I'm hot, sweaty and wishing more than anything that the guy behind me would stop leaning against me breathing alcohol fumes in my face. Sadly there is no room to escape. I am crammed into a tube carriage, with my 60-litre, mud-covered backpack, dodging evil looks from commuters because I made the fatal faux pas of passing through central London at 8:30am on a Friday morning.
If you don't like motivation, you won't like my music, let's just put it that way. Also, if you like real life s**t you'll love my music. I talk about what's real, such as never having money and every day struggles of life and being oppressed by the oppressors! Basically I make middle finger music.
It's time for an adventure. Three months away from reality, work and looking after other peoples' lives... time to start looking after my own. While I'm using some inheritance money to kick me off, it won't be all five star hotels! I'm budgeting heavily, and enjoying reading travel blogs on how to see the world on a shoestring.
There were days when I'd seriously question why people chose to live in a city that ate me up and spat me out at the best of times, where simple tasks were a constant battle. But gradually that cold, grey capital drew me in and seduced me one day, one month, then one year at a time. I felt like London was the world and the world was at my fingertips.
This swapping back and forth between the horrific and the mundane or even jolly, is not uncharacteristic of common ways of ways coping with chronic trauma: the black humour of a doctors' mess, for example. Humour is known to be an effective coping strategy, associated with a lower risk of post traumatic stress disorder.
Dessa Rose is set in America's Deep South through the 1840s, telling the story of two young women who are on very different paths, that ultimately cross.
At Clapham Junction, the atmosphere was tense. The mobile phone shops had their grills down, the bar across the road was closed. Large groups of teenagers were hanging around, hoods up. Commuters hurried home, including me...
'Elasticity', as the internet was slow to realize, does not exist in any physical form, but only in the doctored photographs, video, and text which comprise Le Nézet's press release. As anyone who had commuted through Dalston Junction in the intervening time could have told you, there were no enormous concrete blocks hanging from the ceiling of that particular underground station.
At Secret Cinema (formerly Future Cinema) you watch a film, usually in an obscure location, whilst immersing yourself in the film's narrative. Back To The Future is staged on an ambitious scale in a brilliantly realised world: they've actually recreated Hill Valley - the town from the film.
The bikes are normally blue but this summer there's a limited number of yellow bikes to celebrate the Tour de France coming through London and as I arrived at the bicycle stand there was a special yellow bike among the blue bikes. I felt like Charlie finding the golden ticket in a chocolate bar and took it as a good sign.
First thing I have to say, is that the interior and branding is really wonderfully executed, with a very cool vibe, and going a different direction than many of the bubble tea stores. The light grey walls are accented by lovely shades of green, blue, pink and yellow.
To be honest, I never even really thought about my shirts. It's a shirt, it serves a purpose, which is to not show up at the office naked... If I liked the color and it fit, consider it bought... Of course it had to be comfortable too. But a pocket? Really?
As the Tour de France surges forward and the occasional pile-up is reported in the English news, so the domestic daily version of this annual gladiato...
While Facebook, WhatsApp, Viber and the like are locked in an arms race to help users send photos and videos with increasing speed (and discretion), one London based startup is looking to capture a more niche part of the chat market: sending money.
The ladies on the door of the lap dancing bar opposite my flat in Soho are all of a certain age. Their dress code is "smart casual" Top Shop, rather than the thigh-flashing micro skirts favoured by young East European girls in more up-market establishments, and they're all "real" women making a living, with a healthy sense of humour and cynicism.
"Hey, are you ok?" The sweat was pouring down my face and into my eyes. My oily summer visage had morphed into the face of a swamp creature. "Sure," I said, "I'm just really hot." Jenny furrowed her brow, so I added, "And I'm warm as well. Ha ha." But she did not laugh.