I went back to work in Soho – and the deserted streets of central London made me gasp

The full impact of a city without its people hit home, writes Jenny Eclair. It was as if a malevolent spell had been cast on the capital

Graffiti paying tribute to health workers in London’s West End during lockdown (AFP/Getty)

I went back to work last week. Proper, outside-the-house work. I was even wearing trousers and shoes and it felt like a very big deal. The job entailed two full days in a recording studio in the middle of Soho, where I was promised deep-cleaned equipment and no physical contact.

It’s actually pretty simple to abide by the new coronavirus safety rules with audio recordings. The performer is already separated from the technician by a glass partition and any instructions are delivered via headphones. But now coffee and lunch breaks were staggered too, so I didn’t accidentally bump into the one other woman recording in the building at the same time, and gloves were supplied for loo breaks.

I felt quite happy about the situation, but my big problem was travel: with a visit planned to see my mother next weekend, I didn’t want to take any chances with cabs or public transport. As as a non-cyclist, and with my car out of action (possibly forever), I begged the old man for a lift there and back. He agreed and I immediately felt like a spoilt teenager going to a party.