Welcome to Waverley. If you meet a boy named Frank Mills on September 12, right in front of this station, remember, these days you've got a personal organiser, haven't you? But he probably only wears that leather jacket these days to Robert Zimmerframe gigs. Still, as Mr Hitchcock says, it's either that or drop dead.
OK, so it doesn't look like this anymore. The revolutionary bookshop is gone, and so is the branch of Peckham's (snif). At least the roof is still held up by celery.
Places you (and this site) might consider going to include