"Almost at the corner of the street was romance in the shape of a very old inn, several hundred years old, The Brockley Jack, a reputed haunt and 'pull up' for highwaymen including the famous Dick Turpin. I remember the place quite well – small rooms with the ceiling so low that even a man of ordinary height couldn't stand upright. Alas, the romance didn't long survive on arrival within the district for the place was condemned and pulled down to make way for a modern building."