We were real bucketheads and we've got to make up for a lot of lost time. Even if we didn't know enough about the Communist conspiracy in those days to get out from behind the front organizations, then we certainly should have brains enough now to make amends by taking an active part in the present-day endeavors dedicated to exposing and destroying the Fifth Column in our professions.

If Euston is not typically English, St. Pancras is. Its façade is a nightmare of improbable Gothic. It is fairly plastered with the aesthetic ideals of 1868, and the only beautiful thing about it is Barlow's roof. It is haunted by the stuffier kind of ghost. Yet there is something about the ordered whole of St. Pancras that would make demolition a terrible pity.

It was April 22, 1831, and a young man was walking down Whitehall in the direction of Parliament Street.[…]. He halted opposite the Privy Gardens, and, with his face turned skywards, listened until the sound of the Tower guns smote again on the ear and dispelled his doubts.

The Life and Times of Rosie the Riveter.