Only thirty minutes ago, though, H1 and I went for a lovely walk down by the river and through the streets of a post-apocalyptic London. If you've ever watched Danny Boyle's 28 Days Later, you've probably a) not slept normally ever since, and b) wondered how on earth they filmed it, when London is always packed and teeming. Now I know. He just waited until a big football game was on.
It was really quite eerie, which is not a good feeling on a romantic walk on a summer's day. The only other people who were out were few and far between, and were all female. Many were in bikinis. This, too, is not a good feeling on a romantic walk. H1 commented on this. Several times. Several times too many, as I gently yet pointedly noted. He grew quiet. I grew quiet. A tumbleweed blew across the road.
Now, the game (GAME - people of London, particularly those in Fulham, please remember that) has finished. Traffic is running again. The siren count is no higher than earlier. Everything is back to normal (although there are those who would disagree). But I, for one, have seen the alternative to a crushed, overcrowded, smelly, London, and it is scary, even without zombies. I shall never complain about the hordes of people again*.
*This is a lie. This is like saying I will never drink again. It's said with good intentions, but followed through with rather less.