Central

Feb 052012
 
The Magic Open-Top Number 11

by Jamie Mitchinson
I’m crossing the road near Liverpool Street. My senses feel oddly heightened, though I’m not sure why. And, even so, I nearly miss it. Or, to put it another way, it nearly hits me. So practised am I at spotting the shape of my habitual single decker that when the open-top number 11 comes, I blank it out. [read more…]

Feb 022012
 
Our Day Out

by Melissa Davidson
We boarded the train for Euston, you and your dad and me. We played I Spy and you giggled when I said fart. We disembarked and made our way to the Eye. Both wearing red, we bundled up brightly against the grey sky, cheeks the colour of our jackets. [read more…]

Jan 292012
 
Pigeons in Puddles No. 5


No. 5 Russell Square
Was it not Lucian of Samosata who, in 170AD, wrote of being lifted up by a giant waterspout and deposited on the moon where a battle was raging between armies of acorn dogs and cloud centaurs? Sometimes, it’s not hard to guess what’s going through their little pigeon brains… [see more…]

Jan 172012
 

The cat in the red plastic box stares resentfully through the bars as if to say “beneath the table of a Drury Lane cafe is no place for a Persian Blue.”