If I search ‘Tower Bridge Road’ in the photos app on my phone, there is an eclectic array of imagery. I have pictures taken at Manze’s, including a couple of my editor looking mournfully down at his first ever plate of pie and mash from the time I chaperoned him there.
Others depict a night out on the glass-floored space at the top of Tower Bridge. There are shots of DJs, dancing and two women in a lift wearing glitter ball helmets as if disco-ready knights of the realm. And then there is a solitary, sad photograph from Bermondsey Arts Club, a subterranean bar hardly mentioned by anyone, ever.
