One of my favourite summer jobs as a student in London in the early 1980s was cleaning the toilets at the Customs House office building on the banks of the Thames, next to the old Billingsgate Fish Market.
I would get up at dawn, cycle from my house in Peckham along near deserted streets to London Bridge, down Fish Street Hill and breathe in the heady aroma from the market. I would begin my shift at six o’clock, and although the building was quite extensive, I could usually get all my work done by nine, assuming there were no major blockages or spillages to deal with.
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