Having been to London before, I was looking forward to reacquainting myself with all things quaint and English.

Such as quiet mews and the sound of the Queen’s guard trotting over cobble streets in the early hours of the morning, or pubs bedecked in flowers, or people sunning themselves in Hyde Park on the one day of summer.

Considering King’s Cross Station is built on an area once called Battle Bridge, rumoured site of Boudica’s final battle with the Romans, I just wasn’t expecting to find futuristic architecture. Many believe this ancient queen lies buried somewhere beneath the platforms, and her ghost is rumoured to wander here in the darkness of night. I winder what she makes of the ceiling above her.

St. Dunstan-in-the-East dates back to the Saxons. Built around 1100, the church served the people of St. Dunstan’s Hill (which lies not far from the Tower of London) until it was destroyed by the Great Fire of London in 1666. When the ashes settled and Christopher Wren rebuilt both London and his reputation, he restored the church and added a steeple.

Some 200 years later the combined weight of the impressive roof and steeple had caused the walls to bow by some seven inches. The church was rebuilt in Portland stone, retaining Wren’s arches and spire — and it could now hold a congregation of some 700 worshippers. (I once met the Duchess of Portland, but that is another story.)

The next chapter in the story of the St. Dunstan-in-the-East came in 1941, during the Blitz. From September 1940, the Germans bombed London for over 60 days. On December 29 the Luftwaffe blanketed the city and so created a fire storm, starting what has been called the Second Fire of London. Despite receiving a direct hit, Wren’s tower and steeple survived the impact. Only the north and south walls of the church were as lucky; the rest was destroyed. By the end of the Blitz, over 1,000,000 London buildings had been reduced to rubble. With so much of the city destroyed, St Dunstan’s remained in ruins.

In 1967 the decision was made to turn the still ruined church into a public garden. The buildings around the church have grown but the ruins of the old church remain, offering a sanctuary of peace in the chaos of Central London.

The narrow streets in this part of London are filled with cafes and shops, and lots of traffic. Yet within the grounds of St. Dunstan-in-the-East, all this vanished. I entered past some crumbling walls into a hidden space. Vines grew over forgotten arches and trailed along the stones, and Wren’s steeple soared towards a blue sky.

Despite the windows of nearby windows peering down on us, I felt totally at peace, removed from the rush of the daily grind. Little wonder some people sat on the stones or marble benches, enjoying a coffee or an early lunch.

Walking from Neal Street (near Covent Gardens) leads to Seven Dials, so-called for six sundials radiate around a central seventh. This was once a notorious meeting place for criminals operating out of what was then one of London’s most notorious slums. John Keats wrote how Seven Dials was a place “…where misery clings to misery for a little warmth, and want and disease lie down side-by-side, and groan together.”

The tone of the place has since improved; as I walked through Seven Dials the place was full of sunshine and birdsong (and also cars). Like Neal Street, the little streets are now places for seeking out good food, art, bars and unique fashion.

And from Seven dials, to the heart of London: Kensington Gardens. (I’m never quite sure where Kensington Gardens ends and Hyde Park begins.) At the northern end, the spectacular Italian Gardens were a gift from Prince Albert to Queen Victoria. On a summer’s day in London, the sound of the fountains, along with the coolness they bring to the air, is a delight.

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