A solemn weekend and the Lord Mayor's Show.

A solemn weekend and the Lord Mayor's Show.

On this most solemn weekend of mourning, remembrance and commemoration it might be as well to point out that today saw that most traditional of street processions. For as long any of us can recall the Lord Mayor's Show, during the second week of November, has always confirmed London's place as the centre of national attention, a carnival of colour and much civic pride. The capital city always knows how to put on a street party in the closing weeks of the year and today was no different.

It remains one of the most symbolic days in the English social calendar when the pomp and pageantry of the Lord Mayor's Show decorates the whole of the City of London with those vivid paint brushes of colour that gives it its distinctive character. If only Dick Whittington had known that, hundreds of years after his passing, his status as the first Lord Mayor was still be being rousingly celebrated, then maybe this is right time to show our appreciation once again for the man who occupied so exalted a role.

This morning at the heart of the financial powerhouse that is the Bank of England, the City of London played host to yet another parade of old livery companies, age old crafts, the whole spectrum of all those respectable professions who have served their country for so many years, decades and centuries with a modest understatement and quiet dignity.

There were the huge floats, significant representatives from the worlds of commerce and trade with warm homages to those hard working men and women who dedicate so much of their lives tirelessly and unstintingly to their industries and their locally unsung skills. There were the men and women in their joyfully hilarious costumes, the inflatable St Paul's Cathedral and Big Ben outfits, smiling and waving to families and children with almost barely repressed delight and more incessant cheering.

At the beginning of the parade of course the yearly rites are observed. The new Lord Mayor Peter Estlin sipped his satisfying tot of rum and so it was that the Lord Mayor's Show began that happy-go-lucky journey from the Bank to its fabled destination of the Mansion House. Behind, a fresh faced, well scrubbed formation of Royal Marines cadets, immaculately suited and booted, stood to attention most respectfully and made their disciplined way onto those first moments of a famous mile walk to kick off the festivities.

Above the Royal Marines a similarly well regimented group of seagulls squawked loudly and clearly, boisterous birds who may have felt privately privileged to be a part of  today's Lord Mayor's Show. It almost felt like their very own act of duty and deference on a day when the world thought of those who had lost their dearly beloved and when a century after the end of  World War One everything assumed a raw, emotional poignancy.

And then it all started. There were the smartly attired marching bands, the drummers merrily swirling their obedient drum sticks, rifles tightly perched on straight shoulders. Then there were the resounding bagpipers adding that very unique blend of Scottish melody and verse. And all the while there were more floats, a vast cornucopia of everything England and Britain holds so dear, the Worshipful company of Solicitors, chartered accountants, the basket weavers with their delicately woven creations, twisted wicker resulting in the most perfect basket.

You couldn't help but notice that the London skyline provides quite the most unique of any backdrops to any Lord Mayor's Show. It was hard to believe now that the landmarks that the tourists had always flocked to in their droves were now witnessing something of a major change. For almost as long as any of us can remember London has always had its Embankment, the BT Tower, formerly known as the Post Office Tower, the clearly visible House of Commons and until recently a Big Ben before it was dressed up in hideous scaffolding. This had everything to do with this wonderful timepiece needing a radical wash, clean and brush up as well as important maintenance work that will take years to complete.

This morning though the London landscape now looks almost unrecognisable from those days of yesteryear. There are those classically designed buildings which, although very striking, sometimes look almost surreally ornamental. The Walkie Talkie does indeed resemble that crucial means of communication, the Cheese Grater may look far more at home in the domestic kitchen and the Shard looked like one of those modern architectural wonders that may take some time to get used to.

Meanwhile, back on the ground the City of London was having a ball. There were ancient steam engines hooting and honking, clearly announcing themselves as steam engines; trumpets and bugles blaring away determinedly and with surging conviction. The Worshipful Company of Solicitors joined in as well with a prominent nod to the future as space age men and women swirled and swayed from side to side, a fine, upstanding organisation full of impressive flourishes.

 There were those familiar sounding fairground organs, the Salvation Army ladies  in their tambourine shaking  pomp and the women's suffragette movement reminded us all how the struggle for female equality would always be marked.  And then the British Army of Paras, cloaked in brown military khaki, the Paratroopers who swooped from great heights during the fiercest of conflicts and never shirked for a single moment when it all looked too overwhelming for everybody concerned.

Then there were the children in the crowd standing closely next to their families cheerfully waving their flags and making that Hooray sound as if the innocence of youth would never leave them. Suddenly, the farming industry made its welcome appearance and the world of agriculture had been instantly recognised. Huge combine harvesters and, quite possibly, a number of tractors trundled past, the swelling crowds singing, you felt sure, the praises of wheat, barley and innumerable crops.

By now the Lord Mayor's Show was beginning to wind itself down to a close carefully and gently as it always seems to have done. The new mayor Peter Estlin acknowledged the applause of those who had lined the streets of the City of London so patiently. He took off his feathered red hat , thanked everybody for being there and then undoubtedly enjoyed a hearty lunch at the Mansion House with the lady Mayoress wife.

Another Lord Mayor's Show had passed into history once again and the grey November skies never really looked as though they would open up with torrents of rain. We all know that 100 years have now come and gone, the thunder of the guns still echoing around the heartbroken graves of the soldiers who quite literally gave blood, sweat and tears.

For a while though this morning, the blessed visitation of peace  has fallen over the land. The world is not quite the one some of us might have been hoping for, the sense of anger, violence, war and upheaval an ever present threat. But at the centre of a thriving City of London, the Lord Mayor's Show, with all its amusing and light hearted themes, continued to raise the spirits of those who may think that  society is doomed and we may just as well give up now. So Peter Estlin. May your year of mayoralty be as successful as the one Dick Whittington may well have had. Sadly, though the pantomime season is not quite with us so this is not the time to boo and hiss. Three cheers for the new Lord Mayor of London. Hip Hip Hooray!