It’s only with hindsight that I realise what a ‘playground‘ London was for me from the mid-eighties (when becoming old enough to do as I pleased) to the late nineties; when changes started running so deep they were impossible to miss and/or ignore.
“I could be a writer with a growing reputation; I could be the ticket man at Fulham Broadway Station. What a waste . . . What a waste.”
I used to walk past that ticket man made famous by Ian Dury’s lyrics on regular occasion. Going to and from Chelsea matches at Stamford Bridge. It was always a man, as I remember. Not that I paid too much attention.
Except for one particular Wednesday night game against Continue reading
We all know someone who posts them, but never do it ourselves . . . Continue reading
Reflections on the Thames from an early 90s London Bridge.