Wood Wharf
Ah, that would explain the name…
[see more…]
Mar 202013
Sep 072012
Unreal City by Jude Rogers
So we went then, you and I, waiting for the rest of our lives to wake us from the winter. “Come,” I’d whispered on that white afternoon, as your train pulled away to the north and you still stood there on Silver Street’s empty platform, your cheeks iced and bright, your eyes warm, your arms wrapped tight around my ruby red coat. “Come and watch the spring begin with me.” [read more…]
Sep 052012
“Sorry, mate,” says the man on the footbridge, turning aside to let me cycle past. “Cheers,” I reply. He nods, tight-lipped, then continues urinating onto the Blackwall Tunnel Southern Approach.
Jul 082012
by Jess Sully
Burrell’s Wharf was once a dye factory. The smoke billowing out of the boiler chimney showed what colours were being made inside – that, and the workers’ skins at the end of the day, as they trudged out in shades of red or blue or aquamarine. I want to believe, as the heritage sign says, that pigeons with pink-tinted feathers once strutted on the rooftops round here, but I’m not sure I do. [read more…]
Jul 012012
Few people know that, should the Regent’s Canal ever get blocked, a large plunger is available for public use on the towpath just off Roman Road. Here, a local woman runs for assistance after spotting signs of backing up in Mile End Park. [see more…]
Jun 262012
by Matt Haynes
Man: Gee, hon, what is that thing?
Woman: What?
Man: That round thing.
[read more…]
Jun 152012
by Matt Haynes
The lorries are starting to move now, rumbling across the deck of the James Newman and onto the ramps that shake and ring beneath their tyres. He is supposed to leave too, supposed to climb the yellow metal steps from the passenger deck to the red metal gates that always remind him of Meccano. There is an announcement over the tannoy, every time a ferry docks, forbidding passengers to remain on board. [read more…]
May 302012
I had a bit of Nadine Dorries moment at the Cutty Sark last week while looking at a display of ships’ figureheads; for George Osborne, it seems, has cocked a snook at all this trendy defogeyfication and had himself immortalised not simply on canvas, but large-as-life in carved and brightly painted wood. [read more…]
May 282012
by Jude Rogers
On the way to Ferry Lane, you find a car park outside the industrial estate. Blue, red, white, silver, gun gold. Two teenagers are in the front seat of a Hyundai Sonata, kissing. They break off; the girl bites his ear just below the earring. The boy laughs, brushing steam off the windscreen. [read more…]
Mar 092012
“Is the flood returning?” says the board outside Herne Hill United Church; but drivers descending to the plain below won’t be saved, for the temptations of Camberwell Green are many.