It was a desolate patch of ground not far from London Bridge, its original purpose long forgotten, when the London transport authority slated it for development.

But when John Constable heard about the plan for the place known as Crossbones, he was determined to stop it. A poet, author, and local historian Constable had received a visitation in 1996 from a medieval prostitute who called herself “The Goose” and told him her story. It was only after he had turned her words into a long poem that his research showed that the term “Winchester’s Geese” had been a euphemism for prostitutes in that area since the sixteenth century. Although the Bishop of Winchester himself had sanctioned the women to ply their trades there, when they died, the church wanted nothing more to do with them and they were buried in unconsecrated ground.

Thanks to the efforts of John Constable and others, Crossbones is now a garden. On the 23^rd of each month people attend a vigil there that includes song, poetry readings, and meditations. The gates outside the garden have become an impromptu memorial woven with offerings of ribbons, flowers, and the kinds of bawdy tribute a woman of the night might have liked.