Sat almost in the shadow of St Pauls Cathedral, Postman's Park is a hidden jewel in the Secret gardens of the City of London. Its visitors are a mix of those who stumble upon the green oasis by accident and faithful adherents who return year after year to see the one thing that makes this little park so very special.

The Victorian Memorial to Heroic Self-Sacrifice rather like those it commemorates, is an unsung highlight of London. Unvisited and unknown by many but dearly loved by those who have spent any length of time at all here. The memorial commemorates a group of men, women, boys and girls who lost their lives whilst attempting to save others.

No-one who ever visits the memorial can ever forget the experience, usually an overwhelmingly sad, maudlin one with names and the briefest of descriptions of how one way or the other, the people remembered tragically lost their lives whilst saving or attempting to save the lives of others.

I long ago had my heart touched and repeatedly so by this memorial and as I visit several times a week I have yet to notice that feeling go away. I hope it never does.

I've been visiting the memorial on an almost daily basis as part of my job having created Ye Olde England Tours in 2013 and specialising in going to places in London that even Londoners don't seem to know.

On the 6th February 2020 I was on the underground when a crazed man went to push two people off a tube train. Seeing what was about to transpire I pushed them both out of harms way only to be pushed backwards of the train myself, onto the edge of the platform and then down onto the tracks.

Miraculously I made it through in almost one piece and after leaving St Bartholomew's Hospital, hobbled round to Postman's Park and sat in agony and somewhat bemused at what had transpired. I realised that not only had I risked my life to save two strangers but that it was only due to a stroke of luck that had prevented me suffering the same fate as those heroic names on the wall that I was so familiar with.

I decided I wanted to visit the places that they had died, whether they were at all recognisable today after a century or more of wars and development. And even if the places aren’t the same, I wanted a clearer idea of who they were, what they did. I felt a connection with these people and I wanted to travel in their footsteps so to speak.

Angels of Postman's Park is part history book, part guide book (everything you need to visit the sites is inside) and part in some ways a personal journey, a pilgrimage perhaps. Over a year of traipsing around the darkest corners of London in all weathers visiting the scenes of long forgotten tragedies or at least places with strong connections to those involved.

Like some of my other books, it isn’t meant to be highly academic but rather a labour of love to some very special people I have never met but of whom I think of every day. I hope it does honour their courage and humanity just a little bit as someone who has walked a little way in their shoes.