It is a bizarre thing to watch London wake up.
Paddington station, in all its bustle and busy-ness, stands eerily empty in the early hours of the first train departures. What will become a haven of commuters and tourists, a constant flow of people gathered and sent across the furthest reaches of the South and West of the uk, starts its new day in a civilised silence. People wait. Coffee is ground. The sky, ink black for the journey in, begins to be tinted with purple and promise. What has become a haven for the heathrow arrivals, and shelter for westminster's hidden homeless, once again begins to breath and sigh under the weight of the arterial flow of people minding the gap or merely passing through. **********************************************************************Please consider the environment before printing this e-mail or its attachments.
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