“Sorry to bother you,” he says, wandering across, “but I need 73p for the train.” He’s vague, oddly distant, but knows precisely what it takes to get out of Peckham.
Mar 052012
WORDS & IMAGES
Mar 042012
by Matt Haynes
There is, Doctor Johnson once observed, no more agreeable a place for an Englishman to unexpectedly find himself stuck than within the four sturdy walls of a well-kept public house: “Sir, give a man a pint of strong dark ale, an audience of keen-witted peers, and the promise of a plump and willing wench at the end of the evening, and a simple and profound contentment will be his.” [read more…]
Mar 032012
Urban Intervention No. 56
When boarding a bus, brighten the driver’s day by miming your destination, Give Us A Clue-style. Fellow passengers won’t mind – they’ll enjoy the fun of guessing too.
Mar 022012
… and those long summer evenings in Ladywell Fields.
[see more…]
Mar 012012
by Alexandra Lister
… through plumes
of cigarette smoke, the boy with the
anchor tattoo got drunk for the first time
and we looked up to see the early swallows come
in over London like tiny bombers…
[read more…]
Feb 292012
“See you tomorrow, love,” says the barmaid, blustering out into the E10 afternoon. He nods, Wetherspoons pie half-eaten, coat still buttoned against the cold he feels much more these days.
Feb 282012
“Simon Groom, Goldie and the Mayor of Greenwich leave their hand and paw prints in Woolwich town centre.” [read more…]
Feb 262012
as heard by Matt Haynes
Number 100 to… Shadwell. The next stop is… Pocock Street – oh, look, I really can’t be doing with all this. If you didn’t know what route I was or where I was going, why would you have got on? I mean, I’m contractually obliged to spout all this guff, but frankly it just insults us both. [read more…]
Feb 252012
THE WALTHAMSTOW TRIPOD
WHAT IS IT?
WHAT’S IT FOR?
WHO PUT IT THERE?
DO YOU THINK THE THING ON THE TOP MIGHT START FLASHING AFTER DARK?
[find out more…]
Feb 242012
From the top of the bright red climbing frame, the boy with the seventies afro eyes my camera suspiciously; his Staffy cross, paws wobbling on the narrow slats, does likewise.