Cargill's Haberdashery

Why do I bet that Norman didn't end up in a shite hole and have to deal with rats as long as a man's arm. I really hate rats...at least this isn't the era of the black plague. Using a handy feature, I built into the wrist device, the rats scamper off...it's the little things that make this whole ripping party bearable.
Pushing the manhole cover over, I call out to Warren to hand up the bags; one by one, I toss them to the black road surface and pull myself out, followed by Warren. Out of that hell hole, Warren seems more relaxed, but his disorientation sickness will have other side affects. 
The area we seem to be in, is not an optimal place to stay long. According to my scanning sensors, and the map to correspond, roughly, we've come up near the City Prison on Park and Camden Roads, with St. Luke's Church directly across it. Odd; is it just a coincidence that the prison and church are together? Norman shouldn't be interested in either of these types of establishments. The whip end of the rip usually corresponds with the core rip location in some way, which is never clear, until the core location is worked out. Some triangulation will need to be calculated, but not now. 
First order is new clothes and rest. Several blocks, south of our present location, should be a man's dress shop called Cargill's Haberdashery. I hope that data is correct since I don't know what year it is and businesses can change; there was a limit to the information we downloaded before our first rip...that was a happier time for all. 
Motioning Warren to follow, we make our way down back streets and quiet alleys, before finding the shop. Standing at the entrance, Warren looks at me with a perplexed, mixed with concern expression hanging on his pale face. Afraid he will break the long silence we have shared since arriving, I shake my head sideways and lift a finger to my lips; pointing to the time distortion device, he nods an understanding response to my plan. Pressing the trigger, everything stops and a dense silence surrounds us; I jimmy open the door and we let our bags drop to the carpeted floor. Quickly stripping off our shoes, socks, and trousers, we locate each of these replacement items and finish up by leaving some cash with our putrid clothing remains. The shop keeper will have a fine time dealing with that mystery.
Exiting, I pull Warren along to get us as far away as possible. He can't take any more of this today and vomits in confirmation of my deep concern. Human beings may not be well suited for time travel. Muttering, Sorry, Warren pulls himself together again and we press on. As we continue walking South West on Camden Road, I note a place we can get cleaned up and rest for the day. Not much farther, I croak, we will recover at the Camden Turkish Baths on Kentish Road.
As the sky becomes lighter, we hear a train whistle; we are close now.