I have written about the pilot Inn before. It’s a pub on the North Greenwich Peninsula, not far from the O2. It looks like it’s a couple of hundred years old, and is at the end of a terrace of four or five houses. I go past it fairly frequently, either on a bus or just in my powerchair. I must say, though, that it’s looking stranger and stranger, and more and more out of place: like the rest of east London, the Greenwich Peninsula is getting rapidly built up. It has changed enormously even since I moved down here. Countless blocks of upmarket flats have sprung up where there were once car parks for the arena. Yet, oddly, The Pilot Inn has been allowed to remain where it is, like some remnant of a time long gone. More than ever, it looks totally out of place, the surrounding tall buildings leaning in on it; yet somehow still seems to being where it is. What more fitting image could there be of modern London in general?