I took a little stroll around my old hood in East London today. I used to live down a Jack The Ripper famed alley called Artillery Passage. The house was spooky (I thought I saw a ghost there, seriously), and it had an amazing roof terrace where we used to have the best parties. They used to bring ghost tours down our street, and we'd open the window and say, 'OooOOOooOOOOooo!'
There are lots of plague pits in the area. And my old house had an intriguing name, Ringrose House, like the old nursery rhyme Ring a Ring o' Roses, that children used to sing to ward off the plague.
How's this for a crazy street name? The street used to house ironmongers, whose emblem was the frying pan, which they hung outside their shops.
It has also historically been the area that immigrants move to. Including my own Jewish family, a hundred years ago.
The area is a stone's throw from the City but there are still dilapidated run-down buildings, with the towers of the City shining behind them.
Let's be thankful that we don't have to work in the washhouses anymore, ladies.
When I lived in this area Exchange Square was under construction. At the weekend I used go and sunbathe in the deserted square, which is laid in marble with a huge running water feature. I had it all to myself. That big arch is Liverpool Street station; you can watch the trains coming in and out.
This building houses the kind of loft I wish I'd bought years ago, when this area was still pretty undeveloped. I was just too focused on partying.