Londance: the made-upness of a word

Londance.
Where London sparks romance.
Like on a Saturday night, you're stepping out of the theatre and in to the crisp midnight air. The rain has stopped its monotonous drizzle, leaving a shiny wetness around the Square. There's no need for a coat and I take my beige gloves off, the ones with a tiny leather bow at the wrist. Taxis whizz past, splashing cold drain water on to the sidewalk. Red double decker buses carry a small number of passengers, most of whom look out their windows wearing tired and withdrawn faces.

Trafalga Square is empty. And I stand leaning against the damp stone wall, snatching still pictures of the night sky.