I just got home from my daily trundle. It was just one of my regular routes, past the Royal Standard, through Charlton and Woolwich, along the river to North Greenwich then home via bus. It was cold but the sky was clear and blue, and as I was going I was struck by a feeling of pleasant familiarity. I was going through areas I know well, and which all now trigger warm, pleasant memories. Places which have a homely, relaxing quality for me: parks where I remember watching cricket matches, cafes where I remember drinking coffee; the path along the Thames, flowing imperiously eastward as it has done since before the beginning of history, along which I have now rolled many times. Thus in spite of the cold I couldn’t help feeling a hint of spring in the air, as if the metropolis about me was telling me that a wonderful new year was on the horizon. The future of the wider world may seem troubled and uncertain, yet the timeless beauty of this city, of its parks and rivers and grand historic buildings, will always shine through. In them there is always the potential for something incredible; and, like the river flowing through it, the city will remain constant as it has always been, no matter the folly of the world around it. Whenever I need to remind myself of that, I know I just need to head out for a trundle.