Magic

It’s a cold winter’s night and I hurry along Jermyn Street, past antique windows filled with the gentlemanly luxuries of another age. Passing Abracadabra, I see a man in a harlequin costume and a black woolly hat standing in the entrance to the restaurant, arms wrapped around himself to try and keep warm. He looks ridiculous and fed up, and as our eyes meet, he flashes me a look that says, quite simply, ‘Don’t judge me.’