London Revisited: “Ageing is optional here”

In the old days in London I loved seeing that sea of gentlemen marching from various directions into the city in the mornings, bowler hated and carrying umbrellas, looking much as they had done for generations. Now, in the harder, more frantic surroundings of Canary Wharf, people on escalators on their way from one appointment to another barked questions into mobile phones as to whether the Singapore people had responded yet, and if not, could we get an answer, and soon? Have the Vancouver office confirmed that all important close date? When can we expect to wrap it up? Call me anytime — day or night — we need closure!

The pace was frenetic as hundreds of young bloods poured off escalators, walked incredibly fast, carrying their bags of Sushi and mineral water. Lunch for some is still for wimps, it seems. But not for the staff of one of the biggest Sushi outlets, three of whom I spotted on another wing of the mall, wearing their distinctive uniforms, tucking into the most enormous ham and cheese rolls.

Canary Wharf is a place where even in a downturn, the mood is upbeat. Outside a beauty treatment centre I was enchanted by a sign that announced: “Ageing is optional here.” London has always delivered for me.

I loved the range of restaurants where I could eat Italian antipasti, Spanish Iberico ham, Jungle Curry at the Sri Nam, the very best fish and chips in Browns. I found The Parlour, a place so ultra trendy, so geared to its customers, that the small metal pots containing herbs of basil, rosemary and thyme on each table were wrapped in a page of the Financial Times.

At a glorious long lunch there I watched a couple of old hands sitting outside, their thin knitted waistcoats buttoned under their older, formal dark suits. They sat drinking vast glasses of red wine and smoking, looking through bleary, weary eyes at the younger men in striped shirts, jackets slung over shoulders, security tags attached to expensive belts, as they drank mineral water, their tables covered with an assortment of mobiles, Blackerries, iPads. Moira Cameron, Warder

Nattily dressed and high heeled women, some looking marvellously Botoxxed, came out of the restaurant, chatting loudly and gathered at a table in the alfresco dining area. They carried small glasses of chilled white wine, lit up cigarettes with pricey lighters and blew smoke in the air, tossing their expensive coiffed hair.

I found the sights, including the vivid red heels and lips, thoroughly exhilarating. One of the older men, who looked like he might still have a bowler hat somewhere, having given the women a not entirely friendly look, went back to his paper with a little sigh. I wondered if he was mourning another, less frantic era.

I love progress and London still has all the magic for me. Yes, I love the glass and steel, but there is something and somebody special that connects me with hundred of years of history. I can claim as a friend someone who, every working day, puts on a uniform that very, very few can wear, and goes to work for the Queen. I am honoured indeed to know Moira Cameron, who will walk into the history books as the first Lady Yeoman at the Tower of London.

1. Renzo Piano-designed 'Shard' building in London opening to the public on July 5, 2012. The Shard (formerly known as London Bridge Tower) is the tallest building in the European Union

2. Moira Cameron, first woman to hold the post of a Yeoman Warder of the Tower of London, England

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London Revisited: “Ageing is optional here”

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