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.
Dec 162013
Filed by Subject
Dec 122013
Fog, Greenwich Park, December 2013 by Matt Haynes
Photos of Greenwich, the City and the Isle of Dogs taken from outside Greenwich Observatory through winter fog. [see more…]
Dec 092013
Urban Intervention No. 23
With old-fashioned zebra crossings now an endangered species, why not thank courteous drivers by offering a friendly handshake through the passenger window as you cross?
Dec 042013
Boris Johnson vs Dean Cox by Matt Haynes
Coffee in Meze Patisserie, Church Lane, Leytonstone. Don’t seem to have room for more than one baklava; heart’s too much of a mouthful. [read more…]
Dec 022013
Please Do Not Touch The Walrus No. 7
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: climbing on the horse in Spring Gardens. [see more…]
Nov 282013
Again he thuds into Percy Ingle’s window; she sighs, scoops him up, tosses him back into Lewisham High Street, and tidies the London cheesecakes; tiny pigeon footsteps dent coconut strands.
Nov 252013
by Matt Haynes
In the grass are, unmistakably, the ghosts of abandoned roads: cracked tarmac and kerbstones, carless and homeless, fading to brown and green. And here’s the thing: if you look in an old A-Z – one from the sixties, say – Burgess Park isn’t there. But those spectral streets are; and they have names, and purpose, and they’re drawn in hard black ink. There’s also a line of turquoise, running dead straight between them. [read more…]
Nov 212013
by Jess Sully
I waltz with a Spiders-From-Mars-era Bowie who only falls over once on his stack heels; at the end of the song we bow to each other solemnly, then I race onward to dance arm-in-arm with men, women, a giraffe. “Let’s get wasted on rum and ginger!” Slipping on the beer-sodden floor, clambering straight back up, tights subtly laddered. By a mysterious osmosis, we end up at the front at the same time, waving our white sunhats in the air with joy. [read more…]
Nov 182013
Nov 142013
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…]