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Why I set out to explore London's Hidden City...
... and why you should too.
Ahead of university I spent six months working for an investment bank in the Square mile - this is 30 years ago - and, enthralled at discovering a myriad little corners and secret places that had somehow survived centuries of change, I spent many a lunch hour exploring what was essentially still the geography of a vibrant and successful medieval city.
Years later my impression was that these ancient thoroughfares and byways were being systematically destroyed, or at least modified beyond recognition as the demands of London's financial institutions gained precedence over any sense of the past or its cultural importance.
In fact, I was only partly correct. In setting out, somewhat self-importantly, to document in words and pictures the old City's passing before it was too late and they were wiped off the A-to-Z, I discovered something else. Not just that many of these places had survived but that more enlightened developers were seeking to preserve them, or to incorporate these fragments of history into their new schemes with admirable tact and sensitivity.
Inevitably some have been lost, and many others have changed from those days when I was playing at being a banker. The reality, however, was that each time I turned a corner I found another gem. Among the seemingly numberless secret gardens, winding alleyways, tiny squares and ancient courtyards I found stories of the old city and its characters, many extraordinary and unlikely architectural survivors, and a wealth of evidence to remind one again that the City - built, burned, bombed, rebuilt and rebuilt again - is still a uniquely fascinating, rich and engaging place to wander through.
The old gateways into the bustling medieval settlement may be long gone, the Roman Wall which once ringed it has almost (but not entirely) disappeared beneath offices, warehouses and apartments, and towering new developments continue to be thrown up and torn down with bewildering rapidity.
Yet stepping behind the modern façades, or squeezing through narrow passes between vast glass ziggurats of 21st century commerce in search of a favourite Wren church or just somewhere quiet to sit and think, it is still possible to come upon something ancient or timeless, and to enjoy the precious thrill of discovering somewhere centuries old yet to the beholder all but unknown.
Still possible, that is, to experience something of the London which existed before the Great Fire, before the Blitz, and long before Big Bang and all that followed that more technological but equally seismic change. That's why I wrote the book, and why I hope everyone who loves London will want to read it.