Transport

Feb 042013
 
Who's Going To Drive You Home Tonight?

Who’s Going To Drive You Home Tonight? by Jude Rogers
I feel snug in the back, so I ask him his name. “Reg. Pleased to meet you. And you?” I tell him and we talk about that song by the Beatles. We share details for a while, give each other pocket-sized versions of our life stories: his family in Wales, how long I’ve been in the city. Then I ask him how long he’s been out here. How long he’s had the badge. How long it’s been since he had his blue book. [read more…]

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Dec 072012
 

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.

Dec 042012
 
London City Airport

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…]

Nov 262012
 

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.