Each time I pass the "cloakroom" (blame the agent's For Sale particulars from when we bought), I think there's someone there.
A random, disembodied leg.
Well, not quite. It's my Mum's third (and spare one). The original left one having been amputated some 18 months ago.
Despite that, today we walked (well I pushed) my Mum all around Finsbury Park, to Emirates, and back, with Dad (who's knees don't work) in tow!
It was a good day. In London the sun shone.