Greetings from London, where I’ve been signing copies of the new edition of “Miss Dior” @hatchardspiccadilly - and walking through the streets of St James, Green Park and Knightsbridge, between various appointments. It was a momentous day to be in this part of London - there were thousands of people of all ages streaming towards Buckingham Palace and Westminster, with flowers in their hands. I made my own solitary pilgrimage to Bruton Street, just a few yards from Berkeley Square, where the Queen was born at home in her parents’ Mayfair townhouse in 1926. It felt very evocative to be at Hatchards - the oldest bookshop in London, and the supplier to generations of Royal Households - as well as weaving my way through the back streets, to avoid the surging crowds. I’ve always preferred to seek out the pulse of history in quiet places... but there was a sense of hush even amidst the massed spectators lined up to see Queen Elizabeth’s final journey across the capital. Anyway, I’ve just boarded a train home to Norfolk - very busy, yet mercifully muted, and all the passengers looking slightly dazed, including me. What a strange, tumultuous time this is... So much history and communal emotion compressed into a few, brief days...