“Sorry to bother you,” he says, wandering across, “but I need 73p for the train.” He’s vague, oddly distant, but knows precisely what it takes to get out of Peckham.
Mar 052012
Mar 042012
by Matt Haynes
There is, Doctor Johnson once observed, no more agreeable a place for an Englishman to unexpectedly find himself stuck than within the four sturdy walls of a well-kept public house: “Sir, give a man a pint of strong dark ale, an audience of keen-witted peers, and the promise of a plump and willing wench at the end of the evening, and a simple and profound contentment will be his.” [read more…]
Feb 292012
“See you tomorrow, love,” says the barmaid, blustering out into the E10 afternoon. He nods, Wetherspoons pie half-eaten, coat still buttoned against the cold he feels much more these days.
Feb 262012
as heard by Matt Haynes
Number 100 to… Shadwell. The next stop is… Pocock Street – oh, look, I really can’t be doing with all this. If you didn’t know what route I was or where I was going, why would you have got on? I mean, I’m contractually obliged to spout all this guff, but frankly it just insults us both. [read more…]
Feb 252012
THE WALTHAMSTOW TRIPOD
WHAT IS IT?
WHAT’S IT FOR?
WHO PUT IT THERE?
DO YOU THINK THE THING ON THE TOP MIGHT START FLASHING AFTER DARK?
[find out more…]
Feb 242012
From the top of the bright red climbing frame, the boy with the seventies afro eyes my camera suspiciously; his Staffy cross, paws wobbling on the narrow slats, does likewise.
Feb 212012
The Helmsman, Pimlico Gardens
I don’t know how many of you were part of the New York leather scene at the tail end of the ’70s but, in the bars around Christopher Street, there were really only ever two topics of conversation: were the Village People cynical frauds helping to perpetuate offensive gay stereotypes, albeit with great tunes; and should you, when suddenly called upon to pilot a small boat through uncertain waters, strip off completely or leave your cap on? [read more…]
Feb 192012
Cab-less and bewildered in Vauxhall’s afternoon heat, the micro-skirted blondes tottering up Newport Street – snazzy holdalls sagging on spaghetti-strapped shoulders – cast a ten-legged silhouette on the railway arches’ dusty brick.
Feb 152012
THE CLAPTON STICKS
WHAT ARE THEY?
WHO PUT THEM THERE?
WHAT ARE THEY FOR?
ARE THEY JUST BROWN… AND STICKY…?
[find out here…]
Feb 102012
Following the discovery of the body of a baby elephant by railway tracks near Wimbledon Common, police say they’re looking for a short, hirsute, elderly gentleman…
[read more…]