It was fascinating to learn of the silk weavers, the Jewish synagogues and the Moorish market.
However, we kept coinciding with other guided tours. Punters in lanyards clustered around leaders with flags. We must have crossed paths with at least five such groups.
Eavesdropping revealed that the others were all Jack the Ripper tours. When there was so much fascinating culture in that part of London, this particular ghoulish preoccupation seemed uncalled for.
I have always been keen to avoid finding out exactly what the deranged serial killer did to his wretched victims but on Saturday I overheard far too much about entrails. There even appears to be a difference in status between 'official' victims of Jack the Ripper and 'unofficial' ones whose grisly deaths have not been conclusively attributed to him.
We then began to notice other manifestations of this gruesome tale. The local barber was Jack the Clipper, the fast food van was entitled Jack the Chipper. We imagined other local businesses we might set up in Whitechapel. Jack the flipper (selling burgers). Jack the nipper (selling cosmetic surgery). Jack the tripper, selling...well, you get it.
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