According to my Forgotten English desk calendar, today is Lord Mayor’s Day, which
is a great holiday in [London]. The populace is particularly rowdy, turning into lawless freedom the great liberty it enjoys. At these times it is almost dangerous for an honest man, and more particularly for a foreigner, if at all well dressed to walk in the streets, for he runs a great risk of being insulted by the vulgar populace. He is sure of not only being jeered at, but as likely as not dead dogs and cats will be thrown at him…When the people see a well-dressed person in the streets, especially if he is wearing a braided coat, a plume in his hat, or his hair tied in a bow, he will without doubt be called “French dog” twenty times perhaps before he reaches his destination.
It’s almost a relief, then, that practically nothing happened here today. Mostly just work, and lots of it.