I succeeded in answering several research questions but was unable to resolve the biggest one. For the purposes of fiction writing and story telling, it's actually better not to have the answer...as a historian, this apparently insoluble mystery plagues and maddens me. But if the truth can't be found at the Westminster Archives, it probably doesn't exist.
I arrived a bit late for the rendezvous with our friends. After a good catch-up chat, we took a cab to our favourite drinking and dining neighbourhood.
And we began the festivities at this all-too-familiar pub.
After dinner at a divine Lebanese restaurant we frequent, our friends took us to their club in St. James's Square for a nightcap.
This morning, a taxi carried me away from here...
...past the rather fine residence of my neighbour down the street...
...who has an impressive ornament in front of her house.
"Look," says the Chap, "an old Routemaster bus! Only a few of them running nowadays. Take a picture!" So I did.
The National Gallery. Trafalgar Square, I can report, was entirely pigeonless this morning.
The church of St. Martin's in the Field, whose parish records I pored over the previous day.
Leicester Square Underground Station in Charing Cross.
The red brick edifice is my home away from home, the British Library. I'll be spending plenty of time here, you may be sure--but not yet!
St. Pancras Rail Station.
We arrived in good time for our train to Nottingham.
Nottingham adventures coming soon!
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