tube station, greeted by the smell of hardening horse manure. And graffitti:
“All Cops Are Cunts”
Circled A’s, Hearts, slogans of varying triteness.
There are police standing where the private security guards were yesterday morning.
I can’t stop a big smile spreading across my face.