You can’t have it all your own way. Wednesday evening I joined the end of a very long queue outside St Bartholomew the Great in Smithfield that stretched all the way down Cloth Fair, hoping to see the Dickens Christmas Carol performance. A nice lady told us that around 150 people were queuing for just two seats and it might be best to give up rather than wait in the rain.
However, on Sunday I did a fantastic walk with my sister exploring the Central London Christmas lights. We started at the Tudor Middle Temple Hall with its wonderful display of Christmas trees outside the 16th century hall, which I think is the most Christmassy place in the whole of London. And there wasn’t a soul around. We strolled past Temple Church with its solitary tree then moved on to Somerset House Ice Rink with the whole scene looking quite majestic and vaguely 19th Century Imperial. We stood on the piazza at Aldwych and admired the lights of the Strand, before heading up to the beautiful chaos of Covent Garden where street performers terrified children beneath enormous decorative bells. Seven Dials was a suspended flying carpet of illuminations.

Henry Pordes bookshop in Charing Cross Road won the award for charm over bombast. Leicester Square was surprising beguiling, Regent Street St James’s had a subtle enchantment. We marvelled at the incredible display at Fortnum and Mason on Piccadilly and were intoxicated by the gated glimpse of Burlington Arcade and Piccadilly Arcade. The final leg of our Christmas Lights tour took us along Old Bond Street where Cartier wowed the crowds, New Bond Street with Dior. We had to take a rest in the Masons Arms where a couple of pints reset our concept of reality. Finally we did the classics – Regent Street, and ending appropriately on Oxford Street.