Some years are defined by a hot summer holiday. You know the kind I mean; a holiday that you wait all year for because you genuinely believe you have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and seeking out sunshine will miraculously cure your blues (HAPPY).
As a lifelong Arsenal fan, I was obviously going to jump at the chance of free corporate hospitality tickets to the Emirates Stadium (thanks, Dad). We’re not just talking club level; we’re talking our own private box of nine people, owned by my Dad’s company. Even better; my Dad had …
Discovering a new author is like that moment of realising that someone who you thought was just an acquaintance might actually become a huge part of your life: you’ve got more in common than you previously thought. You rebuke yourself with the obvious question: “Why didn’t I see it before?”
Proud Galleries is one of the most unique venues in London.
In my industry, it’s very easy to feel like you’re in disguise. I have unlikely aliases, pen names and have done my fair share of ghost writing. Nobody sees a writer when they read their words. That’s why I find a blank piece of paper such a liberating space – …
My commute home is generally spent trying to ignore other commuters. I adopt a comatose and defensive stance: arms folded, massive earphones blocking out the sound, eyes happily closed. If someone nudges me, I nudge them back. You have to be very territorial on the Underground.