1 Upper St. Martin's Lane – Covent Garden, London, England

Originally part of the ancient bridleway between Charing Cross and the North, Upper St Martin’s Lane has been a feature of London’s maps for longer than anyone can remember. Indeed it is identified on the route of the mourning cavalcade that Edward I took in the 1290s in honour of his cherished Eleanor of Castile.

The name of Upper St Martin’s Lane was only adopted in the 1860s, before then it had been known (rather unfortunately) as Cock Passage. The previous, awkward name came from the Cock & Pye Inn which stood here for many years. As with almost all animals in historic pub names, the cock is a reference to bloodsports. By today’s standards, cockfighting was a barbaric and grotesque spectacle, indeed Lorenzo Magalotti (b. 1637 and widely considered Europe’s first leisure tourist) wrote of his experience at the tavern: "Often when one [of the cocks] appears vanquished and near death, it recovers such wonderful vigour that it jumps on the stronger one and kills it… And then with the little breath remaining to him, flaps his wings and crows his victory, after which, he himself, also abandons himself to death." As well as a spectacle for bloodthirsty patrons, the Cock & Pye ran a haphazard gambling book where astronomical sums of money were wagered on the outcome of the fights.

Around the same time, another fixture of Upper St Martin’s Lane was the Bermudian George Starkey, an eminent "scientist" and the tutor of the young Isaac Newton. Biographers cannot prove that Starkey lived on this street but he was certainly a frequent visitor and his various publications were sold by the street vendors under the pseudonym Eirenæus Philalethes. His goal in life was to discover an, or the, alcahest (a magical elixir which could dissolve gold and thereby cure all human ailments). In the 17th Century, much of "science" was tantamount to pseudo-religious alchemy, a more accurate job description might be Sorcerer. Starkey would invoke sacred relics (so as not to court blasphemy) and potter about with various impure chemicals. Whether or not he was a great scientist is disputable but he was certainly skilled in self-promotion. It is mankind’s greatest woe that Starkey died just as he was on the verge of presenting his alcahest; ironically he was done for by the Great Plague of 1665.

For many years Upper St Martin’s Lane was the destination for those wanting to buy a horse. Aldridge’s Horse Bazaar operated from here throughout the 19th century and offered docile palfreys for women of refinement and robust beasts of burden for brewers. Indeed the only kind of horses not traded here were thoroughbreds. Aldridge’s Bazaar occupied the location which is now the incongruous but towering presence of Orion House. Here buyers and merchants could inspect livestock and, every Wednesday until 1926, auctions were held here while the rest of the street would come to a standstill until business was complete. Before the advent of emergency automobiles, it was traditional for ambulance and fire horses to be grey, so such gallant beasts commanded a healthy premium at Aldridge’s.

In more recent years, Upper St Martin’s Lane has been known for its restaurants. One that some readers may remember is Lennon’s which was opened here in the 1980s by Cynthia Lennon, John’s first wife. The menu featured punning dishes such as ‘Rubber Sole’ and ‘Sergeant Pepper Steak’ but the quality of food was said to be poor and Cynthia’s venture soon failed. More recently still was the IRA bomb which exploded inside the gents’ toilets of the Sussex Arms in October 1992 blowing out the windows. In the aftermath of this lunchtime attack, one man lost his life and four other customers had to be admitted to hospital.

The last word on the history of Upper St Martin’s Lane is a cautionary tale for those who might be tempted to steal little pots of jam or shampoo sachets from hotels. In 1814, Sarah Dale stayed at the Cross Keys Inn on the street and took a fancy to her bedsheet; deciding it to be very much nicer than any she owned, Dale tucked it up into her petticoats and checked out. However, the owner discovered this heinous crime and alerted none other than the Lord Mayor of London, Samuel Birch. The game was up for Sarah and she was brought to the old Bailey where the judge decreed that she be confined to Newgate for a year. The statute by which Dale was imprisoned still exists in law so, next time you are tempted by a dainty souvenir from a hotel stay, maybe think twice.