ABSTRACT
Every excursion we made together was an immense labour, a strenuous and
fraught journey to the treacherous destination: we waited for buses that never came, were marshalled into queues that never grew shorter, walked down endless streets in the hot sun. Our destinations also were terrible. The Tower of London, Hampton Court and Madame Tussaud’s were theatres of cruelty: here was the exact spot upon which Anne Boleyn was beheaded; this was the gallery along which Catherine Howard ran desperately to beg Henry the Eighth for mercy; here was the Chamber of Horrors with its electric chair.
