by Jude Rogers
Almost eight years ago, I dared to go to the end of the line. I was a new girl in Dalston’s Ridley Road, and the North London Line that lay at the end of the market, past the huge snails, the hung chicken heads and the snowywhite webs of tripe, kept daring me to go east for pleasure, rather than head west for work. So one day I turned right instead of left, and went to North Woolwich. [read more…]
I’ve not seen that Allen Road door open in five years. Then, today: a hand around the red paint, a bottle on the doorstep, neon-pink fingernails disappearing through the cobwebs.
by Jude Rogers
Highbury Fields, ten in the morning, the soft breaths of early summer rising from glossy blades of grass. Today, N5 is showing off in the sunshine, wiggling her shoulders, hoisting up her skirts, auditioning her exquisiteness for a Richard Curtis rom-com. [read more…]