Everything has a warning sign.
The night-time tube takes on an amusing dimension when one realises just how riddiculous an obsession with safety and information England has developed. You can open the doors of the Paris metro before it stops, the closing Tube doors give a decent impression of the pre-launch warning of an Arianne 5 heading into high orbit...
In fact, Im sure being a french rocket, it has less warning notices than the doors of a London Tube.
The most pointlessly amusing notice would have to be the sticker announcing that the window should be opened for ventilation... as though anyone capable of reading the notice would ever be in a position to need the information it was announcing.
Happiness Forgets.
It gets help from a good dry gin martini.
An east london basement bar. Dark. Stripped brick walls, candlelight and a great top shelf.
A cousin and an old friend from another life.
Another goodbye moment.
Buses across town in the drizzling dark.
The bus to Brixton.
The village markets.
1 pound tacos and a beer wandering the bustling lanes of food.
round one of market Tapas, Carribean cod-fish balls and a burger.
Light and sound and Motion
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