Dickensian London. Sinister alleyways and blanketing fogs, a timeless river and cosy inns, prosperous middle-class families and ragged street urchins, gracious houses and hellish workhouses. But there was, and is, another Dickensian London. A happier, greener London where Charles Dickens went for a break from his frenetic workload, for a bit of R&R with his family, for celebrations with friends. And on 7 February, his birthday, it wouldn’t have been surprising to find Dickens there.