As it was sunny this morning, I took a short detour to visit Bellevue Place, previously known as Bunghole Alley, one of those strange, secret pockets of the old East end, where one imagines artisan engravers might have lived.   It’s tucked in behind what was Wickham’s department store, the Selfridge’s of the east end.   I first visited it in 1971 with Nairn’s London in hand.   One enters by a metal door which I expected to be locked and finds an overgrown cul-de-sac full of summer flowers: