eveningâs visit to this most famous courthouse. Twenty or thirty of us all met up at St Paulâs tube station. When we arrived at a side door of the Bailey, we were greeted by a man who looked and dressed like a judge. He did these tours because he took great pleasure in showing visitors around. We were taken straight to the number one court and divided into groups.
Some were put in the jury box, others were installed in the witness box and the rest were sent to the public gallery. But one lady and I were ordered into the dock and told to be quiet. Apparently, we were the Accused.
The scene was set. A little mock trial took place in order to give us a feeling of how the courts work. What an experience, none of the public are usually allowed in this dock. It felt like the real thing. âMy female friend and I know that we are innocent, Mâlud.â
It was here that the infamous were tried for horrendous crimes, such as the Yorkshire Ripper, Lord Ha Ha, The Kray twins, Dr Crippen, Dr Harold Shipman, and far too many other criminals to be included in these short chapters. To think I have stood in the exact spot where those scoundrels stood makes me shudder.
I remember in the old black and white crime movies the judge would wear the black piece of cloth on his head, sentence the villain to death and then say, âTake him downâ. I now know what he meant. I was able to look down the dingy, dimly lit stairs that he was referring to, a white tiled stairway leading to thetemporary holding cells where the accused was held. Later they took us all down for a little tour of this grim and foreboding place.
When the tour was over, most of us went to the pub across the road. Itâs the one that I mentioned earlier, The Viaduct Tavern, which has access to what is left of Newgate Prison. What a great night! Only the chosen few can experience entry to the number one dock of the Old Bailey, unless you commit murder most foul.
*Â Â *Â Â *
Quite a few years ago I was driving four foreign people to Lincolnâs Inn Fields in London. As we were very near to Portugal Street I thought they might like to see the Old Curiosity Shop that was immortalised by Charles Dickens in his novel of the same name. This sixteenth-century shop looks so old that one would think that it was just about to fall down. It survived the Great Fire and the German bombings. A friend of mine whose father owned the shop once took me into it and let me have a look upstairs. Whilst inside, I was mentally transported back to the Dickensian era. Talk about ramshackle. It had old crooked wooden beams with lath and horsehair plaster. I could see that it was really authentic but my passengers were not the slightest bit interested in this old shop. To tell you the truth I donât even think they had even heard of Charles Dickens. Again no tip â but that never did worry me.
Charles John Huffam Dickens (1812â1870) had a house nearby, 48 Doughty Street, which is now a museum. It should be number one on every touristâs list. If you put your mind to it you can feel the presence of this great writer as you enter the museum. This was the place where he wrote Nicholas Nickleby and Oliver Twist , in around 1838. You can almost hear the word âmoreâ echoing around the old living room.
Dickens was a great reformer in his day. Two of his daughters were born in that house, and his sister died in the same building.In total, he fathered ten children, so he canât always have been writing! He wrote David Copperfield at another house in Broadstairs, Kent, which was turned into a really good Dickens museum but is now in private ownership.
When Dickens was twelve, his father was imprisoned in the notorious Marshalsea debtorsâ prison in Southwark. He was totally insolvent. The family were left without cash and the young Charles had to take a job working at a boot blacking factory.
I believe some relatives are still around to
Some were put in the jury box, others were installed in the witness box and the rest were sent to the public gallery. But one lady and I were ordered into the dock and told to be quiet. Apparently, we were the Accused.
The scene was set. A little mock trial took place in order to give us a feeling of how the courts work. What an experience, none of the public are usually allowed in this dock. It felt like the real thing. âMy female friend and I know that we are innocent, Mâlud.â
It was here that the infamous were tried for horrendous crimes, such as the Yorkshire Ripper, Lord Ha Ha, The Kray twins, Dr Crippen, Dr Harold Shipman, and far too many other criminals to be included in these short chapters. To think I have stood in the exact spot where those scoundrels stood makes me shudder.
I remember in the old black and white crime movies the judge would wear the black piece of cloth on his head, sentence the villain to death and then say, âTake him downâ. I now know what he meant. I was able to look down the dingy, dimly lit stairs that he was referring to, a white tiled stairway leading to thetemporary holding cells where the accused was held. Later they took us all down for a little tour of this grim and foreboding place.
When the tour was over, most of us went to the pub across the road. Itâs the one that I mentioned earlier, The Viaduct Tavern, which has access to what is left of Newgate Prison. What a great night! Only the chosen few can experience entry to the number one dock of the Old Bailey, unless you commit murder most foul.
*Â Â *Â Â *
Quite a few years ago I was driving four foreign people to Lincolnâs Inn Fields in London. As we were very near to Portugal Street I thought they might like to see the Old Curiosity Shop that was immortalised by Charles Dickens in his novel of the same name. This sixteenth-century shop looks so old that one would think that it was just about to fall down. It survived the Great Fire and the German bombings. A friend of mine whose father owned the shop once took me into it and let me have a look upstairs. Whilst inside, I was mentally transported back to the Dickensian era. Talk about ramshackle. It had old crooked wooden beams with lath and horsehair plaster. I could see that it was really authentic but my passengers were not the slightest bit interested in this old shop. To tell you the truth I donât even think they had even heard of Charles Dickens. Again no tip â but that never did worry me.
Charles John Huffam Dickens (1812â1870) had a house nearby, 48 Doughty Street, which is now a museum. It should be number one on every touristâs list. If you put your mind to it you can feel the presence of this great writer as you enter the museum. This was the place where he wrote Nicholas Nickleby and Oliver Twist , in around 1838. You can almost hear the word âmoreâ echoing around the old living room.
Dickens was a great reformer in his day. Two of his daughters were born in that house, and his sister died in the same building.In total, he fathered ten children, so he canât always have been writing! He wrote David Copperfield at another house in Broadstairs, Kent, which was turned into a really good Dickens museum but is now in private ownership.
When Dickens was twelve, his father was imprisoned in the notorious Marshalsea debtorsâ prison in Southwark. He was totally insolvent. The family were left without cash and the young Charles had to take a job working at a boot blacking factory.
I believe some relatives are still around to
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