The sky filled with golden tears raining down over St Pauls in wide rings, each one larger than the last, so that they seemed to be coming closer to us
I’m finding it very hard to believe that this time five years ago I was sat by the side of an Australian motorway, racked with worry over a stranger’s text saying that London had been bombed
On the bus five minutes later it was as if five hours had passed me by, presumably by knocking me over the head with a football and roaring until I passed out. It was the night bus during daylight hours.
London is not too busy. Slow cooking, slow dancing and slow thinking are all here.
What is the collective noun for a group of teenage friends at the back of a bus? A cackle of passengers? A cru? A shriek? A lurch? A holler?