A London Moment

Having just watched The Constant Gardener, heads full of the horror of companies and countries treating the poor and black in Africa as petri dishes not people, we walked out into Mayfair. One of the richest areas of Central London, it is stuffed with expensive hotels and restaurants and, as we headed back to the Tube, we went past both the front and back door of one such establishment known worldwide for its chef and prices. At the main entrance stood the doorman, white, grey-haired, in a dark Crombie-like coat. At the back stood two tall black men in aprons, next to several plastic crates full of pheasants. There must have been a hundred birds, two hundred meals.The men were pulling something off their necks then throwing them into black plastic bags. Kenya, it seems, had resurfaced in Curzon Street: the white guarding the door, the black clearing the rubbish.