If you remember going to Covent Garden you probably remember it was busy. I went on Sunday morning and it was very much not busy, it was at best dormant and at worst dead.
The market hall where London's fruit and vegetables were sold, originally in 1654, undercover since 1830, relocated to Nine Elms in 1974, was empty. Normally you'd expect to see tourists milling around on the steps down to the candle shop, but this year London has no tourists and the candle shop is closed, in fact it closed years ago which just shows how long it is since you last visited.
The central passageway, lined with shops which cannot be described as essential because they sell Moomins and macaroons, was empty. Normally you'd expect to be jostled by foreign visitors who think Covent Garden is historic, rather than an over-priced retail opportunity, but there were no foreign visitors because nobody is going to risk a fortnight's quarantine just to buy chocolate and sunglasses.
The piazza in front of St Paul's Church, the so-called Actors' Church, outside which Samuel Pepys recorded the first known Punch and Judy show, was empty. Normally you'd expect a crowd of boggled spectators surrounding a juggling unicyclist whipping up a frenzy, but there were no acrobats because there are no spectators and it's pointless performing if nobody can leave banknotes afterwards.
The Apple Market, part of a landmark which the GLC once planned to demolish in order to build an international conference centre, was empty. Normally you'd expect it to be lined by artworks of dubious quality incorporating red telephone boxes, maybe even Union Jack jewellery, but it's a tough time to be a purveyor of handmade goods targeted at an undiscerning demographic holed up hundreds of miles away.
The North Hall, originally designed by Charles Fowler, its iron and glass roof supported on granite pillars quarried in Aberdeenshire, was empty. Normally you'd expect some busker to be kicking up a racket for an audience who appreciate inoffensive guitar, but all was silent apart from two workmen in full protective gear disinfecting the counter of Buns and Buns in readiness for so-called outdoor dining.
The Great Piazza, as the splendid space facing the Royal Opera House was once known, this flank substantially rebuilt in the 1990s, was empty. Normally it'd be impossible to move for the swirling miasma of humanity here on the recommendation of Tripadvisor, and actually three people did jog past, but it wasn't hard to wait until they were out of sight and take a photo with no human intervention whatsoever.
James Street, leading up from the Apple Store, once the world's largest, to the tube station, notoriously close to Leicester Square, was empty. Normally you'd expect to have to manoeuvre round a succession of men with metallic faces pretending to be levitating and occasionally winking at small baffled children, but they weren't eligible for furlough and hopefully the pandemic has bankrupted them for good.
Floral Street, the narrow thoroughfare formerly known as Hart Street, the one with the twisted skybridge representing the fluid grace of dance, was empty. Normally it'd be the shopping destination of choice for fashionistas hunting out Paul Smith and Ted Baker, not to mention anyone seeking the back of what used to be Stanfords, but everything was shut and not a soul was present and this felt wrong on many levels.
The cobbles outside the London Transport Museum, formerly in Brentford, previously in Clapham, were not empty because a trio of blokes in Covent Garden branded hi-vis were lugging decorated carts into place to create a floral barrier to enhance social distancing, should any people turn up later in the day, which presumably they did because otherwise there wouldn't have been any point.
I did eventually find actual people at Seven Dials, the seven-branched road junction, sitting at the foot of a column bearing six sundials. They'd found a coffee shop which was open and needed somewhere to sit to sip their morning beverage, so presumably lived nearby because some people do, but not nearly enough to support the West End economy. Pray that other Londoners and ultimately international tourists eventually come back because otherwise Covent Garden is doomed to remain photogenically empty.
