Once you’re there – at the top – you look carefully around, try to be impressed but don’t succeed and find it hard to remember what was it that made you climb all the way up and stand next to the policeman sitting on his beautiful black horse at the very top of Primrose Hill. Such beautiful black horse, he glows in the noon’s sunlight! Will the policeman mind if you stroke his horse? You look at the policeman, than at the horse, than back at the policeman: “Which way is the closest tube station?” “Well, that’s a very good question, what do you think, Jim?” And while he and his mate try to figure out which way would be best for you to go, you smile at the horse and stroke it. Why were you at the top? It doesn’t matter.