when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life
The very first time I heard this song I was staying in an hotel on Baker Street, which runs from North to South right through the heart of London. For a naive North of England boy it was a very strange place. The allyways and byways just off Baker Street are even stranger. (Writing this brought back some very peculiar interpersonal relationship memories of that time.)
Back then 221B Baker Street was part of the offices of the Pearl Life Assurance Company, now it’s kind of a kitsch Sherlock Holmes store.
Please listen thinking about the bright lights, and not the damp Victorian London smog.
Holmes never did catch Springheeled Jack