Richard of Devizes wrote in 1177:

I do not like the city at all. All sorts of men crowd there from every country…each brings its own vices and customs. None lives in it without falling into some sort of crime. Every quater abounds in grave obscenities. The greater the rascal, the greater man he is accounted…Do not associate with the crowd of pimps: do not mingle with the throng in eating houses: avoid dice and gambling, the theatre and the tavern…the number of parasites is infinite. Actors, jesters, smooth-skinned lads, moors flatterers, pretty-boys, effeminates, paederasts, singing and dancing girls, quacks, belly-dancers, sorceresses, extortioners, night-wanderers, magicians, mimes, beggars and buffoons…if you do not want to dwell with evil-livers, do not live in London. (A Thousand Years of Vice in the Capital: London The Wicked City, Fergus Linnane)

What strikes me about this observation is that nothing has changed. People still complain about foreigners and parents are afraid to let their youngsters loose in the lion’s den that is London. Sin and debauchery populate the city and to remain uncorrupted by the great Lion one has to be steadfast in one’s moral convictions: so it is thought. As I, in the year 2010, ponder the considerations of Richard of Devizes, 800+ years after the English chronicler wrote about London, a smurk appears on my face. In my mind, the very things that make the city of London deplorable to so many are what make it the fabulous, charming city that it is – from the haphazard grunge of Camden Town to the grandiose beauty of Westminster and the frenzied energy of central London. All of the aforementioned places have their own uniquely bewitching allure. (more…)

So what’s up with bicyclists who don’t wear helmets? I understand that cranial protective gear may look a tad brain-like and will thus compromise any attempt at a fashion statement – of course splattered brains mixed with some gravel always goes well with American Apparel. Many people just aren’t willing to sacrifice their dignity to ensure the confinement of brain matter. (more…)

Who would have thought that a blue balloon was so multifunctional? This is a discovery I made one hot Saturday afternoon whilst walking along Oxford Street. It was on this hot Saturday that I was reminded, for at least five consecutive hours, why I grew up with two brothers: to train me for my husband.

An invaluable lesson I learned as a child is the principle of annoyance: the greater the reaction of the annoyee, the more fun is had by the annoyer. The converse is also true: the smaller the reaction of the annoyee, the less fun is had by the annoyer. The annoyer relies on a significant reaction for the annoyee’s response to qualify as annoyance. If the annoyee is nonchalant (even if feigned), annoyance is not achieved and the annoyer is thus rendered unsuccessful. I have applied this principle for many years and it is one of the cornerstones of my role as a sister. (more…)

The clouds part, the angels chorus, a singly ray of sunlight beams down from the sky and the earth stops moving. The second coming you might think. Not yet. It’s Schuh on Oxford Street. This is what happens upon my first encounter with the heavenly shoe shop. Imagine having every single beautiful shoe ever made at your immediate disposal – Dr Martens of every size, shape and colour, the magnificent platforms of T.U.K, and a multitude of heels that the Harajuku girls on the streets of Tokyo would break necks to stake their claim to. Of course, the grey English sky returns and the angels’ chorus fades into the distance as I gradually become aware that the shoes are only at my disposal if I can cough up the cost. (more…)

As I queue outside South Africa House awaiting my turn to vote, my gaze falls upon Nelson’s Column and the proud Trafalgar lions, and I am forced to take cognisance of the moment’s significance. The magnificence of the great British Empire is made tangible by her symbols of might and power that rest just beyond my vision – Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, the Houses of Parliament. Amidst this grandeur I wait to perform the seemingly menial task of placing a mark on a paper. Yet a collection of these marks will determine the future of a nation. A nation previously choked by the colonial rule of the very empire under whose authority I presently exist. (more…)

2009 is the year England celebrates the 500th anniversary of Henry VIII’s accession to the throne. A host of special events will be held in and around London to explore the King’s life and reign. The Tower of London is gearing for the launch of its Henry VIII: Dressed to kill exhibition, which profiles Henry’s role as warrior, sportsman and king. The display features some of the world’s rarest arms and armour, selected from the treasures of the Royal Armouries and international collections. Forget the glamour and romanticism of Jonathan Rhys-Myers in The Tudors – although Henry has been described as “handsome and fit” in his youth, the immense King stood 6 feet 4 and weighed about 200 pounds in his prime. Henry fell of a horse in 1536 – the year he ordered the beheading of his second wife Anne Boleyn (poetic justice is a beautiful thing) – and damaged his leg, which never healed properly. Henry was unable to exercise and packed on the kilos at a rapid rate. The size of his armour grew to the size of his infamous temper. (more…)

I have two favourite places in South Kensington – one of them is called Snog. No, not saliva swapping, but a far superior orgasmic experience. Snog is a café serving fat-free frozen yoghurt made with organic dairy ingredients, found just around the corner from South Ken tube station at 32 Thurloe Place. The outlet is fun and funky with lumo-pink and white as the decor colour combo and a blue sky (ceiling) with fluffy white clouds that move. Seriously, the clouds really do move! Snog frozen yoghurt comes in three different flavours: there is the Natural Snog for those with a penchant for a honey aftertaste, a Chocolate Snog for the decadent and daring and a Green Tea Snog to get rid of all those oxidants. Snogs come in three different sizes: small – for a quicky, medium – to satisfy the craving and large – to indulge. (more…)

If anything is going to bring out the animal in me it’s the damn 259. Everyday I catch a bus to and from work. Sounds simple. It isn’t. When my bus arrives at the bus stop outside Kings Cross Station, there is a mass charge for the door, which reminds me of the Great Wildebeest Migration on the African plains. Those massive herds charging for that narrow river crossing. What happens? The weaker of the species are crushed by the brutes who will stop at nothing to reach the other side of the river. It’s called survival of the fittest.

People are like Wildebeest – as they migrate from the pavement to the bus door, the fight for survival is on. Stamping and snorting, they push and shove to ensure themselves a space on the bus. (more…)

Owing to POPULAR DEMAND I have compiled an essential guide to the understanding and identification of the Goth. This is useful when on a Camden safari or on the streets of Berlin. (more…)

Equation: London + Magic + Nightwish/In Flames/Deathstars = Dreams = Madness. Translation: “the capital of both England and the United Kingdom, and the most populous municipality in the European Union. An important settlement for two millennia” and place where bands like to tour plus Stanely Kubrick’s definition of screen magic likened to the magic felt at a live performance, which “has such power that it can retain interest as it conveys emotions and moods that no other art form can hope to tackle” plus

equals the realisation of “something that you want to happen very much but that is not very likely” and “hopes and ideas which are not practical or realistic” equals “unrestrained excitement or enthusiasm”. Confusing Perhaps? I’ll simplify. This is LIFE. Some of us need to move half way across the world to live our dreams. That’s what LIVING is about – realising dreams, whatever they may be. (more…)