A throng of tourists milled around. It was your unusual untidy ragbag of a group, gaudy jumpers, open-throat shirts and creased clothing beneath a sea of excitable faces, a rainbow of complexions, all agog to peer down. One rather buff looking guy in a snug fitting t-shirt caught my eye and reminded me of Clive James’ description of Arnie Schwarzenegger: that he looked like a condom filled with walnuts.