Sunday, 11.00 am. The late October rays slowly wipe away the traces of that heavy overnight London rain. The suits and heels of Canary Wharf have been replaced by the carelessness of a handful of curious tourists strolling along the waterfront. Nothing suggests that in less than 24 hours this place will be buzzing with briefcases headed to very important meetings. Only the glossy facades and the frowned face of the guard in the foyer give away the importance of the area. I feel like I am seamlessly fitting in: black-on-black to celebrate all the seriousness, and a couple of blue details in the name of clear skies and calm waters. Who would have thought that I and a financial district can be all matchy-matchy.