Season 2

The motto of GOSH - London's Great Ormond Street Hospital - is "Children First and Always". Nearly all the children referred here are seriously ill. There is an underlying feeling of tension, but overall it's a happy place. A place for hope. Sunjeev is recovering from an operation. He thinks it's his 19th. Claire, who is 11, has just had a blockage removed. "Now I'll be able to grow," she says. "It'll cost my mum a lot of money in new clothes." Upstairs there's a party for Andrew who is one today; downstairs there's a party for Princess Michael of Kent who is opening a new ward this afternoon. As night draws in, the children are tucked up. Mothers sit with them until they fall asleep. Doctors start to go home. "But you can't just disappear and forget," says consultant surgeon Edward Kiely. "At least, I can't."

Every day a band of brave - some might say foolish - instructors set out in dual-control cars to teach people how to drive. Pupils like 69-year-old Mrs Patience Pumphrey. Her record to date: more than 100 lessons and two failed tests. "Trouble is I have good days and bad days", says Mrs P; "and sometimes they are very bad." Somewhere out there are actress Carolyn Allen, screaming whenever things go wrong; Vietnamese boat person Dip Nguyen who, fortunately, has now been persuaded to stop at pedestrian crossings, and instructor Diana Redmond, who smacks pupils when they make mistakes. And watch out - here comes Mrs Pumphrey to take yet another test...

Everything you always wanted to know about London's crooked square mile-but never dared to ask... Meet the King of Swing - Alfredo the doorman, who has sung with Frank Sinatra; and the Queen of Sound Effects Beryl, who is having problems unzipping a banana. Hear about naughty ladies and red stocking murders. Drink in the afternoon with Ian who knows all about hunting in Soho, and sympathise with old Frankie who says the girls just aren't what they used to be. He's right. Karen used to be a high-school teacher. Now she's a stripper. All in the best possible taste, of course...

The blue whale is undergoing cosmetic surgery, the dinosaur is being given a spring clean and the elephants and rhinoceroses are on the move. All this before the 7,500 visitors arrive for the day. Behind mahogany doors, away from the public, the scientists beaver away in their own little worlds. Dr David Wragg is trying to record the love call of the cricket. Peter Whitehead is messing about with sprats and Paul Hillyard is feeding his pet tarantulas. He actually likes spiders. "Nobody has ever been eaten by one," he says, "it's just that they have had a very bad press."

Every day in summer 75,000 people sail away from Dover across the Channel. Each ferry goes backwards and forwards three times. It can get very confusing to the crew - sometimes they have to ask passengers which way the boat is going. The passengers have their own problems. The Wallys, for instance, are trying to get to France. Trouble is, their car has broken down three times so far. When the ferry docks at Calais, Pru Lobbard isn't queueing to get off. She's only here for the duty free. "Well, they rip you off in France," she says, "and then there's all those dogs with muzzles..." Day trippers sing on in the bar, a nun buys her spirits allowance, and the chef fries the Dover sole that comes from Calais.

The Japanese are quiet. The French are a bit messy. The Germans are clean and friendly. And the English? "Arrogant, pushy and wanting all the attention," says Sandy O'Cunneff , who runs the ladies' loo at the Tower of London. Twelve thousand tourists "do" the Tower every day, guided by the Beefeaters - ex-soldiers who tell spine-chilling tales of blood and guts through the ages. Somewhere in all the chaos, a child is lost. And something that shouldn't be there is found in the Jewel House.

It is a golden autumn day in Richmond Park - a royal park, and a sanctuary of 2,500 peaceful acres on the doorstep of London. Pippa, Emma and Tufty, the squirrels, are being spoiled by Sally, a medical secretary. She feeds them expensive nuts. The Nutcracker is rehearsed by the boys of the Royal Ballet School. Two Japanese ladies hunt among the leaves for secret delicacies. Taxi drivers sneak into the park for a quick game of golf. Dogs are walked, pictures painted, model planes flown and bagpipes blown. And watching it all are the deer. Proud majestic creatures. It is, after all, their park...

They say that one of the worst things that can happen to ordinary people is moving house. Today Ronald Miller, 82, and his wife, Isabel, 75, are leaving the house in Dollis Hill that has been their home since their wedding day in 1930. Glynn and Carrie Boyd-Harte are moving into a 16-room mansion (with no heating) in London's West End. And in Clacton the Patels are worried about their temple being damaged in the move. For the removal men, of course, it's no big deal. There is a lot of huffing and puffing and the odd bit of cussing. But they are caring people. They care about tea-breaks, tips and, of course, their clients. "We have to be diplomats," says one man, "I mean, that's people's lives stuck on the back of our lorries."