Ghosts of Rahere, Betjeman – pray for me. The world is too much with us, we cannot just swipe away the pixels and the rot. Christ, I can’t even find a decent coffee at 6am in London. That’s eternity for you. At least in Cloth Fair I forgot quotidian horrors of a lesser cut. But St. Bart’s the Great and your poem, Myfanwy! Liberty lampshade, come shine on us all – whoever follows you won’t walk in darkness. The history of, the intimacy of the place – and easy walking distance to St. Paul’s! Inside the church, a Damien Hirst, no less. Flayed to perfection, better to embrace.