Soho's Secret Side

30 minutes of hidden history, curious corners & forgotten stories

London · 16 stops · 2.3 km · ~1.4 h · Generated March 2026

1. 1. The Seven Noses of Soho — Bateman Street

   Bateman Street, Soho, London W1D 3AL

   Attached to the walls of various buildings around the Soho neighbourhood are several plaster casts of human noses. This one on Bateman Street is part of one of London's strangest guerrilla art projects... and you're standing right in front of it.

   The noses were set up by artist Rick Buckley in nineteen ninety-seven, as a protest against the rising use of surveillance cameras across the streets of London — cameras that many people viewed as a huge step closer to a Big Brother society. So what did Buckley do about it? Did he march? Did he write angry letters?

   No. Inspired by the guerrilla activities of the Situationists — a mid-century organization of avant-garde social revolutionaries — he decided to install plaster of Paris and polymer casts of his Own nose at various structures across London... right under the noses of the liberty-threatening Cctv cameras.

   And here's the really clever part. Using glue, Buckley attached as many as Thirty-Five noses to important public buildings across the capital, taking care to match the colour of each nose to the walls. He even hid his glue inside a tube of toothpaste to avoid suspicion. The National Gallery sprouted a nose. So did Tate Britain, Piccadilly Circus, the South Bank Centre, and Saint Pancras Station.

   Most noses were found quickly and taken down, but Buckley didn't publicly claim responsibility until twenty eleven — allowing Fourteen years for the mysterious bumps to generate their own legends.

   And what legends! The most famous myth is that the Seven Noses of Soho would bring great Wealth to anybody who can find all seven. Another legend claimed that London architects used to include casts of their noses on their finished buildings — a lovely idea, but completely invented.

   Now, the Bateman Street nose you're looking at? It's painted the same colour as the wall, so it is extremely easy to miss. It sits just outside a coffee bar, beyond the Dog and Duck pub — which, in a Perfect twist of irony, was the favourite drinking hole of George Orwell himself... the man who Wrote Nineteen Eighty-Four. The man who warned us about Big Brother... drinking pints just metres from a protest Against Big Brother. You couldn't make it up.

   So take a moment. Get a photo with the nose if you like. And as you walk through Soho today, keep your eyes on the walls. There are more noses hiding out there... and according to legend, finding them all could make you fabulously rich.

2. 2. New Evaristo Club (Trisha's)

   57 Greek Street, London W1D 3JL

3. 3. Soho Square — The Mystery Tudor Hut

   Soho Square, London W1D 3QD

   Take a look at that little black-and-white hut sitting right in the middle of the square. Quaint, isn't it? Half-timbered walls, a steep hipped roof... it looks like something straight out of Tudor England. But here's the thing... it's All a disguise.

   This hut, sitting in the middle of Soho Square — a square that dates back to sixteen eighty-one — was actually built in nineteen twenty-five. And it wasn't meant for gardening at all. The Charing Cross Electricity Company needed a private, above-ground entrance to its electricity substation directly beneath the square. Being in such a historic part of London, they needed something that wouldn't clash with its surroundings.

   So what did they do? They modelled it on a Tudorbethan gardener's hut that had actually stood in the centre of the square back in the eighteen seventies! A fake copy... of a real hut... hiding an electrical substation. Only in London.

   Now, that Original hut had its own legend. Rumours surrounded it, including an urban myth that it contained a secret passageway to Buckingham Palace. Almost certainly nonsense — but a wonderful story.

   And the secrets go Deeper. Literally. When World War Two and the horrors of the Blitz began, the space beneath this little hut took on a far more important role — as a temporary bomb shelter. Leslie Hardcastle, president of the Soho Society, recalled that the shelter was lined with about twelve inches of brick and had concrete as a roof, and could take about one hundred fifty to two hundred people. Imagine... huddled underground, right beneath where you're standing now.

   But before any of this was here, the very spot where that hut sits belonged to a king. The square was originally called King's Square, for King Charles the Second, and his statue — carved by Danish sculptor Caius Gabriel Cibber in sixteen eighty-one — was the centrepiece. Look around... you can still see that battered old statue nearby. In eighteen seventy-five, Thomas Blackwell of Crosse and Blackwell — the condiment firm with premises right here on the square — rescued the crumbling statue and gave it to artist Frederick Goodall, who placed it on an island in his lake at Grim's Dyke. Then the property was purchased by none other than W. S. Gilbert — yes, of Gilbert and Sullivan fame. Lady Gilbert's will directed that the statue be returned, and it was finally restored to Soho Square in nineteen thirty-eight.

   So the king came home... but not to his original spot. He was placed a few metres north, because that cute wooden hut had been built on the original site.

   Today? About three-quarters of the shed is filled with spades, wheelbarrows, and other gardening tools. In nineteen ninety-two, this two-story hut was listed as a Grade Two structure — officially protected as a building of special historic interest. A fake Tudor shed, hiding an electricity shaft, that doubled as a bomb shelter... now that's a hidden gem.

4. 4. Denmark Street — London's Tin Pan Alley

   Denmark Street, London WC2H 8NL

   Look at this tiny little street. Just about a hundred yards long... and yet, more music history is packed into Denmark Street than practically anywhere else in London. Welcome to Tin Pan Alley!

   This street was laid out in the late sixteen eighties and named after Prince George of Denmark, who married the future Queen Anne. Remarkably, it's one of the only streets in London to retain its seventeenth century terraces on Both sides. But forget the architecture for a moment... listen to the ghosts.

   It all started when music publisher Lawrence Wright moved here from Leicester in nineteen eleven. Back then, music was essentially a branch of Bookselling... because the only way to hear a popular song at home was to play it yourself from sheet music. Soon, every building on this street was buzzing with pianos, songwriters, and deal-makers. Wright himself launched Melody Maker magazine right here at number nineteen in nineteen twenty-six. And the New Musical Express, the legendary Nme, was founded at number five in nineteen fifty-two.

   Now here's a story most people walk right past. At number twenty, a young man called Reg Dwight... plain old Reg... worked as the office boy for Mills Music, earning five pounds a week in nineteen sixty-five. You know him today as Sir Elton John. And get This... Paul Simon once walked into that Same office with two new songs, The Sound of Silence and Homeward Bound, and Mills turned him Down. Told him they'd never sell. Imagine That decision haunting you.

   Down at number four stood Regent Sound Studio... a tiny, cramped basement room. An engineer named Bill Farley recorded the first Rolling Stones album there in its entirety across just a few days in early sixty-four. That little room conjured records for everyone from Vera Lynn to Black Sabbath, from Jimi Hendrix to The Kinks.

   And then came punk. In nineteen seventy-five, Malcolm Mclaren took a lease on number six and set up a rehearsal space for the Sex Pistols. They lived upstairs in pretty rough conditions... but it was the first place any of them had lived away from their parents. Years later, during a remodel, cartoon graffiti of the band members was uncovered on a hidden wall... the work of one Johnny Rotten.

   And one more thing you won't find in any guidebook. Number nine was home to La Giaconda, a café and hip hangout where David Bowie first met his band The Lower Third. Legend has it this very spot is the birthplace of Ziggy Stardust, partly inspired by fellow café patron Vince Taylor.

   A hundred yards of pavement... and the entire soundtrack of modern Britain was written on it. Take a moment. Look around at those old facades. The music may have gone quiet... but if you listen closely, this street still hums.

5. 5. House of MinaLima

   26 Greek Street, London W1D 5DE

   Take a look at number twenty six Greek Street. It might look like just another pretty Soho townhouse... but step inside, and you'd enter one of the most magical hidden gems in all of London.

   When Mirafora Mina and Eduardo Lima opened their first shop on this very spot in twenty sixteen, the plan was three months — six at the outside. It was an experiment, a "what if?" That experiment lasted Four years and drew over a million visitors!

   So who are these two? Mirafora and Eduardo began their extraordinary partnership in two thousand one, when Warner Brothers invited them to create the entire visual universe of the Harry Potter film series. They designed the Marauder's Map... the Daily Prophet newspapers... wanted posters, Hogwarts proclamations, envelopes addressed to Harry Potter at the Cupboard Under the Stairs. If you saw a piece of paper, a label, a book, or a poster in Any of the eight films... these two created it.

   And here's a detail most people never think about. It is Mirafora's Own handwriting that you see in the films — that famous emerald green ink on every Hogwarts acceptance letter. She channeled the character of Professor Mcgonagall herself each time she picked up the quill. And to this day, Mirafora still offers bespoke replicas of that letter, handwritten by her own hand, with the option to personalize it with Your name. The price? Two thousand four hundred and ninety five pounds. The original designer writes your name on the envelope. That's not merchandise... that's magic.

   Now, there's a wonderful fictional connection too. In the Wizarding World lore, Greek Street was actually the site of a so-called "Muggle-baiting incident" circa nineteen twenty six. The Daily Prophet reportedly ran the headline: "The Greek Street Trial — Is Muggle-Baiting Ever Acceptable?" You can spot this in the Fantastic Beasts films if you freeze-frame the newspapers... newspapers that Minalima themselves designed!

   Among the gallery props, Mira and Eduardo even gave themselves personal Ministry of Magic identification cards, placing themselves in the "Rooms and Symbols" department. When you're the person responsible for the entire visual identity of a magical government... you get to decide which department you work in.

   Their workspace at Leavesden Studios was once called "J.K. Rowling's favourite room on Earth." And the building we're standing beside? Number twenty six was a Greek Street newcomer — before Minalima, it had the rather more tawdry history of a former strip club. From discarded G-strings to Hogwarts acceptance letters... only in Soho.

   The House of Minalima has since moved to one five seven Wardour Street, just a few minutes' walk from here. But this doorstep is where it all began — where a quiet experiment became a permanent piece of London's hidden magic.

6. 6. Maison Bertaux

   28 Greek Street, London W1D 5DQ

   Look at that little blue shopfront across the street. Two storeys of crooked windows, net curtains, and a glass case bursting with éclairs and strawberry tarts. That is Maison Bertaux... the oldest pâtisserie in London, sitting right here at twenty eight Greek Street since eighteen seventy one.

   But this isn't just an old cake shop. This place was born from revolution.

   In eighteen seventy one, Monsieur Bertaux, a Communard fleeing from Paris, arrived with an armful of recipes and opened this tiny patisserie and tea room in Greek Street. The Communards, you see, were radical socialists who had briefly seized control of Paris. When the French army crushed the uprising, thousands were killed or exiled. Bertaux escaped across the Channel... and instead of picking up a rifle again, he picked up a whisk. It was no accident that the shop opened at this location, for it was in the heart of the French community in London in the late nineteenth century.

   And here's a detail most people walk right past. Inside, the pâtisserie contains a piano with a copy of The Art of French Baking on top of it, and three of the mirrors in the shop contain the inscriptions Liberté... that's right, Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité, still etched into the glass. A revolutionary slogan hiding in a cake shop!

   Now, during the Second World War, this building was sandbagged against the Blitz. A photograph from nineteen forty five shows Maison Bertaux boarded with sandbags, while Anna the waitress hid under a domed silver steamer as bombs fell. Customers kept their sugar rations in a cupboard. And they were Never closed.

   The famous faces who've eaten here read like a guest list from another dimension. Famous patrons have reportedly included writers Virginia Woolf and Karl Marx, actors Steve Mcqueen and Nicole Kidman, artist Grayson Perry and musician Bob Geldof. The patisserie also famously made Lily Allen's wedding cake and hosted the late fashion designer Alexander Mcqueen's twenty fifth birthday party.

   And that eccentric little room upstairs? It doubles as an art gallery. Noel Fielding held his first exhibition of paintings, entitled Psychedelic Dreams of the Jelly Fox, in a gallery above the patisserie in December two thousand and seven. They sold like hot cakes, from fifty pound signed posters to the most expensive works at seven thousand pounds.

   Even the distinctive navy blue paint on the shopfront has an extraordinary story. It was Turner Prize winner Howard Hodgkin who instructed them to "Frame the front, the pastries, the life inside in deepest navy blue." And they obeyed.

   The Bertaux family ran the café until it was bought by Monsieur Vignaud in nineteen oh one. The current owner is Michele, and she has worked there ever since she was fourteen, when she started as a Saturday girl. Think about that. One woman's entire life, woven into a single tiny cake shop. Generations of cream, butter, and flour, carried up that narrow staircase to a kitchen so small you could barely turn around.

   If you fancy stepping inside, go ahead. Order an éclair. Sit by that wobbly table upstairs. And know that somewhere in those walls, the spirit of a French revolutionary is smiling... because his little act of defiance has outlasted empires.

7. 7. Coach & Horses Pub

   29 Greek Street, London W1D 5DH

   Take a look at this unassuming little corner pub. From the outside, the Coach and Horses on Greek Street looks like... well, just another Soho boozer. But step a little closer, because behind those doors lies one of the most extraordinary stories in London pub history.

   The history of this place can be traced back to the early eighteenth century, with a licence under the name Coach and Horses recorded from seventeen twenty-four. That's over three hundred years of pouring pints on this very spot. The building you see today was constructed in the eighteen forties, and its distinctive frontage belongs to an eighteen eighty-nine remodelling.

   But the Real story starts on a freezing February afternoon in nineteen forty-three. A teenage boy named Norman Balon arrived in Soho to a pub deprived of glass from Blitz bombings. His father Jack had acquired the lease that very morning, and moments later, with a brief phone call saying "leave college immediately and come and work in the pub," young Norman took his place behind the bar by three pm that afternoon. He was just sixteen years old. And he would stay for Sixty-Three years... becoming the Only job he ever had.

   Norman cultivated a very specific reputation. He had his self-proclaimed title, "London's rudest landlord," printed on matchboxes. And he meant it. He was known to throw people out for wearing football shirts, shorts, or simply being a tourist too slow with their order. Someone once asked him for a Snakebite... His reply? "We don't do cocktails in here. Get out."

   But here's the thing... everybody Loved it. His time in charge saw the pub come to be frequented by writers, artists, musicians, and actors, including Jeffrey Bernard, Francis Bacon, Lucien Freud, Peter O'Toole, and John Hurt. The satirical magazine Private Eye held their fortnightly lunches upstairs, hoping a plentiful supply of cheap wine would prompt an indiscretion from one of the guests.

   And then there was Jeffrey Bernard... the columnist who wrote the "Low Life" column for The Spectator magazine. He frequently missed deadlines, at which point the magazine would simply print the words "Jeffrey Bernard is unwell" instead of the expected column. Everyone knew what That meant. The bohemian atmosphere of the Coach and Horses was captured in Keith Waterhouse's nineteen eighty-nine play, "Jeffrey Bernard Is Unwell," with the pub's interior faithfully recreated for the stage of the nearby Apollo Theatre. Peter O'Toole starred... a man who, shall we say, had been rehearsing the role his entire life.

   Now, one last delicious detail. In more recent years, the Coach and Horses became reportedly the first and only pub in the country to be granted a nudist licence. Yes, you heard that correctly. Drinkers gathered for what was described as London's first nudist pub sing-along, as a protest against Fuller's Brewery's decision not to renew the landlord's lease. Only in Soho.

   So take a moment. Glance through those windows. The Coach and Horses looks much the same as it did decades ago... and that is exactly the point.

8. 8. The French House

   49 Dean Street, London W1D 5BE

   Look at the building in front of you... number forty-nine Dean Street. See the blue awnings, the French tricolour flying outside? This is The French House — Soho's most gloriously eccentric pub. And its story is Full of contradictions.

   It was opened in eighteen ninety-one by a German national named Christian Schmitt, and traded as the York Minster. A German pub, in the heart of Soho. But here's where it gets interesting. When the First World War broke out, Schmitt's widow sold the pub to a Belgian named Victor Berlemont, who'd moved to London in nineteen hundred. Victor was the First foreigner to become the landlord of a British pub, and with his French accent and extravagant moustache, he lent the place a Gallic air.

   So... a German pub, run by a Belgian, pretending to be French. Only in Soho.

   Victor was a fan of boxing and actually installed a Ring in the basement for his hero, the French boxer Carpentier, to take on those who dared. Imagine — prize fights in the cellar of this tiny pub!

   Then came the war that would define this place forever. After the fall of France during the Second World War, General Charles de Gaulle escaped to London where he formed the Free French Forces. His famous speech rallying the French people — "À tous les Français" — is Said to have been written in the pub. Right upstairs, in that small room above the bar. Though there's no real evidence to support this — it's just one of the many wonderful stories woven into its fabric over the years.

   The pub's French associations drew other visitors, including Maurice Chevalier and Edith Piaf.

   Victor's son Gaston Berlemont was born in the pub in nineteen fourteen, and worked there until his retirement in nineteen eighty-nine. Like his father, he wore a handlebar moustache, and with his pastis-drinking and extravagant hand kissing, he laid on the French charm. Regulars knew full well his father was actually Belgian... yet he got away with it because he was Kind. He used to cash cheques for regulars even knowing they'd bounce — one of Soho's unofficial banks.

   When Gaston finally retired, he chose the Frenchest date he possibly could... July fourteenth, nineteen eighty-nine — the two hundredth anniversary of the fall of the Bastille.

   Now, about that famous half-pint rule. Beer is served in half pints Only. This stems from an incident in the nineteen twenties when a bunch of rowdy sailors used their pint glasses as weapons and smashed each other over the heads. The Berlemonts decided — never again.

   And the literary legends? Brendan Behan wrote large portions of "The Quare Fellow" here, and Dylan Thomas once allegedly left the manuscript of "Under Milk Wood" under his chair. Though some historians skeptically suspect this never actually happened.

   The French still boasts a bohemian clientele and encourages good conversation with a no music, no machines, and no television rule. No phones either. Just people... actually Talking to each other. In the age of scrolling, this tiny pub might be the most radical place in London.

9. 9. St Anne's Church Tower — Dorothy L. Sayers Connection

   St Anne's Church Tower, Wardour Street, London W1D 6AA

10. 10. Algerian Coffee Stores

    52 Old Compton Street, London W1D 4PB

11. 11. Quo Vadis & the Karl Marx Plaque

    26-29 Dean Street, London W1D 3LL

    Look up at the building in front of you... twenty six to twenty nine Dean Street. Today it's Quo Vah-dis, one of Soho's most celebrated restaurants, where champagne corks pop and oysters glide across white tablecloths. But in the eighteen fifties... this was one of the most wretched addresses in all of London.

    Karl Marx and his family lived in two houses on Dean Street... first number sixty four, and then number twenty eight. At number twenty eight, they rented just two tiny rooms on the top floor of this very building. The rent was twenty two pounds a year. Marx himself described it as "a hovel."

    And we know Exactly what it looked like inside, because... Marx was closely followed by Prussian spies who sent regular reports on his life in Dean Street to the Prussian Minister of the Interior. And here's the delicious twist... that minister was Marx's own Brother-in-law! Ferdinand von Westphalen, who had failed to prevent his sister Jenny from marrying Karl, wanted to know the worst.

    One spy who bluffed his way in wrote this: "Marx lives in one of the worst, and therefore one of the cheapest, quarters of London. He occupies two rooms. There is not one clean and solid piece of furniture in the whole apartment." The eighteen fifty one census recorded Eighteen people living in this single building.

    Life for the Marx family here was desperately hard. Three of Jenny and Karl's children died during their time on Dean Street... two within a year of their birth, while little Edgar died in his father's arms shortly after his eighth birthday. Marx claimed he rarely went out because, as he put it, "my clothes are in pawn." While the spies outside wondered what devilish schemes he was hatching, the truth was... Karl Marx couldn't leave the flat because he had nothing to Wear.

    And yet! Despite all this misery, he was busy writing the first volume of his most famous work, Das Kapital, regularly carrying out research at the library of the British Museum. He once joked, "I don't suppose anyone has ever written about money when so short of the stuff."

    The restaurant was founded in nineteen twenty six by Peppino Leoni, who originally opened Quo Vah-dis at number twenty seven alone, purchasing the property with a bank loan of just eight hundred pounds. Its name was chosen after Leoni saw a billboard in Leicester Square advertising a film of the same name. Quo vadis... Latin for "Where are you going?" A fitting question for a building with This many lives.

    Now, before you walk away, here's a hidden gem most people miss entirely. On the front right of the restaurant facade, there's the curious sight of a small human nose protruding from the wall. See if you can spot it! It's a plaster cast of artist Rick Buckley's own nose, one of about thirty five he installed overnight across London in nineteen ninety seven as a protest against Cctv surveillance cameras. Legend has it that finding all seven surviving noses of Soho will bring you great fortune. You've found one... only six to go.

12. 12. The John Snow Pump

    Broadwick Street, London W1F 9EP

    Look at this unassuming little pump right here on Broadwick Street. Most people walk straight past it... but you're standing at one of the most important spots in the history of medicine.

    It's the summer of eighteen fifty-four. Soho is no longer the fashionable district it once was. The grand terraced houses, originally built for upper-middle-class families, have been carved into cramped tenements — some holding up to Fifty people in a single building. Residents on upper floors were even known to haul cows upstairs to supply milk. Raw sewage pools in the gutters. Cesspits fester beneath nearly every home.

    Then, on August thirty-first... death arrives. A baby named Frances Lewis dies after four days of violent illness. Her mother Sarah washes out the child's soiled clothes and tips the filthy water into the cesspool right across from their front door. That cesspool... leaked straight into this very well.

    Within Ten days, more than five hundred people living in the immediate vicinity were dead.

    Now, everyone at the time blamed "miasma" — bad air. The stench of the city was surely the killer, they believed. But a local doctor named John Snow had a radical, almost heretical idea. He thought the water was poisoned.

    Snow spent two sleepless days and nights going door to door, inspecting homes, interviewing locals and doctors, combing through death records — until finally, he plotted everything on a map. People later called it a "ghost map" — Soho overwhelmed by stacks of black lines, each one a death.

    But here's a detail most people miss. Brewery workers right next door to the pump Escaped the epidemic entirely — because they had their own private well and, let's be honest, probably drank more beer than water. And a woman who died far away in Hampstead turned out to be a former Broad Street resident who loved the cold, slightly carbonated taste of This pump's water — and had sent someone to fetch her a bottle.

    On September seventh, Snow presented his evidence. Not a single member of his own profession believed him. But he was persuasive enough that the parish authorities agreed to remove the pump handle. The epidemic faded.

    And yet... Snow Never got his credit. He died at just forty-five, only a few years later, while working on a paper about chloroform and anaesthetics. Oh yes — this same man had also administered chloroform to Queen Victoria during childbirth. He was brilliant in Two fields and recognized in neither during his lifetime.

    The replica pump you see here was installed in nineteen ninety-two. And notice the pub right beside it — the John Snow pub. Snow himself was a lifelong teetotaler, so he may or may not have approved of That particular tribute.

    Every year, the John Snow Society holds what they call "Pumphandle Lectures" right here — a reminder that one stubborn doctor, a simple map, and a removed pump handle helped launch the entire science of epidemiology... and ultimately saved millions of lives.

13. 13. Golden Square

    Golden Square, London W1F 9HS

    Look around you. This quiet little square, tucked just behind Regent Street, is one of Soho's best-kept secrets. Welcome to Golden Square... a place that has been silently collecting extraordinary stories for over three hundred and fifty years.

    But here's the thing most people don't know. You're standing on a mass grave. During the Great Plague of sixteen sixty-five, death carts rolled through here each night, dumping dozens of corpses into the earth. By some estimates, over four thousand plague-infected bodies were buried right beneath your feet. Locals gave this land a chilling name... "Earl Craven's pest-field." For two full generations, nobody Dared build here for fear of infection. But eventually, London's hunger for housing won out... and the plague pit was paved over into one of the city's most fashionable addresses.

    The name "Golden Square" is believed to come from "Gelding Close," referring to the horse-grazing land that once stood here. But the new wealthy residents thought "Gelding Close" wasn't refined enough, so they quietly changed it to "Golden."

    Now, see that weathered statue in the centre? Nobody's even sure Who it is! Confusion surrounds whether it represents King George the Second or King Charles the Second. And the story of how it got here is priceless. Legend has it the statue was accidentally won at auction when the unwitting bidder raised his hand... simply to greet a friend. The price was so absurdly low, he didn't bother contesting it — and instead gave it as a gift to the people of Golden Square!

    In the middle of the eighteenth century, this tiny square became a pocket of international diplomacy. From seventeen twenty-four to seventeen eighty-eight, there was at least one foreign legation here. Even the Tsarina's envoy, Prince Cantemir, lived at number six from seventeen thirty-two to seventeen thirty-seven. And because these embassies from Catholic countries enjoyed diplomatic immunity, a Bavarian Catholic Chapel was quietly built in the gardens behind the square — on Warwick Street — right under the nose of a staunchly anti-Catholic government. That chapel was attacked by a furious mob during the Gordon Riots of seventeen eighty.

    Now look down at the pavement near numbers two and three. Here you'll find the UK's First Stolperstein — a "stumbling stone." It remembers Ada van Dantzig, a young Dutch Jewish woman who came to London in the nineteen thirties to study painting restoration in a studio right here in Golden Square. Against the advice of friends, she returned to Rotterdam in nineteen thirty-nine to help her family. They tried to reach neutral Switzerland... but Ada and her parents were deported to Auschwitz, where they were murdered on February fourteenth, nineteen forty-three. That tiny brass square in the pavement... is one of the most quietly powerful memorials in all of London.

    And those roses in the flower beds? They were a gift of goodwill from the Bulgarian capital city of Sofia, given in nineteen seventy-two. A small gesture of beauty, planted in soil that holds centuries of untold stories.

14. 14. Kingly Court — Hidden Courtyard

    Kingly Court, Carnaby Street, London W1B 5PW

    Now look around you. We just slipped off Carnaby Street through a narrow passageway... and suddenly the noise, the crowds, the chaos of Soho — it all falls away. Welcome to Kingly Court... one of London's best-kept secrets, hiding in plain sight.

    This enormous three-storey courtyard is right Here, tucked between Carnaby Street and Beak Street, and yet thousands of people walk past those unassuming entrances every single day without ever knowing it exists.

    Now, the ground beneath your feet has a story that goes back over three hundred years. In sixteen eighty-two, Sir William Pulteney leased this land — then part of a place called Six Acre Close — to a bricklayer named Richard Tyler. But there was a catch. Part of the ground was excluded from the lease... because a windmill and a well had once stood here. The lease even preserved the right to rebuild that windmill if anyone ever wanted to. And historians believe that excluded ground... may be the very site of Kingly Court.

    So you're standing on what was once a windmill plot in open fields, just north of Piccadilly. The street beside us, Kingly Street, was known simply as King Street until nineteen oh six — renamed to avoid confusion with the many other King Streets across London.

    And this street has Extraordinary secrets. At number eleven, there was a place called the Tatty Bogle — an after-hours drinking club. During World War Two, it doubled as a bomb shelter, and its membership book included the names Guy Burgess, Donald Maclean, and Anthony Blunt — three of the infamous Cambridge Five Soviet spies! Imagine them huddled down there, just meters from where you're standing, sipping whisky while bombs fell overhead... and while secretly passing state secrets to Moscow.

    And at number Nine Kingly Street, a basement club called the Bag O'Nails opened in nineteen sixty-five. On the twenty-fifth of November, nineteen sixty-six, the Jimi Hendrix Experience played their First ever gig there. The club only held a hundred people, and the audience that night was staggering — Eric Clapton, John Lennon, Paul Mccartney, Mick Jagger, Jimmy Page. Rock royalty, crammed into a tiny cellar. And it was Here that Paul Mccartney met his future wife, Linda Eastman, on the fifteenth of May, nineteen sixty-seven.

    Now, as for Kingly Court itself — by the mid-twentieth century, this courtyard had become... a car park. Just a dull patch of concrete. But a recent redevelopment transformed it into a culinary haven, inspired by bustling European piazzas.

    And here's one more hidden gem within this hidden gem. Somewhere beneath your feet is Cahoots — a theatrical cocktail bar themed as a fictional nineteen-forties underground station, complete with a life-size vintage tube carriage, tucked away in Kingly Court. You descend old wooden escalators, follow signs reading "To the Trains"... and find yourself in a world of swing music, wartime cocktails, and bunting. There is, of course, no real tube station down there. It's pure imagination. But in Soho... the line between reality and fantasy has always been deliciously blurred.

15. 15. Shakespeare's Head Pub

    29 Great Marlborough Street, London W1F 7HZ

    Look up... just a little higher. Do you see him? There, in the first-floor window... William Shakespeare himself, gazing down at the crowds below with that unmistakable half-smile. Welcome to the Shakespeare's Head.

    Now, this pub has been standing on this corner since seventeen thirty-five, and the story goes like this. It was originally owned by Thomas and John Shakespeare, who were distant relatives of the poet. At least... that's what They claimed. William Shakespeare had no direct descendants and died a hundred and nineteen years before the pub was built, so the connection is, shall we say, creative. After all, the Shakespeare's Head is a fairly common pub name in London — others can be found in Holborn, the City, Kingsway, and Finsbury. But Thomas and John were clever marketers... and their story has only grown More convincing with each passing century.

    Now look at that bust more carefully. Notice anything missing? He's only got one hand. The life-size bust appears to be gazing down at the busy street below, but a close examination will show one of the poet's hands is missing — this occurred during World War Two when a bomb dropped nearby. At least, that's what the pub's sign says. The bust was added around nineteen hundred, so it survived about forty years before the Blitz took its toll. Some skeptics think the hand simply... fell off. But why ruin a perfectly good war story?

    And this street — Great Marlborough Street — has its own wild past. Joshua Brookes ran a private anatomy school and museum from his home on Great Marlborough Street, just steps from where you're standing. Brookes established his anatomical museum in the mid seventeen eighties, and it was said by visitors to rank second only to that of John Hunter in terms of scale. Brookes kept a menagerie of living animals in the grounds of his school — imagine the Smell wafting past pub-goers on a summer evening!

    And just across the road? The Marlborough Street Magistrates Court sat at numbers nineteen to twenty-one Great Marlborough Street. In eighteen thirty-five, a young Charles Dickens worked there as a reporter for the Morning Chronicle, and in eighteen ninety-five, Oscar Wilde sued the Marquess of Queensberry for criminal libel. Fast forward to the swinging sixties and seventies... John Lennon's case regarding sexually explicit lithographs was thrown out on a technicality in nineteen seventy, and Keith Richards received a fine for possession of heroin, mandrax, marijuana, a Smith and Wesson revolver, And an antique shotgun. Rock and roll indeed. The court is now the venue for the Courthouse Hotel, and the former prison cells have been turned into cosy bar booths.

    So here sits Shakespeare — one-handed, blue-faced, peering over Carnaby Street for nearly a century now. The greatest playwright who ever lived... keeping watch over a street of anatomy schools, rock-star criminals, and very good pints.

16. 16. Liberty London's Secret Ship Timbers

    Liberty London, Great Marlborough Street, London W1B 5AH

    Take a good look at the building in front of you. Those dark, weathered timbers running across the facade of Liberty London... they look like they belong to some grand Elizabethan manor house, don't they? But here's the secret. You're actually staring at the bones of two Royal Navy warships.

    This extraordinary Tudor revival building began construction in nineteen twenty-four, using timber recycled from two old Royal Navy ships — Hms Hindustan and Hms Impregnable. And the story behind those ships is remarkable.

    Hms Impregnable was originally built and launched as Hms Howe in eighteen sixty — a hundred and twenty-one gun warship, and here's what makes her special: she was the Royal Navy's Last ever wooden warship. Think about that. The final chapter of centuries of British wooden shipbuilding... is now holding up a department store in Soho.

    Hms Howe and her sister ship were the first and only British three-decker ships of the line designed from the start for screw propulsion. But ironically, Howe never served on active duty during her lifetime. She was already obsolete — ironclad ships had taken over. She was renamed Impregnable in eighteen eighty-six and became a boys' training ship in Devonport.

    Now, look up at the length of the building along Great Marlborough Street. The frontage is the same length as Hms Hindustan. You're literally looking at the silhouette of a warship, docked right here in the West End!

    And the numbers are staggering. Records show more than twenty-four thousand cubic feet of ships' timbers were used, including their decks, which now form the shop flooring. Hms Impregnable alone was built from three thousand and forty hundred-year-old oaks from the New Forest. So those floorboards inside? They're made of oak that was already ancient when Admiral Lord Howe first commanded the Channel Fleet.

    The Tudor building actually sailed into existence as a riposte to strict urban planning rules — the Crown Estate insisted all buildings on Regent Street conform to a classical facade. But since Great Marlborough Street was a freehold site, the designers could get creative. The result was this glorious act of architectural rebellion.

    And if you step inside — which I highly recommend — look for carved wooden animals hidden around the store: a cheeky monkey, a frog on the stair, and a hungry bear. Legend has it that when the last light is extinguished at night, these animals awaken to make merriment and cause mischief.

    One more thing before you go. Look up — the weathervane on top of the store bears a model of the Mayflower, the ship that carried the Pilgrims to America. A fitting crown for a building made of ships... hiding in plain sight on a Soho street corner.