This sentiment pushes all my buttons. Way back in 1965 or 1966, we were visiting grandma near Inverness and Florence, and I asked my dad if I caught a pigeon, could I take it home to Plymouth. They all laughed and said "OK, sure". And I wandered around the streets, sidewalks buckled over elm roots [[I was only nine or ten years old), and I eventually cornered one in someone's backyard [[no adult supervision, I just wandered, and it was safe, just like Plymouth, but better, way better, like what London was, I thought). I took the pigeon back and showed them, and they all backed away from their promise, and I had to leave the pigeon behind. But it was a sweet time, and a sweet city. So, how do we get back to those times? Seriously, that's what needs to be done. But how? It's frustrating.