So long as I was being a shameless literary tourist, I couldn't resist stopping by a few sites related to favourite mystery authors and characters.
The first was the statue of Sherlock Holmes in Picardy Place. Eleven Picardy Place, where Arthur Conan Doyle was born in 1859, was long ago demolished. But the Holmes statue stands in front of the spot where it once was. Unfortunately it also stands in the middle of a traffic circle with a parking lot on one side and a busy street on the other. Consequently you have to take your life in your hands to get a proper look at it.
The second was the Oxford Bar, a regular haunt of Ian Rankin's Inspector John Rebus. I didn't go in for a pint. I figured if the bar is as Rankin describes it, it might not be the most congenial spot for a woman to drink alone. And if it's not as Rankin describes it, why go in and have my illusions spoiled?