Today, two rivers run silently though London, one is called the River Thames, the other is known by another name: fear.
The coronavirus has come amongst us.
Its arrival was gradual at first. Via news reports of surreal events in far-off places it seemed to drift towards the city before suddenly striking. Panic was its first work. No one was dead as yet, but the empty shelves of food stores evidenced the force that had begun to tighten its hold on, and will increasingly consume, a bewildered populace. Since that first silent arrival, this unseen virus is now to be evidenced everywhere: in every street, in every home, and upon every face.