The Regency is dead, longlive the Regency

Was the London of before ever quite real? I only know it has gone: the smog has cleared, there are no chimney sweeps dancing on the rooftops and cockney accents are today confined to either E Pellicci or Guy Ritchie movies.

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More disappearing acts are billed: after 111 years of ladling parsley sauce gelatinous with eel stock - "liquor" - the Deptford Manze's will evaporate into the great East End in the sky. Harringtons Eel and Pie House will ascend shortly after. Once there existed hundreds of these places. No longer.

Many of them are listed buildings, their innards fossilised in the same manner as the pie recipes, which come shaped by superstitions. These shops predominantly serve the East End and those who grew up with them say they are comforting places serving comforting food. I recognise that familiar rooms and friendly prices mean something to people. But they seem also to be museums of some kind, though of what and for whom isn't entirely clear.

Greasy spoons are something I do understand. London's most famous one -King of the Fatboys - is the Regency Cafe, where it's all up in the air as well.