You may have seen me. That is, if you ever look up into the airy spaces. Few do. Some look straight ahead into the distance, unseeing, sure of their path; some look down, watching out for things not to tread in; others glance sideways at pretty girls as they pass. Just occasionally a flawless morning or an irrepressible carefree mood will set the stroller’s eye a-wandering, and I may be taken in as one of several irritations on an otherwise symmetrical arrangement of planes and curves. Or the gaze may even rest on me for a moment, and the beholder wonder idly – such curiosity evaporates instantly – who I am supposed to be. Next time you pass St Paul’s on the south side, do look up. You will see five statues in various unlikely poses above a phoenix that perpetually does whatever a phoenix is supposed to do. I am the one on the right.
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