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Jul. 19th, 2023

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 London rises and falls, rises and falls- and Londoners, prior to the advent of John Betjeman, were fairly unsentimental about its mere fabric. Our brother-in-law- who knows London backwards, forwards and sideways- took us for a brief wander round Southwark yesterday afternoon. He showed us the place where part of the footprint of Shakespeare's Globe Theatre is marked out in the cobbles and into the courtyard of The George Inn which is the only survivor of the many many coaching inns that once lined Borough High Street. Next door stood The Tabard, where Chaucer's pilgrims assembled and Mr Pickwick met Sam Weller; it was demolished in the 1870s.





It's not a bad thing that the old Marshalsea prison is gone. It was a vile institution. The only reason for wanting to see it as it was is because it's a prime location in Dicken's Little Dorrit. All that's left is the wall that once divided it from the churchyard of St George the Martyr.  St George, in which Amy Dorrit and Maggy took shelter when they found themselves locked out of the prison, is about the only building in the immediate area that Dickens would still recognise. I wanted to see the east window with its image of Amy Dorrit kneeling but the church was locked.



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