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It seemed especially chilly this morning as His Lordship and I headed out to check on Easter tourists thronging the streets. The visitors now encompass classroom quantities of foreign schoolchildren on cultural jollies. Today it was a crocodile of French students, young and well behaved but occupying the whole pavement and walking at snails’ pace, if you pardon the mixed metaphors.

I have yet to perfect the response to being behind a large group of people and having to walk at the speed of the slowest one. Do I exert patience or do I take to the busy roadway and overtake? This morning I braved the road to get myself ahead and breathe a sigh of relief at an open pavement before me.

Most people were well wrapped up against the ‘feels like 2°’ temperature, but the young lady in my blip appeared unseasonably attired even though her open coat seemed warm enough, but fishnet tights and wedge soled sandals would not have withstood the unwelcome chill. She seemed like an exotic bird amongst the dull native species.