The best thing about London is that, even if you’ve lived there nearly your whole life, if you start off walking down obscure backstreets you are guaranteed to come across strange and interesting stuff you have never seen before. Wandering down tiny streets in Westminster, for instance, I went past this shop supplying chasubles and albs to the clergy, with window displays I found fascinating.
What is an alb, anyway? They’re quite expensive. And being a godless heathen I had no idea communion wine was non-alcoholic. What a swizz.
Then I turned a corner and came on a well-stocked Oxfam bookshop, where I found what I can tell already is going to be an excellent read:
First page: “I have milked a mammoth [what?]… and christened an electric rabbit with a jeroboam of Lanson 1912… I won five pounds from Lord Birkenhead when he bet that Cleopatra was a brunette.”