Bloomsbury

Chapter two.

They went off to the office together, walking through the Bloomsbury squares, and only once did Lois look round apprehensively for her unwelcome cavalier.

Happily, he was not in sight.

"About that scar on your arm," said Lizzie when they were crossing Theobald's Road, "I know a perfectly posh place in South Moulton Street where they can take away scars.

...

I am retracing the steps of Virginia Woolf this morning, because she too took the big migration from being in Kensington to being in Bloomsbury, and it was a transformative experience for her.

So there's a lot happening here that's very literary.

We're gonna read a bit of Woolf, but most of London today, Sophy, has gone to the Notting Hill Carnival.

But we always jump the other way on SOB, don't we?

Yes.

We took the Piccadilly line eastbound, and here we are at the British Museum just off Russell Square in Bloomsbury.

It's a beautiful day.

So what is there for the rest of the Christmas Theatre menu? For younger children, we've got The Snowman at the Peacock Theatre, running November 21, 2026 through January 3, 2027.

Also for children, The Stickman at the Bloomsbury Theatre runs December 3, 2026 through January 3, 2027.

For our Dickens lovers, The Old Vic's A Christmas Carol runs November 10th, 2026 through January 9th, 2027.

And for ballet, with appropriate panto-inspired double entendre irony, London has two Nutcrackers.

All as clear as mulled wine? Great, then I'm going to proceed.

The areas of London that I looked at for my sample week were Covent Garden for pure Christmas atmosphere, Seven Dials, Leicester Square and the West End, with Trafalgar Square, Soho, Regent Street, Carnaby Street and Somerset House all within walking distance.

Then I looked at Bloomsbury and Tottenham Court Road for central location without Covent Garden prices.

Close enough to walk into Oxford Street, Soho, Fitzrovia, the West End, and Covent Garden, central and northern tube lines, as well as the Elizabeth Line to Heathrow.

The Tournament of Tottenham.

In Southampton Row, Bloomsbury, there is a small alley or passage leading into Queen's Square, and rendered inaccessible to all but foot passengers by some iron posts.

The shops in this passage are of a subdued exterior, and are overshadowed by a dingy old edifice dedicated to St. George the Martyr, which seems to have begun its existence as a rather handsome chapel, and to have improved itself by a sort of evolution into a singularly ugly church.

Into this alley, one Saturday afternoon late in October, came a short, stout young man with sandy hair, and a perpetual grin denoting anticipation rather than enjoyment.

"My nightmare's begun already," he thought.

"Still, she was so surprisingly like, it did give me a turn.

They oughtn't to let such crazy females into public conveyances." Fortunately, his panic had not seized him until he was within a short distance from Bloomsbury, and it did not take him long to reach Queen Square and his shop in the passage.

He let himself in and went up to a little room on an upper floor, which he used as his sitting room.

I mean that almost literally.

We're in Bloomsbury, Southampton Row, where it meets Russell Square.

And the date is September 12th, 1933.

93 years ago today.

So here he is.

A refugee in London.

Walking through Bloomsbury.

On his way to the British Library.

That is why I thought it best to summon this lady to your aid.' We all turned round at the words.

There, framed in the doorway, was a tall and beautiful woman, the mysterious lodger of Bloomsbury.

Slowly she advanced, her face pale and drawn with a frightful apprehension.

Her eyes fixed and staring, her terrified gaze riveted upon the dark figure on the floor.