It’s surprising how many “modern” aspects of life that we take for granted were well-known in John Stow’s time. He tells us that in 1530, Bermondsey Abbey "was valued to dispend by the year four hundred and seventy-four pounds fourteen shillings and fourpence halfpenny"<\/em><\/strong> – proof if ever any were needed that they had accountants in those days.<\/p>\n Take holiday homes too. Many people think that they are a modern phenomenon but that’s far from the case. When our author is talking about the buildings extra muros<\/em>, he says that "wherein are built many fair summer-houses and, as in other places of the suburbs, some of them like Midsummer pageants with towers, turrets and chimney pots, not so much for use of profit as for show and pleasure, betraying the vanity of men’s minds."<\/em><\/strong> <\/p>\n There’s a lengthy account of the plague pits on the edge of the city, and also a very whimsical account of St Giles’ Hospital where "the prisoners conveyed from the City of London to Teybourne, there to be executed … were presented with a great bowl of ale, thereof to drink at their pleasure, as to be their last refreshing in this life."<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n Back in here, I began to sort out the music for the next radio programme, and I was well under way when my cleaner came to fit my anaesthetic patches<\/p>\n When she’d finished, we went downstairs to the new apartment to tidy up and put away a few things, and I took a few more photos that I’ll publish one of these days when I’m feeling like it.<\/p>\n That’s not going to be today though because I’m feeling totally dreadful, the worst that I have felt for years. I crashed out completely earlier this morning while working on the radio programme and while I felt a little better when I awoke, it didn’t last long.<\/p>\n The drive down to Avranches was horrible and by the time I was on my bed, I was finished. I crashed out for an hour and a half and felt even worse when I awoke. In the end, they had to cut short the session because I was not responding.<\/p>\n If ever there was a time when I needed to talk to a doctor, it was today but as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, whenever you want a doctor, they keep well away.<\/p>\n The drive home was painful too and I had to struggle to reach the building’s front door. My cleaner and I went into the new apartment to finish off a few things, and then we had to come back up here. I really couldn’t manage it at all and my poor cleaner had almost to carry me up.<\/p>\n Once I’d caught my breath I gad the rest of last night’s curry and now, even though it’s early, I’m off to bed. I’ve had enough. Here’s hoping that I feel better tomorrow.<\/p>\n But seeing as we have been talking about prisoners … "well, one of us has" – ed<\/em> … three prisoners at Wormwood Scrubs were talking to each other, discussing their sentences.
\n"I only have three years to serve"<\/em><\/strong> said the first.
\n"That’s nothing"<\/em><\/strong> replied the second. "I only have two and a half"<\/em><\/strong>
\n"I only have four days to serve"<\/em><\/strong> replied the third
\n "You lucky so-and-so!"<\/em><\/strong> exclaimed the others. "How did you manage that"<\/em><\/strong>
\n"Well,"<\/em><\/strong> he replied "they are hanging me on Thursday."<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n
