In a traffic island marooned off the messy 60s junction that guillotines the town centre in two, there is a block of diddy modern granny flats plonked incongruously between the grander remains of the Regency front, with an even more incongruous Blue Plaque hidden behind the wheelie bins that nobody is able to read. Michael Faraday, it tells you in very underwhelming and matter-of-fact language, stayed in a cottage on this site the summer before he presented the Royal Institut