I am tired of walking in the city. Of dodging traffic, heaving my son’s pushchair up high kerbs, swerving through crowds at bus stops. The late cold of winter and the non arrival of spring have left me feeling desperate for something greenerRead More
Yesterday, despite the chill, I swam off the beach, wading into the icy waves with a stranger’s poodle at my heals. I shiver just thinking about it, but cannot escape the calm, collected feeling that has been with me in the 24 hours since.Read More
Stepping through the reopened arch of Victoria station and into the Baltic chill of London in early February, I feel an immediate swirl of vertigo. New shards of glass and chrome make the temporary bus station feel Lilliputian. I have struggled for years with the idea of this part of the city being anything other than run down and seedy. This is the final stage of its conversion.Read More
It is the most London of days. Rain cascades down the glass roof of the coffee shop as I pull on my coat and head for the door. Outside, Wardour Street is a fast flowing stream, cars racing carelessly against its flow. We stand inside the doorway, waiting for a break that won’t come and step outside, saying muffled goodbyes from deep within hoods.Read More
This week, having just finished Charles Dickens’ collection of essays on walking, I am operating on his maxim that, “even my idlest walk must always have its appointed destination.” Today I am heading for my parents’ flat in Hove.Read More
I turn my back on the sea and walk inland. It is two years since I made Brighton my home. Since then I have cleaved to the water, low when I leave it, lighter when it is within view. I have swum in it in every season, its salt a balm for my soul. Its proximity imbues me with a restfulness.Read More
Every January, I meet two friends for brunch on the first working day back after Christmas. It is our way of showing that as freelancers that we have control. It’s also a tacit admission that none of us have any work on.
As in 2017, we meet near Old Street tube station. I have travelled up from Brighton, late after a train ride which pushed the buttons of my travel anxiety. After draining coffee and eating quickly, we soon find ourselves walking towards Moorgate. I have resolved that once we part that I will undertake my first aimless wander of 2018, the first in this year long project.Read More
There have been fleeting moments over the past six months when I have wanted to travel and I have wanted to write. But neither have been possible. And with good reason.
I am the father to a six month old boy. In the hours when I have not been hacking out articles quickly in a bid to cover bills, all I have wanted to do is spend time with him and my partner, marvelling at new skills learned. A roll onto the tummy here. A foot in a mouth there. A giggle while getting ready for bed. I have found joy and overwhelming happiness in what many looking from the outside in would perhaps consider mundane.Read More