Before the office blocks, a web of small lanes around Moorgate fed the City with bread, ale and oysters — and left barely a trace behind.
The bombs of the 1940s cleared swathes of Moorgate, and what replaced them set the template for the vertical City we know today.
A handful of Moorgate pubs have survived redevelopment, changing tastes and the rise of the after-work crowd — and they carry the area's social history in their walls.
From a medieval postern in the City wall to a busy interchange, Moorgate station's story mirrors the growth of London itself.
Between the office towers and the transport hubs, Moorgate hides small pockets of quiet — churchyards, gardens and passages where the City slows down.
Long before Moorgate was a station and a street, it was a gate in the wall beside a marsh — and the water that shaped it still runs, culverted, beneath your feet.
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