So for my research, I'm looking at various different sites of emotional history around London. I would say London is essentially an emotional city. As I was saying earlier, I really love London because it is a multi-layered city in so many different ways. But I love the way that you can be walking down the street in London, and you're kind of assaulted subconsciously or not by so many different references to the past and symbolism and the idea of history being all around you, even as you go about your everyday life. And a lot of my research is based around the kind of genealogies of psychogeography, as a theory and practice, can be used to explain and kind of share and exemplify the way in which we as individuals tap into the emotional history of a place or space. So in the 1950s, there was a group called the Leftist Situationist, and in a 1955 essay, one of the four founders of this movement explained that psychogeography could be defined as the study of the specific effects of the geographical environment, consciously organised or not, on the emotions and behaviours of individuals. These early psycho geographers, such as Guy DeBord and his kind of peers, they would roam the streets of Paris, picking up on the subconscious messages they received as they wandered around the streets and the squares. But what I'm really interested in is making that applicable to the heritage world, and how we as museum and heritage educators and facilitators, encourage people to look at the built environment, and places and spaces around them, and encourage them to pick up on the emotional history of place. So, one of my case studies, it's not the main focus of my research, but it was one that I was really interested in as a site anyway, was the site of the Tyburn Tree. And in my thesis I sort of, or in this case study, I start off with this idea that I imagine, as an experiment, I took you to a specific traffic island in central London. This is one that is on the corner of Marbella Edgware Road and Lancaster Gate. And I asked you to stand there in the middle and try and see if he could decipher any resonance of past events, feelings, emotions left there. I wouldn't give you any kind of secondary information about the place, no text, no maps, no images, but I would ask you to experience it in its kind of reality, in the here and now, in that moment. And you're standing in the middle of this traffic island, you can hear traffic passing you by, you can hear the beep of the pedestrian crossing, you can hear planes overhead. But could you also sort of tap into your subconscious? And could you tap into the psychogeography of the site perhaps? Would there be anything that you could pick up from this very mundane, very everyday type of place, to tell you the history of the importance of this site specifically? For example, this site that I'm talking about is the site off where between 1196 and 1783 criminals were executed on the famous portable gallows, known colloquially as the Tyburn Tree. So it was the site of execution in London, one of many, but one of the principle sites of execution. And at the moment, the only thing that remains of the Tyburn Tree is a stone plaque embedded into the traffic islands, which is probably about, I don't know, 40 centimeters by 40. And it just says the Tyburn Tree around it, and it's actually managed and maintained by English Heritage. But you also wouldn't know that down the road, just slightly towards Lancaster Gate, there's actually a convent where the nuns, the Tyburn convent, where the nuns there pray for the souls of the Catholic martyrs who died at Tyburn. So, it's really interesting from this very mundane and incongruous site, you actually have a little community of nuns nearby that are keeping the memory and the emotional history of the site alive in the present day. So that was something I was really interested in. If nothing exists on the ground, if you can't see anything, this is the same for battlefields for sites of protest. There's lots and lots of research and lots and lots of academic literature on the way in which battlefields are interpreted, for example, but I wanted to look at this in the urban realm. So the idea of the tree at Tyburn, this idea of a site of execution really fascinated me because for six centuries almost in London, the word Tyburn was associated with death, and it was associated with execution. But then the place itself has lost its significance, it's lost its importance. It's still a crossroad, it still performs that function, but it's no longer connected with this kind of macabre gruesome history. So what I'm interested in is whether if you stand in that traffic island, can you actually pick up any of that emotional history? Is there anything left? And if we do not have any information about it, that we are given, there's nothing to support our learning. How then do places retain, have a place memory that they keep with them?