Fire Hazard Games’ new Evasion game will have you solving puzzles, defusing bombs and evading the clutches of undercover agents. (Basically, it’s one of those escape-the-room games but outside and on drugs. Bring your fake moustache.)
Our time in Islington ended last week, so before Christmas Mike and I went for dinner at The Booking Office at the recently renovated St Pancras Renaissance London Hotel at King’s Cross. (Yes, I know it’s technically Camden, but it’s only a mile from our old flat.) When it opened, my old boss took his then-girlfriend […]
I’m not a huge fan of Christmas. I’m really not. I’ve tried, and there are lots of elements I like – namely the pigs in blankets and goodwill to all men – but the saccharine, schmaltzy side isn’t for me. What I really like is the cosiness of it all – the smell of real pine […]
It’s amazing how you can live in London for absolutely bloody ages and think you know about every cool thing going, and then, out of nowhere, you find out there’s an ice climbing wall hiding in Covent Garden, or a flying trapeze school in Hyde Park. Or a glassblowing studio in London Bridge.
The weather is finally on the turn and I’m very excited.
“I bet the blokes who work here get laid a lot,” muttered Carla behind me, as we clambered up the very steep steps of Mr Fogg’s Gin Parlour.
Everyone loves going to the movies, but these days a trip to the local Odeon is a pretty mundane affair. (And bloody expensive, too. Seven quid for bag of Minstrels? You’re ‘aving a larf!) Fortunately, Backyard Cinema is here to save the magic of cinema from disappearing forever.
By now you’ll have heard of Gingerline, the maverick supperclub that pops up at secret locations along the East London Overground.
Mike and I are currently in the process of buying a house in East London that was last decorated in the late 1970s. The bathroom fittings are pale peach, the floors are lined with the carpet equivalent of a terrible migraine, and the wallpaper is so bad, it’s almost good. Almost. The previous owner, an […]
Mike and I have a system: I cook, and he washes up. It works extremely well – I hate cleaning, and Mike can’t even chop an onion without a) nearly lopping a finger off and b) bursting into tears. (Sensitive eyes, apparently.)
