Again our time flew and we packed our equipment together and walked through the hall to the exit. The sun outside was too bright after the low lighting and muted concentration of the chamber, the traffic too loud. Crowds of tourists queued amongst petrol fumes and my anxiety was the question of return. I had only arranged these two visits, leaving it open to re negotiate the others as and when was necessary. This of course gave the Serjeant at Arms leeway to bar my re-entry if it were deemed that my face did not fit or that I was some republican with ulterior motives. My task now is to look at the work I have made and consider it’s worth.

It’s soon to be summer, and Parliament will close.

3rd day [6th November 2000] 7.30am

It was cold and raining when we met. Laurent was sitting hunched on a bench, alone on St Stephen’s green, as the early morning traffic crawled into London, the weather thrashing around him. Summer had been demanding, travel to America and Europe had sharpened my appetite for this task. To see England from a distance is always beneficial, one understood it’s position in the world so much more fully. The position of the monarchy appears particularly precarious and open to ridicule.

[For Americans particularly, the Windsors are not much more than one amongst many attractions, I fear that the British nation regards them similiarly, our status as subjects largely hidden within citizenship]

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