A rubbish heap in which a Ukrainian nuclear fireman finds romance with Willie Nelson.
William, patron saint of hatters and well-hatted bohemians? Photographs of the crowd at the Blake Society’s unveiling of a new memorial on Bunhill Fields.
If tears could build a stairway / And memories a lane, / We’d walk right up to heaven / And bring you home again.
“‘Tis glorious misery to be born a man,” generally taken to refer to a hen-pecked husband, is in fact a misquotation of verse by the 17th century Romford and London poet, Francis Quarles, dealing with human mortality.
Iain Sinclair wrote of when “global warming rolls a warm sea [up] the course of the old Hackney Brook.” The flow’s going to be the other way. Let me explain.
The British-Jewish detective who hung the German murderer of a London banker. With photos of his tombstone in Winchester’s West Hill cemetery.