The night three other girls and I moved into a house in East London, we got the first of many male callers, sometimes drunk, sometimes in groups, knocking on our door in search of sex. A neighbor told us that a brothel operated here before our landlady took over. The landlady knew about this — it was she who evicted the operators — but never told us. Our late-night callers are not intimidating and often seem embarrassed once we tell them the previous occupants have gone. But shouldn’t our landlady have warned us?
KATE B., LONDON
…
Or as Dr. Johnson nearly put it: When a woman is tired of London, she is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford, including brothel-crawlers with reassuringly good manners.
Leave a Reply