by Matt Haynes
Although ostensibly a celebration of rampant free-market capitalism, Monopoly stifles those very instincts that should engender success by insisting council planning departments impose draconian building regulations that allow for the construction of nothing but small green houses or big red hotels; you don’t get the chance to open, say, a department store or computer showroom, or to have a small parade of bakers, greengrocers and shoe repairers. [read more…]
On a brisk Sunday morning a gentleman in a long velvet morning coat and top hat rides a tiny pink-painted bicycle through the gutter on Lower Clapton Road.
by Rhuar Dean
Charles leant forwards, hands clasped between us on the table, brittle gold-rimmed spectacles resting on his wide nose. “This airport,” he said, “is not like other airports. In other airports, people are going on holiday, they’re excited. There’s a buzz. The bar is always full. There are always some Irish to drink with.” He leant forwards again, his grey hair a fuzz of pale smoke. “Here, the only people drinking are fucking wankers.” [read more…]
by Wolf Orff
Gary Geistler knew he was probably sane. But who in their right mind would turn out for a poetry gig in Mortlake on a bitter Thursday evening in late January? He’d been promised a third of the door money. He’d be lucky if it stretched to a large glass of Chardonnay. [read more…]
At Clapham North he pulls a knob of root ginger from his bag and, with eyes cast down, rubs its surface tenderly; perhaps, I think, it’s his lucky magic ginger.
by James Hunt
In one hundred and four days I will be forty years old. Tonight, I am standing in a hall in north London with my arm around someone, pretending to be happy. Meanwhile, across town in Kilburn… is the one I really want to be with, again.
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Penny-Farthing, Lee Navigation Canal towpath, November 2012
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Number One
OSIDGE
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by Elisabeth Blanchet
The Excalibur Estate in Catford is Britain’s largest surviving post-war prefab estate. The 186 pre-fabricated homes were built by Italian and German prisoners of war in 1945/46 to house returning servicemen and their families, part of larger project which saw 160,000 prefabs erected across the UK. [see slideshow of images and read more…]
It is very early on a Sunday morning in June and today promises to be every bit as scorching as yesterday. The street is deserted. Your ears ring, your eyes sting, your mouth tastes like a small bat has curled up and died in it. You’re wearing black leather, PVC, crushed velvet and heavy, oily make-up. You’re going home. [read more…]