This is another east end tradition gone because of 'progress'. Down the road, outside the pub every night from Thursday to Saturday, this man had his fresh seafood stall. Cockles, crab, whelks, mussels, you name it. All freshly caught each morning and on sale every night. His stall was immaculate. And an interesting man too - he spent years being a minder to the stars and knew all the big names in the underworld. His scrapbook was something to be seen. But then the owners of the pub moved on and it was bought up by a faceless, squeaky clean outfit that didn't want its 'image' ruined by such a reminder of the old days. It wanted to sell spritzers and olives stuffed with cashew nuts. So he moved on. Somewhere in London he's still plying late night drinkers with good old east end staples and loving the freedom of a footloose life. Good luck to him.