GLEN S PERRY

A smell hits my nostrils...a stench more like. It is the foetid aroma of a funeral parlour.

Seemingly abandoned and weather-worn...could ghosts still linger within the walls of Number One, Oakwood Avenue?

The city had certainly changed since the day's of Wren and Hawksmoor...but 'It was still London', I thought,...'the greatest place on earth!'