The whiteboard at Southgate station says services are normal on all lines except the Central; on the Central, it says, they are good.
A Short Journey Downriver by Mark Sadler
Twice a day, when the tide is high, the Thames floods the broad, low-ceilinged underground channel from which the Granville emerges. During the autumn and winter, as the temperature drops, these back surges create localised fogs that linger along Upper and Lower Thames Street. The river that London buried alive rises like a ghost through the porous layers of paving to reassert its claim upon its former overground course. [read more...]
The Ladies’ Pond
by Alison Marr
The swimming ladies of the Highgate pond are various.
Some are old and lean with hard thin arms breaking November ice,
Others are buxom with low slung breasts shifting as they move.
by Matt Haynes
Hedonism, of course, was the name of the game, and pretty much anything went. One night, Boy George nearly brought Duran Duran’s career to a premature end when, clutching a garish mojito, he hurtled down the slope using Simon le Bon as a toboggan; luckily for the course of popular music, the chubby Brummie took it in his pantalooned stride. [read more...]
Beneath Banham by David Slater
Soon such a reputation surrounded Upper Banham that many began to prefer the longer walk to Manor House or the Number 29 to get them to town. A few weeks later, another commuter rushed, screaming, out of nowhere and into a group of late-night revellers. She remembered nothing and the authorities insisted she had been the victim of a fit, but after that only the brave, foolish or ignorant went near the place. [read more...]
by Gary Budden
The fourth and final image is simpler, easier to interpret. It gives Andrew more hope than the previous pictures. A solitary young girl clutching a balloon with the spriggan’s face its decoration stands smiling with genuine joy. In the background, the Olympic Park is consumed by hungry flames as tattooed looters ransack a shopping centre. [read more...]
The Twelve Days of Smoke
On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me…
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 Andrzej Ryan
There is a bearded man in a pink dress behind me. He’s swigging lemonade from a two-litre bottle. For almost the entire year, the City of London is home to thousands of dark suits. Today, it belongs to flowing fabrics and shiny buttons. Today is the Pearly Kings and Queens’ Harvest Festival. [read more...]
Please Do Not Touch The Walrus No. 6
A fantastic new series in which we attempt to catalogue some of the amazing things you can’t do in our fabulous capital city. Today: hanging about aimlessly in Tottenham. [see more...]