They describe themseleves as a 'village shop in the City' and sell everything 'typically english' you could dream of, from homemade scotch eggs to english meade, this tiny shop is the reason I cross the road early every morning, just to see what treats they've got in for the day.
There is a rather beautiful faded glory to these mythical creatures, which flank the steps guarding the ruins of the Italian Terraces in front of the former Crystal Palace, which dramatically burnt down in 1936.