Swaps by Chris Long
All the same, I remember them – and everyone else who lived in a council block – putting notices in the local paper looking for swaps. That is, asking someone with a house and a garden if they would swap. Even at the time, the idea seemed a bit far-fetched: of course someone with a house and a garden would consider moving to the fifteenth floor of a block of flats where, when the wind blew hard, the water swayed in the toilet bowl. [read more…]
Yuri Gagarin, Greenwich Observatory by Matt Haynes
When, at 06:07 on the morning of 12th April 1961, Lieutenant Yuri Alekseyevich Gagarin of the Soviet Air Force strapped himself into the capsule of Vostok 1 as it waited on the launch pad at the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan and uttered the words “Let’s go!”, thus inaugurating the history of manned space flight, it always seemed likely that, should he return safely, he would be fêted around the world. [read more…]
Bin
by Christina Petrie
My broken devices
Stand in municipal juices.
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Threnody on the Suicide of a Parking Meter in Dagenham Brook, E10
by Matt Haynes
O dark devourer of the driver’s coin,
What broken dreams was this leap meant to fix?
What hope-denuded skyline did enjoin
You to cast off on this East London Styx?
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Dog by Howard Colyer
No kidding, mate, this has been in my family for 5,000 years, said one tramp to another while pointing at a small dog. [read more…]
with apologies to Richard Long
A line made by walking back from the pub.
[see more…]
The Twelve Days of Smoke
On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me…
[read more…]
by Daniel Ross
The first time we saw him was in 2009, on Euston Road by King’s Cross station. We walked right past him and then immediately turned to each other to remark on his outré ensemble and delightfully carefree disposition. What a case, we said. Much better than the Elvis impersonator we saw shuffling to a gig on Caledonian Road with full golden costume and burger sweats. [read more…]
by Nicolette Loizou
Totally without friends, Giles would frequent the Venue on his own and I was so pretentious and unloved that I thought we could form something of a nihilist pair. He thought so too. On our first night together he scraped all my hair from my face and said, “Well, you’ve got nice eyes.” He had a special chair in the club under which he would stash hummus and pitta bread just in case he got hungry. [read more…]
At Hampstead Heath station, Christmas bells are ringing – thin silver wind chimes, strung between the London planes. Lights appear from the west. Gusts, a chill, ghosts.