The clock below reads 5.50am, and already the place is bustling with activity. If I recall rightly, I'd risen at three to arrive there, and the doors were open for trading from 5am. The Victorian building is located in the heart of the square mile of the City of London.
The wholesale fish market began trading here in 1875, but was scheduled to relocate later in 1982, to new premises at London's East End.
The lad above is a "Barrow-Boy", paid to lug pallets of freezing fish from a to b. Dozens of them darted to and fro as I continued to weave my way through the place.
Note the lit cigarette in the fishmonger's hand!
I have no idea why security took such umbrage to me snapping these shots, it was way before terrorism was seen as the daily threat it is now.
All eels are sold live.
As, of course, are the mussels and lobster (can't recall about the crab).
I knew I was being followed by two suited planks, and it was only a matter of time before I'd be stopped. Sure enough, they informed me photography was strictly prohibited. So I smiled sweetly and put my camera away.
For a bit.
(Don't you think this bloke in the centre, is a dead ringer for a young Lenny Henry?)
They soon re-appeared again to confiscate two reels of film from me and my trusty Kodak.
Gladly, by then I'd already had the wisdom to hide this third reel of precious gems well away and out of reach from their thieving, grasping mitts, stuffed firmly away as it was, way down deep inside my bra.
The building still stands today, but reincarnated as an events arena, hosting such things as an MTV tribute to The Cure, and other likewise shenanigans.
I'm pleased I troubled to capture her in her older glory days.