Category: Essays

Right then, picture this if you will. You walk into that massive open plan floor at the bank on a…

was halfway down Mare Street the other evening with a half eaten packet of crisps in one hand and my…

Iwas sat on the 55 bus the other morning, half watching the rain streak down the window and half wondering…

Right, so picture this. I rock up to the bank every morning in East London, coffee in hand, and the…

Right, so picture this. I’m stood in the Tesco Express on Mare Street last Tuesday, just after a proper long…

Right, so picture this. I’m sat here in my baggy hoodie after a proper long day of chasing numbers at…

The night is one story. Breakfast is another. I walk home rewriting what I wanted, what I allowed, and what I will admit to my friends.

Some mornings the tube from Hackney feels like it is delivering me straight into a circus tent rather than a…

There is something properly magical about the way a Sunday morning in Hackney can feel like pure chaos one minute…

I like being thrown about when I have chosen it. Intensity without attention is just sloppy. I want filthy and looked after in the same hour.