Having lived in London a while, I take pride in my ability to get from A to Z (train strikes notwithstanding). At the tail end of a Christmas dinner party, you might even hear me claiming to have that much-fabled item of London street lore, “The Knowledge”, bequeathed mysteriously (like the apostolic succession) to black cab drivers since time immemorial (or rather, the 1950s). It is a strange fact, which I repeat far too often, that I only get lost in London when using a satnav. Maybe The Knowledge is a bit like a gift of the Spirit; imparted to instinctual levels of awareness, implicitly guiding us but different from explicit, factual knowledge.