Morning in London. Under a sky of cerulean blue, Baker Street is awakening. It is early when I climb from the tunnels of the Bakerloo Line, pass beneath the WW2 tiles, clock and Art Deco lettering — Wembly, Harrow, Uxbridge, Amersham — of the concourse archway, and out through the ticket gate with an electronic wrist-flick of my watch. A few commuters are on the go; the pigeons are busy. But it is too early for most people. Even the Knights of the Pavement are still asleep in their newspaper and cardboard castles. I step from the station and out into my first day in England. Continue reading Prologue: Baker Street