How many quarters can there be?!

Call me a pedant*, but a quarter = one fourth of the whole, such that each part is the same size as the other three, as per on a clock where a quarter of the hour is 15 minutes. 

Yet in London we have many quarters, more than four, and they are all different sizes and shapes. This is likely an attempt to sound all cosmopolitan, inspired by Paris where each of the arrondissements is sub-divided into four 'quartiers' (where you can likely buy a Cartier watch). Or, perhaps we are emulating the French Quarter in New Orleans or the one in Newcastle Upon Tyne.

Here in London we have Regents Quarter, a little enclave of historical buildings at the southern end of York Way near KX station, not to be confused with Kings Cross Quarter which is a block of 119 luxury homes on nearby Pentonville Rd. Then there's The International Quarter, a mixed use development in Newham near the Olympic park, Soho's Photography Quarter in and around Ramillies Street, the Chelsea Heritage Quarter and the prospect of Camden Film Quarter in Kentish Town. 

Most of the other London quarters are BIDs (Business Improvement Districts) such as The Knowledge Quarter in the Kings Cross/StPancras area) and The Fleet Street Quarter shown below, adding a bit of Christmas twinkle to Chancery Lane

On the subject of banners and marketing, a couple of years ago I noticed banners like this one along the Embankment near Somerset House. At first glance they appear to be advertising a men's clothing range available at London Heathrow, but on closer inspection it they are promoting LHQ which turns out to be London's Heritage Quarter, a quarter which I have recently discovered stretches all the way along Victoria station. 

The LHQ site tells us that this zone covers 'the most precious part of London, steeped in history and overflowing with galleries, theatres, restaurants and bars... nestled between The Royal Parks, Buckingham Palace, Somerset House and the Thames...' Ah, so that's what the rest of us call Central London or The West End. It's hardly 'nestled'?!

To confuse matters further, this LHQ has four subsections called 'London Heritage Quarter Districts' – the mini-quarter districts being Victoria (look at the shape of it!), Victoria Westminster, Whitehall and Northbank. Snappy names eh? 

Oh Northbank. You might recall that name being sploshed around the area between Covent Garden and the river about ten years ago as some kind of alternative to the Southbank. Yet the logo, especially on the Christmas banners across the Strand, looked like an US investment company.

Picture: Matt Brown 

I'd love to have been present for the meetings when they decided on this guff and, subsequently, how they come up with the naff ways of promoting these silly ideas. After ll, those LHQ banners tell us nothing at all. Perhaps it's indeed the same people who came up with the idea of Midtown, a re-branding of Holborn. Bonkers.

A tally... That's nine quarters that spring to my mind right now. I've just realised they are all north of the river. Surely there must be some in Southwark, Lambeth and Wandsworth that I'm not aware of – do  me know.

Ooh, here's a thought – another word for quarter is trimestre/trimester, a word that sounds like it has three parts as per triangle, but actually means a three-month period, hence a quarter of the year. Oh grunt. I've opened another can of worms. I don't know where I am going with this. I'll stop. I'm all quartered out. I am going to my quarters for a snooze. 

*Jane, you're a pedant.

Think of England – 1940's porno promo at The Greenwich Picture House

Last week a friend and I were given some tickets to see Think of England at The Greenwich Picture House. The movie is about an incentive, said to have been OK'd by Winston Churchill, using sex as a survival carrot to bolster our boys fighting abroad, giving them the notion that when they get back to Blighty their wives will give them a special welcome home.  

Inside the picture house we struggled to work out where we were supposed to be going – should we head upstairs?  Five screens yet no directionals. No information board showing what film was on where.  Other people were also experiencing the same problem and we kept passing each other in the foyer and on the stairs to work out where our films were. There was a lack of staff. Just one girl behind a counter serving drinks etc. 

I spotted another young female member of staff and asked where Think of England was showing. She said downstairs. Really? I asked why there was no board showing that and she said there was. Hmm. No there wasn't. It seems she was referring to a basic parrot stand that I had already seen at the top of the stairs that led to a downstairs screen. But I'd been there ten minutes by now and no one seemed to be using the stairs even though the movie was due to start in five minutes. She told me that the screen number was on my ticket. Nope. My ticket did not show the screen number, it merely said the name of the movie, yet that sign at the top of the stairs did not show the movie's name so how were we supposed to understand that we should go down there? She responded that all the Greenwich Film Festival screenings were shown down there. I said I had no idea that this was part of a film festival. Her attitude was appalling, her responses imparted it a bland dismissive way as we, the customers, were somehow in the wrong. 

So we went down the stairs though some heavy doors that were hard to open and into the auditorium. No one checked our tickets.  There was hardly anyone down there, which was rather strange seeing as there were now only minutes to go. We chose some seats and the movie started. 

The first 40 mins was painful because people around us kept laughing in that OTT 'I get the joke' fashion, except they totally didn't get it at all. There was no joke. At one point, we had just seen that a character was traumatised yet these idiots laughed at the next scene when he is struggling to perform. Oh ha ha ha. I wondered if the movie had been advertised as a black comedy because people often misunderstand what that means. I think we should start using a different term excluding the word comedy. I was quite glad when something truly awful was depicted and they didn't laugh any more.

Also, it was hard to concentrate on the movie when movie people kept coming in and out, crash bang wallop fashion due to those bloody doors. They might have been going to the toilet but I think this was staff. It was really distracting. 

The movie ended. No announcements were made. We were the last people to make our way out and, just as we were about to exit to the street, a staff member said that there was a Q&A and indicated the coffee bar room to the side. Er, but the room was clearly empty. My friend decided at this point to leave but, intrigued, I stayed to find out more. The Q&A consisted of that staff member (I don't remember him introducing himself) talking to Ollie 'the Olive Boy' Maddigan*, one of the actors in the movie. The small audience of thirteen people was, apart from me and perhaps three others, clearly made up mostly of Ollie's friends and family and this explained all the OTT misplaced whoops and guffaws during the screening and the sycophantic questions and observations. Ollie you were amaaazing. Ollie you were so funny. Oh gawd. I snuck out before the Q&A finished. 

So what did I think of the movie?

It's an interesting and thought-provoking subject that I find really interesting, but is it really movie-worthy? What have they actually achieved here? Visually, I found the production and style to be inconsistent. Some scenes are wonderfully filmic, especially those shot outdoors, but the indoor scenes come across as rather amateurish reminding me of Play For Today. There are also some flashbacks and intercut scenes that confused us more than clarified the the narrative. The acting also ranges from brilliantly real to am-dram. It seems to me that the story would have been better told as a 2-part TV drama, episode one telling us more about the rationale behind this initiative with some background about the people involved etc, followed by part two showing the making of the three movies (the same story was shot for our land, air and sea forces) which could have been interspersed with relevant flashbacks which we'd then understand. 

As regards the organisation of GPH's screening, whenever I have been to screenings before there is usually short introduction before the movie, often by the director or producer or whoever has organised it, explaining what we are about to see and highlighting that there will be a Q&A afterwards. This didn't happen.
Having post-event checked the GPH's website it was advertised it as a
'Special feature film screening of the award-winning drama... will include and intro and a Q&A with the cast and crew.'
Instead, there was no intro, just one member of the cast (nice fell tho he was) and no crew. 

I'm gonna give three stars for the actual movie Think of England ***
But I won't be rushing back to the Greenwich Picture House any time soon. 

*a thought – surely Ollie should be cast one day to play Stephen Mangan's son?!

Ancient Lights – the right to daylight

You've probably spotted some strange signs here and which read ANCIENT LIGHTS such as this one in Newman Passage:

I am befuddled as to why the two words are rendered in different letterform – 

ANCIENT (SANS) / LIGHTS (SERIF)

But, what do signs like this signify? A friend suggested that perhaps this was an advertisement for old shop where oil lamps or candles could be purchased. I explained, no, signs like this signify that the owner of the building is aware of a 'right to light' law which prevent the construction of tall buildings adjacent to their property that would effectively block out any available daylight. The word 'ancient' alludes to it being an old law.

You might well have spotted another good example in the Fitzrovia zone behind Goodge Street Station in Whitfield Street:

There is a trio of Ancient Lights signs on the north facing walls of Albermarle Way, Clerkenwell, best viewed from the garden at St John's church. I was lucky to get up close to the signs during Clerkenwell Design Week in 2025:

In Westminster there's a lovely example in Rochester Street (screen shot from Google Maps):

There's also another one in Brydges Place, that little alley that is often mis-appropriated as being the narrowest passageway (well, if you measure the very top section, I suppose!). The sign here is hard to spot, let alone adhere to, being as it crowded by pipes and whatnot. You can just make it out above and between the lantern and air con unit in this Google Maps snap:

Check it out next time you are enjoying a beer at The Harp. 

Easier to photograph is the one in Soho's Chinatown at the back of the Blue Posts pub in Rupert Court:

The six locations above have often been written about by other Londonphiles but I have spotted some other examples in less obvious places and, having googled (other search engines are available), I can see that they are rarely mentioned, if at all...

First, to Priory Walk near The Boltons in Chelsea, near to that Royal Mail postbox that is being smothered by a plane tree at the junction with Drayton Gardens.

What's so strange about this particular sign is that it is at shoulder height. I only spotted it four years ago, which is ridiculous seeing as I have been walking along this street for decades and simply hadn't noticed it. Therefore, the notice isn't being noticed. I was finally made aware of it whilst leading my Agatha Christie walking tour (she lived round the corner) – an attendee asked me what Ancient Lights meant and I assumed that he was alluding to a sign that I did know about on the other side of the road high up on the back of a house:

Duh!  As we often say, these things are all hiding in plain view! These signs hark back either to the 1870s when Chelsea was quickly evolving at that time from farmland into wealthy residential streets or during the 1930s when flatted developments were popping up bigger and taller than ever before. I wrote about these signs and other observations in this area back in 2024.

Staying in the LBK&C, I discovered anotherAncient Lights sign last year whilst leading the same guided walk. It starts near Notting Hill Gate and we were for a brief time stood here at the corner of Kensington Place as I talked to the group about how the corner of Kensington Church Street is being renovated. The building on the opposite corner to Savills had been demolished and this gave a clear view to Newcomen Street where I happened to notice another Ancient Lights sign on the side of the old Baptist church:

From outside to inside... the next sign can be found within the Royal Society of Arts, John Adam Street, WC2, on what was once the rear north-facing wall of a building that has since become an internal wall that surrounds a staircase:

I also spotted this next one from from the top deck of a 263 bus heading south along Finchley Road:

 

The following screenshot from Google Maps shows there are actually two signs on the side of that building which is one of a pair of gatehouses at the entrance to St Pancras Cemetery: 

My final share is of a sign I spotted back in November 2010 during a tour of The Mandarin Oriental Hotel, Hyde Park:

There are two fire escapes like this on each side of the building but I'm pretty sure that my photo shows the east-facing wall as shown here on Google Maps. It's likely that I snapped the pic from the outdoor terrace on that side. I will have another look next time I am in the vicinity to see if this stencilled sign is still visible/there at all. 

Actually, that's a thought... it's interesting that these signs have remained when everything changes around them to the point that their meaning becomes redundant, especially so in the case of the ICA stairwell where the metal landing almost obliterates the old sign. It suggests to me that these old signs have legal requirements and need to remain in situ. 

If you have any further info or can point me to any other Ancient Lights signs, please do let me know. 

New exit at Kings Cross station – watch this space!

Yesterday I made use of the new exit from Kings Cross underground station that runs underneath Euston Road and pops up within the monstrosity they have seen fit to name Belgrove House after destroying the original Belgrove House.

If you recall, this pedestrian underpass used to be a simple, straight tunnel accessible via a set of steps within the pavement which was open to the elements until approx 2005 when it was covered with an ugly grey block. The new exit/entrance we have today has been moved away from the pavement. It is capacious, bright and shiny.

However, I see 90 degree corners and fiddly spaces that circular cleaning discs will not reach. I can't help but wonder how quickly this will get filthy as per the Elizabeth Line, Holborn and Oxford Circus and other places I have written about. This reminds me that last month I posted on my Janeslondon Instagram about this very issue at Canada Water – see here.

Curved outer corners but 90 degree inner corners (duh!) and little gaps twixt posts and rises on the stairs that will surely need specialised tools:

 

Note the first ball of fluff on the floor at the right side

That pillar already looks grubby to me. Which makes me wonder if they create everything grey in the first instance hoping that the dirt won't be so obvious going forward. 

As I say in the title – watch this space. 

By the way, whilst I am on the subject of TfL’s poorly-designed stations... I am surprised that I have never written about Shepherd’s Bush station and the horrid modern block they installed to replace the gorgeous old entrance that used to boast a tiled tobacconist and a fabulous florist. Had TfL replaced that loveliness with something useful I’d have been OK with it, but no, it’s just an unused void.

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Book review – Seething Lane by Jack Jewers

I have just finished reading Seething Lane by Jack Jewers, a novel in which Samuel Pepys is reinvented as a sleuth, swashbuckler and firefighter, acting on behalf of Charles II to investigate the murder of a libertine aristocrat. 

First of all, thanks to the lovely people at Moonflower for sharing this pre-sale copy with me but, having read every single word, I can safely confirm that this is not my genre. I prefer my fact and fiction to be strictly delineated, unless the resulting faction is historically correct. Jewers' characters here are a mix of real people interspersed with fabricated, mostly theatrical players. It's Pepys as TV sleuth with Nell Gwyn as his bawdy Cockney 'I ain't heard nothing' sidekick. 

I'm not seething, just disappointed. I struggled. I kept stopping within the narrative to double-check things that I was convinced couldn't be historically possible. I kept questioning why he/she might have known him/her, why person X would have done something when the history books I'd previously consulted told us something different. 

Also, the story is told in the first person by Samuel Pepys* so I'd rather expected it to be written in the same style of the time as per his real diaries. Instead, we hear characters talking very much as people speak today yet occasionally throwing in random words like perorating, betimes or cods, making it inconsistent. I found the whole thing frustrating and, taking on board that it's said to be "a page-turning crime thriller' (the FT) I kept going, hoping to reach a 'ping' moment when I'd feel that it had been worth the effort. That moment never arrived.

At the end of the book Jewers gives us explanation for his historical mash-up within a 19-page chapter called Historical Notes. Much of this would have been more useful had it been told to us before we started reading the story, perhaps as an introduction, near the character list at the front of the book. Jewers tells us that he felt that some important facts could be left out and other facts could be twisted, adapted or totally omitted to better fit his narrative. This explanation section which includes real information about Pepys and the time he lived is actually the best-written part of the book because Jewers' as historian is much easier to follow than his story-telling and clunky invented conversations. 

Would I recommend this book? Well, it depends how wobbly you like the line between fact and fiction to be. Basically, if you know anything about this period of history, this yarn is not for you. However, if you are a fan of historical whodunnits and all you know about Samuel Pepys is that he wrote a diary and buried a cheese during the Great Fire of London, then you'll love it. 

Oh, and one more thing, it's a chunky book. At over 450 pages, it is unlikely to fit in your handbag or your coat pocket. You'll need a rucksack or a comfy sofa.  

Seething Lane will be available from all good bookstores from 3rd September 2026.

*How do we know that his name was pronounced Peeps? How has this been handed down to us? Why make a single E sound more like two, and then lose the sound of the Y completely?! Why not Peppis? This makes more sense to me. I am not aware of anyone else with the Pepys name, but I do know a family called Pepper, which I wonder comes from the same root. 

A Mayfair manhole cover containing remnants of wood paving

I found another one! I'd just exited Marble Arch station on Park Lane east side and as I crossed North Row I noticed that the man hole within the tarmac still retains some wood block paving within three of its segments.

View looking back towards Marble Arch

Heading eastwards, the first road to the right along North Row is Dunhaven St (previously Norfolk St) which, back in the days of horse-drawn carriages, would surely have been lined in stables that backed onto the expensive houses that faced Hyde Park. The wood blocks would have kept clippity-cloppity street noise to a minimum. 

Two minutes' walk away along Park Lane, there's another unusual example.

You'll find many more of my sightings in the A-Z list here – please let me know if you spot any others. 

Guinness Time again. But this time it's an Intellectual Property issue

I have written before on here about Guinness advertising across London. One of the signs I've photographed most often is the broken Millennium clock on the corner of the Archway Tavern, London N19, announcing GUINNESS TIME with a repair man balancing on the heads of an ostrich and a sea lion. Here's wider view from Google streetview in 2008, which is the same year I took the following photo:

This cropped (and squashed) version was until recently available on my Jane's London Etsy site as a greeting card and in various print formats. It has been available on there for ten years*. However, last week I received an email notification informing me that the listing has been removed for Intellectual Property reasons after Etsy were alerted by 'VP of Enforcement' via DiageoGB/corsearch.com. Etsy's response to this is to immediately remove the listing without discussion. Oh great. Thanks. 

Here's one of the montages from my listing showing the formats available with my accompanying description for that listing in italics underneath:

My photo of the Guinness promotional clock on the corner of the Archway Tavern public house on Navigator Square, N19, taken in May 2008 when the sign was still complete. Sadly, today it's in a sorry state as many of the letters have fallen off. Let's hope the new owners fix it.

It's rather ironic that the sign depicts a repair man because, during the subsequent years, it started to literally fall apart. There is hardly anything left of it now. 

Back in April 2017 it looked like this with almost half the letters already missing and others hanging on for dear life:

The Archway Tavern, 8th April 2017 ©JaneAmeliaParker/Janeslondon

In September of that year, I was talking about it to a lady I know who works at a shop near the Archway Tavern. She told me that she had rescued one of the fallen letters having found it on the pavement. At that time the pub was completely closed and in a state of flux. We discussed how surely it was possible for someone with a tall ladder or access to a cherry picker to repair the sign and replace or reinstate the missing parts. Getting the mechanism to work would be a bonus. Keen to get it fixed, I wrote a blog post – Save the Guinness Sign and sent a link to that within an email to Guinness' brand management at Diageo.com. 

I was pleased to get a fairly swift response from Josh Spooner who said that they were glad I had brought it to their attention and they'd look into it, but he said they didn't have the budget to repair it. He asked if I knew who might undertake the repair work (er, if I knew that I wouldn't be having this email exchange, duh!). 

The matter was then passed on to someone called Francesca Hillman at freuds.com (who? more info about this company is needed). She followed up with this email on 28th Sept 2017, saying that the sign is the responsibility of the landlord:

Eh? From this we glean that Guinness are more than happy with the free advertising but they don't want to have anything to do with the upkeep of their own installation. I am befuddled as to why their brand people are now getting their knickers in a twist about a sign they have shown no interest in for decades. 

It's worth pointing out that my cards and prints were available on Etsy during this email exchange yet Diageo and Freuds didn't flag up any infringement back then. 

I let the matter drop and hoped that when the pub finally reopened that the new owner would repair the  sign. But no, the sign continued to fall apart as is shown here:

The Archway Tavern, open again, 15 July 2022 ©JaneAmeliaParker/Janeslondon

I've just wandered up there to take some pics of how it looks today:

The Archway Tavern, 26 August 2026 ©JaneAmeliaParker/Janeslondon

As you can see only one letter now remains – the I from GUINNESS at the very top. 

It's evident that nobody cares but me. I'm going down the garden to eat worms.

Re the removal of my Etsy listing, there is no facility for me to make a counter claim or provide any explanation or back story. Etsy have simply acted in this way because a corporate giant has roared. Ooh scary!  I wonder if the Archway Tavern has been told to remove what's left of the sign for the same reasons?! I doubt it.

The removal notice included the name and email the person at Corsearch/Diageo so I wrote to him including a condensed version of the sign's history. I also made a point that the internet is awash with fake Guinness products and perhaps they ought to go after those plagiarists rather than pick on someone who truly cares about their historic advertising, signage that Guinness themselves admit is not their property or responsibility! If I get a response I will add it here.

The Archway Tavern, 26 August 2026 ©JaneAmeliaParker/Janeslondon

This is not the first time I have trodden on toes re Intellectual Property – in October 2018 had another image removed from my Etsy site because it was said to infringe London Transport's rules. The joke is that this was also an image of part of the Archway Tavern – one of the tiled doorway thresholds that depicts a toucan and a pint of the black stuff on a roundel – yet, in all these years, Guinness don't seem to have been bothered by that one. 

Actually, whilst I'm on the subject of IP... on the flip side, I have myself reported some sellers on Etsy for blatantly copying my clay pipe jewellery. Some of these 'designers' even had the cheek to also copy and paste my written descriptions.  I messaged these people directly and asked where they got their inspiration from. Most didn't have the nouse to realise who I was. One woman told me she'd come up with her ideas quite recently yet she couldn't explain why her necklaces were almost direct copies of mine, even down to the way they were photographed. Worth noting that she had nothing similar or original for sale. Many of the other copyists didn't have the nouse to work out who I was until I included a link to my own work. 

My complaints about this to Etsy fell on deaf ears. They as good as ignored me and did not remove those sellers or their products. I do not have the weight of a corporate giant. 

These people continue to trade on their site. Add to this that most of those sellers are also contravening the PLA's strict rules about mudlarking, specifically making money form items made from Thames foreshore finds – you need a special Creative Permit to do this, and I have one.

*I've not sold many of this image, except to Archway local residents. Please get in touch with me direct via jane@janeslondon.com if you are interested.  

1979, the International Year of the Child

There's always something new to discover in London, even if it takes over 45 years to find it...

I'm sure that I have mentioned before that I am one of the small team of volunteer guides who leads tours in The Royal Parks, specifically in Kensington Gardens and St James's Park. See more here. We report to staff within the Learning Centre building in Hyde Park, AKA The Lookout. I'm mentioning this because had I not been helping out as a steward* for a small 5km run last week I would still be none the wiser about what I am about to share with you.

As I left the Learning Centre, hi-vis in hand, I glanced sideways at the toilet block and pondered that I'd never had cause to use these facilities. This is probably why, until this particular day, I had never noticed the free-standing sculpture that faces the building. With time to spare before the runners set off, I went to take a closer look. 

Well, blow me down, the artwork is marvellous. 

I looked closer and saw that it is festooned with toys and some well-worn buttons. Turns out it's a drinking fountain. 

I pressed one of the buttons and strong jet of water jetted across my left shoulder. I repositioned myself and tried again but didn't manage to catch anything in my mouth. I tried another button which produced the same strong squirt effect but only managed to splash my face – but, oh, what fun!

I assumed it was a fairly new installation. But no. Who made this, when, and why? I could see no information panel on the plinth or at the base. I made a few circumnavigations to investigate the details and the other buttons and found some crudely-carved lettering around the bottom edges that show this artwork commemorates a huge event that happened here in 1979. It was hard to see very well so I took lots of snaps to be able to decipher it later.

"This fountain was made to commemorate the great children's party during the International Year of the Child 1979 when two hundred thousand children came to Hyde Park on two days in June"

Blimey! First I knew about it!  

I did a bit of googlywooglysleuthing and discovered that the event was organised by The United Nations. However, there are a couple of errors in that inscription in the sculpture – the event actually happened in May that year, not June, specifically on the weekend of May 5th & 6th, and other info such as here states that "over 160,000" children attended, which is short of 200K. 

There's a pic of the event on Alamy, but I haven't as yet found any newspaper reports. Surely it must have been covered on Nationwide? Thanks to David at London Inheritance for finding this filmed footage on YouTube. It's likely that similar gatherings happened in other major cities around the world. 

At that time I would have been 16 going on 17 and in the first year of Sixth Form. My Romford school was within OLEA (Outer London Education Authority) so surely this mass gathering must've been known to all schools? May 5th was/is my mate Gill's birthday and she confirms that she had a party at her home that Saturday. None of us who are still in touch from that time can recall hearing about the Hyde Park event at all. Hmm. Perhaps it was only the Inner London schools that got the memo.

Back to the whimsical sculpture. It was created/installed two years after the event in 1981 and I'm delighted to discover that it was designed by Theo Crosby, sculpted by Polly Hope. I've not seen anything similar except, perhaps, The Elfin Oak in Kensington Gardens, but that doesn't have interactive capabilities such as water spouts.  

Imho, Theo Crosby was one of the most important and innovative designer/architects of the 1980s. He was responsible for the revamp of Unilever foyer where his marvellous geometrical Retro-Deco panels and lighting were installed into any area that had, post-WW2, been stripped of its 1930's features. But his efforts were subsequently removed – a sad loss because, these days it appears that much of the innovative eighties is being dismantled, being not old enough yet to be revered. However, fans of alternative architecture clamour to see the MDF creations within Jencks' The Cosmic House, which I have visited (twice) and now realise that I haven't written about or shared my photos, so here's a montage:

That's it. Please get in touch if you have any personal memories of or info about the Hyde Park event, either in the comments or via jane@janeslondon.com

*This basically entailed wearing hi-vis polyester (ugh!) and pointing 'this way' whilst standing aside a post that had an arrow on it. It was actually a very pleasant ways to pass an hour or so because not only were the runners very jolly and thankful as they passed me, park users also came up to me and asked for directions.

All pics: Jane Amelia Parker / Janeslondon