One morning, during our recent vacation in Florida, my wife and I decided to take a walk. We passed the many restaurants, hotels, and shops, for which Orlando is so famous. Then we turned a corner and found ourselves on an entirely different street. Suddenly, the architecture looked completely different. The sign on the building read Grimmauld Place. I stopped outside Number 12, where I saw a curtain twitch in the second-floor window.
A strange face peered out. I waved at him and smiled. If he saw me, he returned neither gesture.
Then a double-decker bus pulled up, and a driver waved me over. He offered to give us a lift to someplace called Diagon Alley. It sounded like an interesting place to visit.
His friend inside the vehicle was likewise warm and welcoming, and kept up the wise cracks. But then we noticed that we could only see his head, not his body. This made us anxious, so we quietly slipped off the bus, and stole away.
It was such an attractive place, and reminded us so much of London. I would never have expected to find a street like that in Florida. But then Orlando, like London, is a magical place.