It's no secret that I love everything to do with eighteenth century history. I spent many happy hours pouring over tiny conduct manuals from the late 1700's in final summer of my masters degree (and many stressed and unhappy hours typing up the notes in deadline week!). I've always loved the tactile nature of history. Going to an estate and sitting under the bower of an oak that's older than the house itself. Complaining loudly that they lock away the books so that vagabonds like me can't touch them. Eating a hot sausage roll in a cafe converted from the servants quarters. Historical houses are my jam.
The other week myself and my chap Joe planned a staycation. We live in London, but like so many Londoners, we rarely get out and experience all this mad city has to offer. Having done most of the 'big' London attractions, we started ticking off things from the 'days out' list I've added to over the years. Last year I heard about Dr. Johnson's House Museum when I visited Benjamin Franklin's House; a beautifully preserved Georgian terrace near Embankment. Imagining myself as a time-travelling socialite, I was keen to visit the home of Samuel Johnson near Fleet Street. After having a blustery walk from Waterloo over the Thames towards the City, we took a little alley behind Cafe Nero and there it was. Quaint, tidy and cobbled. A world away from the busy office workers in their glass fronted towers next door.