From the top deck of a bus we marvel at the splendour of Georgian architecture - streets, crescents and squares never damaged by wartime bombing. We will get to know them well from even greater heights, having climbed to the top of an incongruous grassy mountain and the city's gothic black memorial to a literary knight.
Off the bus and into the crowds. All the world's a stage here - accents from everywhere and not just the local burr. The straight mile seems much shorter after we've stopped to spit on a famous spot and been distracted by drummers, dancers and an escapologist. He's wrapped in chains but is oh so cheerful, young and handsome. "Would you like a ticket to my show?" Excited, we enter the park, ready for anything.
WHERE AM I?
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