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WELCoME To

the issue s

aturday night. 7pm. from Peter: “Willy Mason is playing at my friend’s house in Herne Hill, 8pm. There’s 20 people here.” We flew across London. Down the escalator at King’s Cross, pushing the tourists from the left of the escalator to the right, tossing some coins towards the busker and then basking in the luxury of the new Victoria line trains. five stops, we’ll be there in ten minutes. Sit, counting down the seconds at each stop before charging back up the escalators, through the barriers at Victoria. 19 platforms all leading south – we chose the orpington train. A buggy with balloons, a party of girls, matey looking coked up outside the bog. “This is the 1940 service to orpington calling at Brixton, Herne Hill...” We’re on the right track – nine minutes. The house is close, we’ve got time for a pit stop bottle of red, everyone’s drinking the Montepulciano (£5 off in Sainsbury’s). We walk into a hushed house as a guy finishes his set. We’re in time. We relax and chat. A girl sits down, she’s got a gorgeous guitar. “This is Nina,” says our host. Nina plays the guitar like Jeff Buckley, her Massachusetts voice sparkles through. We buy a CD. She was stunning. Willy Mason too. A Saturday night to remember... Secret London works. Ed. x

autumn 2011

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Editor Sam Lassman Watts (sam@theothersidemag.co.uk) A rt Director Nathan May (nathan@theothersidemag.co.uk) Sub Editor Joe Bridal (joe@theothersidemag.co.uk) Editorial Adam Richmond (adam@theothersidemag.co.uk) Fashion Brenna Duncan (brenna@theothersidemag.co.uk) Music Méabh Ritchie (meabh@theothersidemag.co.uk) Dan Moss (dan@theothersidemag.co.uk) Contributing Writers Chloe George, Zoe Dawes, Sara Mccorquodale, Greg Nay, Dan Moss, Edward Valand, Robin Raven, Cara Waters, Nathan Eaton Contributing A rtists Rebecca Hall, Robbie Porter, Vincenzo Robino, Tobias Pearce Front Cover P hoto Kiera Jolly, {Lomo LC-A+ camera from Lomography} © No reprinting of anything without our permission Printed by Europrint

the other side

CoNTENTS

SEVEN SToPS

SEARCH TERMS

BRoMANCE

GETTING HITCHED

CITY CEREMoNY

ANIMAL INSTINCT

BE SKY THINKING

THE SECRET SECTIoN

DRINKING

MUSIC

fILM

INDIE CINEMAS

SQUATTING

SECRET GARDENS

Loo LIfE

RETAIL THERAPY

fASHIoN

CYCLING

fooD

TRAVEL

PoETRY

A TWEET WITH...

autumn 2011

golders green hampstead finchley yoad & frognal

west hampstead

2.8 Hours Later Secret location, 27-29 oct, £28 Ever wondered what it would be like to be on the run from zombies? Now you can. find your way around town checking in at various locations and listening to survivor stories on your way – but make sure you don’t get caught by the roaming zombies. Make it to the resistance HQ where the uninfected will be allowed in. The game lasts 2.8 hours and will be followed by a zombie disco. 2.8hourslater.com

chalk farm

swiss cottage st. john’s wood

edgware road marylebone

baker street

great portland street

paddington regent’s park

bayswater marble arch

notting hill gate shepherd’s bush kensington ( olympia )

3. Postmodernism at the V&A South Kensington, 29-30 oct, £12.50

hyde park corner

knightsbrigde

2. RCA Secrets South Kensington, 18-26 Nov, free RCA Secrets is a unique exhibition of original postcard-sized art, made by professional artists, plus current postgraduate students at the Royal College of Art. The postcards are displayed anonymously and are signed on the reverse, so that the artist remains a secret until after the cards are purchased. Each postcard costs £45 to buy. Artists this year include Tracy Emin, Nick Park, David Bailey and Yoko ono.

high street kensington

3 earl’s court

south kensington

sloane square

warren street

oxford circus

green park piccadilly circus st. james’s park

victoria

pimlico

vauxhall

We’re all subjected to postmodernism every day, whether we understand it or not. If you want to explore what it really means, then the V&A this autumn is the perfect place. ‘Postmodernism: Style and Subversion 19701990’ is on until January 15. on 29 and 30 october you can immerse yourself in postmodern excess. Listen to live music, watch film screenings clapham common and take part in practical sessions, debate, talks and much more.

highgate

7. Chatsworth Road Market Homerton station, Sundays 11am - 4pm

archway hampstead heath arsenal

kentish town

kentish town west

Chatsworth Road Market is Lower Clapton’s answer to Broadway Market in London fields. 30 stalls selling various items from food to vintage clothing and homeware. A good percentage of locally sourced products can be found. Follow @chatsworthroad on Twitter

holloway road

camden town king’s cross st. pancras

caledonian road & barnsbury

highbury & islington

dalston kingsland

farringdon barbican

hoxton

old street liverpool street

russel square

tottenham court road

bethnal green shoreditch

6 aldgate east

st. paul’s

covent garden

bank

aldgate

leicester square

shadwell

london bridge

embankment

bermondsey

waterloo

southwark

elephant & castle kennington

brixton

borough

hackney wick

dalston junction

angel euston square

whitechapel

6. Experimental Food Society exhibition The Truman Brewery, Brick Lane. 21-22 oct A culinary exhibition, where the art is edible. The two day event boasts butter sculptors, food magicians, cake artists and jellymongers. Entry to the exhibition is £5.

experimentalfoodsociety.com

5. London Restaurant Festival Waterloo, 3-17 oct A city-wide celebration of eating out. The London Restaurant festival will not only have great offers but also special events running alongside them. A quiz, a restaurant tour on a routemaster, a big food debate and a market on the concourse of Waterloo station. londonrestaurantfestival.com

4. Factory Floor at the ICA Piccadilly Circus, 15 oct, free factory floor have emerged as a potent live force in contemporary British music. Based in a studio in a former sweat shop in North London, the trio of Gabe Gurnsey, Dominic Butler and Nik Void construct a new form that builds on the pioneering rhythms of early industrial groups, the heavier end of techno. factory floor & friends will be playing records alongside informal screening of film work under the title Solid Sound.

search terms

Be careful what you ‘Google’ for Adam Richmond tries to explain his drop-down menu

Google’s a friendly helpful bugger. Not only does it do that drop-down menu of search suggestions, it will also do a drop-down menu of searches that you have previously made. Lovely stuff. Unless, for example, and this is out of the clear blue sky, after a violent and tumultuous bout of botty rot spraying your pristine bog, you break down into tears – and I mean proper, chest heaving, deep breathing crying like you haven’t since that dark period when you lost your job and your girlfriend left you – because life seems so useless and futile and filled with emptiness. All out of the blue and somewhat worrisome. What if this is an extra symptom of some foul disease. Is the botty rot and the crying connected? Who better to ask than Google…? Well, incidentally, Google has no help for that particular question (which is one reason why I am writing this, if only to get the tags online so if any other poor sap out there who can’t stop pooing and then cries will get a useful Google hit).

Which is fine. I mean, if anything it might have been worse if you get Google hits like “looks like cancer” or “say hello to colostomy bags”. So all well and good… Until that is, days later, you start to Google anything with “D” and what does the pesky sodding search engine remind you of, but that pesky little search you did days before… Does diarrhea make you cry? There it is. Forever (well, until you delete your cookies). People worry about Google and Facebook keeping track of our every move, storing our data, but what if they’re keeping track of every key stroke? Am I going to be bombarded by pop-up ads for Immodium now? Or antidepressants? I don’t so mind my ‘data’ being used to target me, but now Google knows something about me I’d rather it didn’t. Never mind that clown porn I chased down one rainy afternoon, I can easily explain that away as a joke. But this? That tempting blank little search bar welcomes you to ask it anything. Teasing you.

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Anything. Winking at you. Glinting. Nothing but possibility lies beyond. All you need do is type and you can find the answer to anything. And so you ask away. But maybe don’t because who knows what it will remember. Who knows how it will use it against you. Do you really want Google to know your deepest, darkest secrets? And since when did Google become the bloody Oracle? Not only has it killed every pub argument stone dead (I’ll just Google that, yeh?), but the stock we put in its opinions are completely unfounded. All it does is shit out millions of links. A million ‘it could be this you’re after, but then again, maybe not’. Useless. Everyone clicks on the Wikipedia link anyway. I’m surprised we don’t cut out the middle man and deny Google the chance to know the stupid questions that flit through our minds (“Is it cock a snoop, or cock a snook?’).

that tempting blank little search bar welcomes you to ask it anything. teasing you As for crying after non-stop shitting, while I am worried about the lowdown state I must have been, I’m more worried that when, say my dad dies, I won’t cry that much. And what will that say about me? Cry at your dad’s funeral? Sure… but not quite as much as when I had a runny tummy.

BROMANCE

A heartbroken man is nothing new. Contrary to popular Aniston-referencing culture, it’s not just us girls getting dumped for someone more exciting. But unlike the fairer sex, I’ve yet to meet a man who gets tanked on Chardonnay and howls along to Lisa Loeb. Male heartbreak is a more timid beast – less willing to get confrontational, not so vocal and easier to silence with beer.

and Tyson steered him through the hard times. When we met, he began his courtship with a mix-tape opening on the band’s most famous song “Nothing to You”. The lyrics “because I’m gay as a choirboy for you” feature. On the night of said gig in Shoreditch Square, he was pumped to yowl and shout along with every word – accompanied by 300 other boys with the same idea. The gig was rammed.

wouldn’t commit. Meanwhile, the Black Keys recently vowed their next girl would bare no likeness to their ex girl, an implied benefit. And Frightened Rabbit said it takes more than fucking someone you don’t know to keep warm. It’s the screw-you brand of pop, a bolster for the bruised ego. It kicks heartbreak favourites like “Boy Done Wrong Again” by Belle and Sebastian in the

Tickets had sold out at speed and the place was full of men ready to vent. There were heads being thrown back with vigour. Words felt and echoed. A very sweaty encore and an exhilarated departing audience. Perhaps this genre of masculine heartbreak music has been around in the past few years giving that devil woman hell, but under the radar. Less commercial than James Blunt. Most obviously, Mr Brightside by The Killers kicked off its 21st century outing. Kings of Leon – pre-Sex On Fire – also jumped in, releasing the frustrated Charmer, a dirty tune bemoaning a pricktease who

nuts and says, ‘her loss, playa’. It rough-houses every song ever written by Ryan Adams and demands perspective. If “Yes” by McAlmont and Butler was to get into a fight with “The Scientist” by Coldplay, the latter would go home with a bloody nose. If us girls can have “Caught Out There” by Kelis, the boys deserve something more cathartic than “Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want” by The Smiths. Masculine heartbreak music, I’m hopping on your bandwagon. You’ve got soul. You’ve got venom. You’ve got a dirty bass. And regardless of gender, that is one infectious combination.

The blues brothers Sara McCorquodale explores the murky waters collected from that most rare of all things, the ‘man-tear’ Adam Stephens from Two Gallants >

He sits at home shell-shocked by abandonment and listening to For Emma, Forever Ago before facing the world with a stubbly chin and a creased shirt. Or so I thought. My idea of male heartbreak got flipped in July at a Two Gallants gig at Shoreditch Bar and Grill. A twoman outfit from San Francisco, they specialise in furious bitching at exes combined with a good five minute wail at the end of each song. Not a quivering Bon Iver whimper. Not the type of sound that’s a prelude to silent tears. A yowl – a release. My boyfriend is a massive Gallants fan. When things went pear-shaped with his ex, Adam

autumn 2011

GETTING HITCHED

wedding smells It’s the tail end of wedding season: you’re probably craving a Saturday morning in bed like a crackstarved junkie, and bemoaning your bank balance ravaged by train fares. Chloe George laments

t this time of year, my ambivalence about weddings expands to the stage where I have to physically stop my weddingbashing side from punching my wedding-fond side in the face. My wedding-bashing side rolls its eyes at the fact that human beings still haven’t come up with a ritual for celebrating love that doesn’t include a ‘virginal’ white dress (when, let’s face it, for 99 percent of us that ship sailed long ago), changing the name you have always had just because you have two X chromosomes, or the act of being

“given away” by the patriarch of the family when it’s not normally like you have to Skype your dad to ask him if it’s ok with him if you fuck your boyfriend tonight. This side detests the way hen and stag weekends continue to grow more and more supersized and mandatory, so that it would not be surprising if we were soon required to sacrifice a limb or two to pay our respects to someone else’s lifestyle choice. It recognises that love doesn’t actually require £20,000 thrown at it, and that most brides think, about 100,000 times before the big day, “why the fucking LoRD did I think

the other side

this would be a good idea?” The other part of me spends around 0.6 hours per week looking at strangers’ wedding photos on facebook, makes lists of what songs I would use if I really had to get married (in case you are interested, hot contenders are Nick Cave’s “Into My Arms” for walking down some kind of aisle, and the Wave Pictures “I Love You Like A Madman” or Morrissey “You’re The one for Me, fatty” for the dancefloor), and sobs as brides I know and love come down the aisle looking glorious and yes, that bloody word – glowing. I see their faces aching with happiness, dance with their drunk uncles at the reception, listen to their emotional fathers make speeches, eat their cupcakes and feel the love bubbling in the room like lava (or Cava, depending on expenditure at that particular nuptial). I have learnt to categorise modern weddings, from the four Weddings and a funeral theme (country house, marquee, kilts and peonies), the ’ackney Town Hall hip city wedding (Chanel vintage dress, sausage and mash gastro pub reception and Bright Eyes soundtrack) to the al fresco au naturelle (flowery arbours somewhere near Kendal, children dressed as pixies, Chinese lanterns released in the sky and songs courtesy of friends in folk bands). At these times of contradiction in my mind, I despair. What I want becomes unintelligible, or perhaps what I want is banal, like what everyone else wants – maybe my worst fear of all.

It is ultimately disconcerting – for many people, anyway – to conclude that, as it turns out, they are just the same as everyone else. What is that paradox – the things we think we want, or the things we sometimes want, and sometimes detest? When I was a student, I had a lecturer that casually mentioned the idea that the things that seem most profound and personal to you are generally down to the social world around you. I went home and lay on my bed and couldn’t stop thinking about it. I even missed that lunchtime’s episode of Neighbours. The idea that I – me, who felt so passionately about the works of the early Manic Street Preachers, my My So-Called Life boxset and entering into a long-term relationship with Tim Wheeler from Ash – might want these things not because they came somehow naturally to me, but because of influences on me throughout my life, was endlessly fascinating. Capitalism, of course, is a particularly successful beast. It throws tastes and wants at you, and however hard you try, it’s impossible not to soak up its shiny, pre-ordained treasures. For the next ten years I would apply the idea to everything I came across, even – and especially – about the stuff that made me cross with myself. The way I ‘naturally’ craved thighs like barely ripe pears, chrome furniture in 1998 and distressed ‘shabby chic’ shelves in 2008, sparse eyebrows in 2001 and fuller ones in 2011. I noticed the way I felt like I would explode

with grief unless I bought a pair of block colour skinny jeans, which I eventually purchased then promptly forgot about a week later. I notice the way women’s supposed ‘biological’ clocks start ticking about ten years later than they did half a century ago. Even cursory looks at history show us that the things we feel good or revulsed by, and the things we really, really want change over time and in different cultures. But it’s hard to shake what you’ve been encouraged to want. And women are carefully trained to be gripped with – nay, obsessed with weddings. And, perhaps surprisingly, the myth of the fairytale love story is holding tight. Most of us are still getting married at some point,

my feelings about it occupy my mind, because – like a few other issues, like having children for example – it seems ridden with personal, paradoxical feelings. I wouldn’t tell others what to do, though I am a rotten curmudgeon about unreflective assumptions about what’s good or nice – “It’s just nice that way though isn’t it!” – not necessarily, old friend, I think – and I will reserve the right to change my mind one day about whether or not I feel the need for – or want – a husband. But only when I have worked out that it is something I actually want, not because it sounds nice to my heavily conditioned ears or because I want to show off to others or because I want to present a fiction to people about

the ’ackney Town Hall hip city wedding (Chanel vintage dress, sausage and mash gastro pub reception and Bright Eyes soundtrack) then shelling out on extravagant divorces twenty years later. Sometimes, when I am sitting with my boyfriend in our living room, and there’s still plenty of weekend left and we have a lovely DVD from the shop to watch and a roast in the oven, I think: you are all I want. Not a vintage lace dress. Not a ring on it. Not a photo in an album. Just the one in my mind. My boyfriend would probably get a sex change before he booked a wedding venue, so the question of whether to marry or not isn’t really a pertinent one for us anyway. We don’t need it, he says. What we need is us. But

autumn 2011

how perfect my relationship is. I would do my best to make it solely about love and reality. In fact, I may walk into the wedding venue carrying a sandwich board which says “He drives me up the wall when he leaves wet towels on the bed and I regularly daydream about having sex with someone from JLS”. But if I did take the plunge, I would make a speech and there would be no giving me away; I will never be anyone’s to give. Some traditions are worth figuratively shitting over. As for changing my name? I will be Chloe George forever. This you can hold me to.

CITY CEREMoNY

london

bride

WHEN I WAS a little girl, myself and other children on the estate amused ourselves one summer by playing weddings. This involved a gang of us divvying up the parts and going up to the grassy bit along from my Gran’s to perform fake ceremonies. Laura Devlin or Jacqueline Wallace tended to play the bride. our group was no dictatorship but they were obvious choices with their classic fairy Liquid advert beauty. Stuart forest and Scott Deenie took it in turns to be the groom, and a shortage of boys meant you had a 50 per cent chance of getting hitched to both of them at least once. Meanwhile, I was forever a bridesmaid – no self-respecting six-year-old boy wanted to fake marry a podgy five-year-old regularly accompanied by a Roland Rat soft toy in a pram. But I was okay with that. Sporting a face of newly formed splotchy freckles and a pair of scabby knees, I recognised my lack of bride credentials. Apart from anything else, I was always just quite grateful not to be lumped with playing the priest. However, a lot has happened

Sara McCorquodale defends her right to a damn good piss-up

in the 23 years since my first foray into weddings. I’ve found make-up. I fall over less. I leave Roland at home. And it turns out I am bride material after all. Yep, my rather wonderful boyfriend proposed to me. He got down on one knee in the forest at Latitude while Admiral fallow played my favourite song. Like every other trying-to-be-cool, I-don’t-believe-in-marr iage proclaiming sod, I burst into tears and promptly said yes. But here’s the trouble – I don’t know how to be that girl in the white dress. All the wedding magazines are giving me the choice of being the traditional bride; the bohemian bride; the bride who goes abroad. According to them, I can do whatever I want – within reason, of course. A brief flick through the major titles reveals I can do this in a church, a flash hotel or at a luxury country pile. But it’s not good enough, it doesn’t feel sincere and I haven’t told anyone else this but here’s what I’d like to do: I want to get up on the big day and put on the most beautiful, most intricate, most bum-

the other side

skimming white dress a girl can find this side of the Atlantic. I want to backcomb my hair into a huge beehive, draw on cats’ eyes and paint my nails navy blue. And then, I want to marry my unique beauty of a fiancé at Westminster Register office. Located inside old Marylebone Town Hall, it would allow us to tie the knot in a grand building away from all the fields, wildlife and clean air.

surely you wouldn’t get hitched to both your wives in the same place if it wasn’t top drawer? It’s got good credentials too. Paul McCartney married Linda there and Liam Gallagher wed Patsy, before returning to do the same thing with an All Saint years later. Surely you wouldn’t get hitched to both your wives in the same place if it wasn’t top drawer? Plus, beforehand, I’d be able to have a fag outside on the steps with my boyfriend without looking unbridely. Nothing looks worse than a girl in a big white dress chuffing away on a Marlboro while having a prematch chat with the vicar. People seem to discount London in favour of places they’ve no association with that put on identikit weddings every weekend. But I don’t get that, I want to start being Mrs Townsend in the best, most natural way possible. And that means tying the knot and celebrating in our country’s beautiful capital.

animal instinct

a certain kind of pet owner will parade their animal around with them as if its mere presence marks them out as a person of note, rather than just a shit with a shih tzu, or a twat with a cat. Having a pet can be a great ice-breaker in certain situations; whether you’re prancing through the park with a labradoodle on the end of a lead, or sitting on the Northern Line with a pitbull terrier while

the pavement. These things aren’t pests, they’re heroes. If they were humans, the Daily Mail would be slapping them with Pride of Britain awards, but instead most people become incensed every time one of these ‘rats with wings’ hoves into view. I just feel sorry for the little bastards. Another much-maligned animal that lives among us is the urban fox. Never mind what

accommodation in London is incredibly cramped, with people stacked on top of each other in tenement blocks, or in narrow rows of terraced housing. These are the kinds of living conditions that would make even a hamster feel claustrophobic, so why would anyone in their right mind want to inflict this on a proper animal like a dog or a cat? Sure, the lucky few have gardens, but these usually amount to little

everybody else is down the other end of the carriage, it’s sure to get people chatting.

Kenneth Clarke says about rioters, these guys are the real feral underclass. They appear out of nowhere, rummage through our bins, do a bit of screeching and then disappear back into the shadows when we all get up to go to work. Are they really so bad though? Sure, we don’t want these mangy ginger pricks in our houses and we wouldn’t let them anywhere near our kids, but the same can be said of Mick Hucknall, and no one’s trying to have him culled.

more than a scrappy patch of grass, an obligatory decking area and a rusty barbecue. How can any animal be expected to express its primal urges and answer the call of the wild (let alone get a bit of exercise) in an area that Ground Force could rejuvenate in 15 minutes? Of course, animals do offer their owners companionship and can be a real source of comfort to the socially awkward. But if you’ve got the kind of personality that can only be tolerated by a creature whose sole reason for hanging out with you is that you open a tin of food once a day, it’s probably time to join match.com and make sure you set your standards really, really low.

Any sign of life Having a pet is particularly problematic in London, a city that often seems to be antithetical to any form of life, whether animal, plant or human. Even the animals that are native to the city look as though they’ve found themselves here by accident. Pigeons, for example, supposedly thrive on London’s streets, but a large percentage of them seem to have sustained the kinds of injury that would send you or I straight to an NHS walk-in centre. They just carry on with their business or sit resignedly at the edge of

city

Too close for comfort So if an animal that has chosen to make its home here finds life so tough, what about animals which end up here through no fault of their own? Most of the

A lot of people see them as props companions, says

autumn 2011

who own pets rather than Edward Valand

dogs

be sky thinking

off with his head

ake es to t d i c e d i ch Murdo rowsk o y t d h r g i a C -m way not-so unique n on the w o is in h empire,

iya folks. How am ya? Hope all is fine, dandy and full to bursting in yer world, as it is in mine. The more so as I witness the tardy demise of my least favoured Dragon; Newsfox of the Inter-Spybox-Cor…pse. It may well be that to speak of demise would be to err on the side of reckless abandon, for truly the Lesser-crusted Antipodean has merely been a little humbled and stayed and, as yet, remains sadly, utterly undeceased and probably still spying on us. Seeing the once-mighty Digger struggle to understand questions put to him in his mother tongue and stumble before the gap-toothed snarling of his meekly assembled interrogators, induced not one drop of pity but oceans of incredulity. Could that Paragon of Neo-Con Capitalism; NewsIntCorp, really be run by this blatantly incompetent Dingo, his merry band of hand picked Lieutenants (resigned or otherwise) and assorted bloodrelates? And all of them baying the same self-congratulatory tune: “I can’t answer your questions for I’m up on charges. You toady.” In language only marginally less insulting. It would seem, to anyone with an inkling of the Bigger Pic, that Capitalism cannot allow

< Illustration by Tobias Pearce

the Digger and his Cronies to continue at the beating heart of this many-tentacled behemoth, if only for the reputation of the rotting carcass that is the Pervading System of Monetary Exchange that holds sway over so many realms

end but a new dawn. One then begins to wonder whether the demise of The Dingo Empire might be but a bone thrown to us Gutter Vermin, while the leash is shortened and tightened for ‘our own good’ by Hidden Keepers. Just as, after 9/11 and

the shareholder must rise up, claim sovereignty and demand the decapitation of the male-gorgon subordinated to the might of the Global Economy. Surely the Shareholder must rise up, claim sovereignty and demand the decapitation of the MaleGorgon, the better to perpetuate the myth of an Unfettered Free Market Economy that is able to regulate itself. (HA!) No, the Dingo/Digger must surely go! And that might be a Victory worth celebrating to the hilt, were it not for the example of history that lurks whispering in our ear: “Beware the aftermath!” One shudders at the thought that this might indeed not be an

autumn 2011

7/7, many and various of our civil liberties were curtailed in a supposed attempt to further the cause of the ‘war on terror’, so one wonders whether yet more freedoms, such as the ‘freedom of speech’, will now be curtailed in order to silence those who eavesdrop on celebrities, while, at the same fell swoop, those who investigate wrongdoing of greater import, and at a much higher and more secretive level, find themselves similarly constrained. The evidence of much Investigative Journalism (and »

MURDoCH BASHING CoNT.

here I preclude the Gossipers) is that those in High Places often seem to set themselves, and see themselves as, above the laws of the rest of us. And without careful and thorough investigation their manifold transgressions often go unchecked and unpunished to the detriment of the rest of us. one thinks of the Tobacco Industry en masse, the dirty deeds of the oil and Automotive Industry in keeping alternative engines out of the supposed ‘free-market’, various overprotective Pharma-magnates denying access to their products in the face of great need and poverty, the Presidency of R M Nixon, to name but a very few that have had to change their modus operandi under the glare of a Press that serves a Higher Calling than the mere scattering of tittle-tattle before an increasingly ignorant readership. The evidence of a light read of the bigger papers following the Nuptial of the Toffs would give further cause for concern. Seems that many a jolly prankster and agit-prop-er who were ready for a little ‘alternative commentary upon proceedings’ during the event were detained at Her Maj’s pleasure upon leaving their residences after some quiet snooping, eavesdropping and perusing of personal e-mailery by the boys in blue prior to the ‘blissful’ event. These poor folks were detained before they performed their outrageous acts of “Alternative Thinking’ because they had shown a desire to carry out such unseemly

practices as; Placard waving or an exhibition of Puppetry skills within eyesight of the ubiquitous CCTV and worldwide media. The given reason for their detention was along the lines of; nothing must be seen to besmirch the Happy Day. Nor the worldwide enjoyment of it, it seems. Not even the practice of Democracy can be allowed to reveal to the world at large the inability of our State to maintain complete control of its populace under the beady eye of the Spy TV. one goes back but a coupla years to that staggering event in The Elite People’s Republic of China to realise that what was being delivered there was not an exhibition of the industrial might and administrative prowess of a coming Empire, but more its ability to control such a vast population without so much as a squeak of dissonance. The suppression of dissent was absolute. It took Weiwei to rectify that after the event and look what happened to him. Take heed would be revolutionaries: Always Pay your Taxes! Seems to me that the events of the BillKate wedding were a mere trial run for what we got coming in 2012. By then we will have had a few more try-outs to test technology and personnel, a few more liberties curtailed and fewer opportunities to disagree and we’ll be yet further sunk into the sofa, with a bigger slice of pizza, watching a flatterwider-more-HD HDTV, simply because we have lost the will to choose anything else. All of which might leave us

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with a sense of the Most Mighty Despond. If we’ve slain this mighty Behemoth, brought the winged, Antipodean firebreather to it’s knees and seen it’s snarling, warty head cut off, must we really maintain the vigilance and prepare ourselves for yet further infringements on our hard won liberties? The short answer is, obviously, Yes. The longer is that the fight might be more pleasurable and enjoyable than we would have envisaged. Seems to me that the one weapon we can utilise, that They cannot, is outrageous acts of gratuitous generosity and compassion. We have an abundant supply of a force that They have no recourse to; the bounteous reservoir of our own good will. If we were to encourage and support each other, regardless of any recompense, it might be found that the Lying Toerags, Cheating Lowlifes and Manipulative Scumqueens who currently hold sway, find they have no consumers in their free Market and that thereafter all this bollox stops. And that’s gotta be more appealing than a 1984-like dystopia of brother spying on sister spying on mother spying on father spying on neighbour ad nauseam merely to maintain a withering, gated, suburban idyll that is all blinkers and sound proofed walls. Surely.

sec Ret

london

over the next 26 pages, we explore the London that no one knows

drinking dens p.18 music to discover p.20 Films about rioting p.26 indie cinemas p.29 life in a squat p.30 secret gardens p.32 toilet humour p.34 mystery shopper p.35 street style p.38 pedal power p.40 captial dining p.42 a roman holiday p.44 poetry p.48

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Illustration: RobbiePorter.co.uk

Worship St Whistling Shop

Speakeasy F Nathan May scours London for a drink

or too long now, Joe Londoner has been dumped on the side of the road after being cajoled – by a friend in recruitment who you haven’t seen since university – into attending a ‘swanky bar’ in Covent Garden. only to be told upon arrival (after the obligatory hour-long queue of course), that you don’t have the right shoes/ clothes/genitals (delete as appropriate).

I decided enough was enough, and have spent the last month on a quest… nay, a crusade… to assess as many of London’s drinking establishments as possible. Thus providing a much-needed guide for the everyday, borderline alcoholic, city dweller. A new breed of bar has taken the city by storm, allowing one to imbibe in secretive splendour. Known as the humble speakeasy (the irony being once you leave,

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speaking isn’t that easy), these establishments are a throwback to 1920s America during Prohibition. Initially illegal drinking dens set up to provide a much needed clandestine flow of the good stuff, they’re now reimagined in order to offer the discerning Londoner an escape from high street holes. It is said that a certain Kate Hester of McKeesport, just outside Pittsburg, is to thank for the origin of the word, as

DRINKING

she would often have to hush her rowdy customers for fear of alerting the local constabulary. “Speak easy boys, speak easy”, she would say, as debates inevitably became heated, after alcohol consumption increased. Regardless, the term has been snatched to fuel the next generation of watering holes, and is generating quite a buzz… Worship St Whistling Shop 63, Worship St, EC2 Harking back to pre-prohibition Gin Palaces (the name probably sounds better than they actually were) from the Victorian era, this new bar is the second establishment from the people behind Marylebone speakeasy Purl. Ideally located in Shoreditch, you would do well to remember this place when you have completed the Hoxton square circuit without managing to get one single drink in. They have their very own ‘laboratory’ where special concoctions are created. Not only that, they serve food from the Mussel Men (you might have seen them at a festival this year) providing quality seafood. If you really want to push the boat out, you can book the Emporium, for groups of 5-8 at a cool £95 per person. They will pop you in a special room and ply you with a selection of themed mixed drinks for two hours. whistlingshop.com Barts Sloane Avenue, SW3 Said to be the worst kept secret in London, this speakeasy might not be able to offer you a

particularly secret experience, but lets be honest, if you find yourself out in Sloane Square for some ungodly reason, anywhere will do. It will take a bit of finding, but that’s half the fun. The entrance is via the reception of a 1930s apartment block, head down the corridor towards the imposing black door with a lantern beside it. once inside, you can sit back in kitsch opulence, and take in the quirky surroundings. Prohibition era music is played, and food can be ordered. The usual selection of cocktails is also on offer. barts-london.com

outside, ready to turn you away at every opportunity. once inside, the cosy atmosphere and stunning cocktails will wash away any ill feelings from the door inquisition.

The Mayor of Scardey Cat Town 12-16 Artillery Lane Wondering what to do with that free day you have at the weekend? Here is a plan that will see you right through from breakfast till last orders, without the need to move. The new Breakfast Club, opened in Spitalfields, plays reception to this speakeasy, accessed through their Smeg fridge. The The Dalston Arts Club (Fox & bar itself is candlelit and can Cutlass) Dalston Lane, E8 offer up plenty of variations The fox & Cutlass is a Victorian on the classic Bloody Mary, to curiosity shop/private detective wash down that fry-up you just agency by day that transforms consumed upstairs. into a speakeasy members club at night. Run by Professor The Jubjub Bar Ulysses E fox and The Reverend 65 Rivington St, EC2 Captain Liability Eden H.M.U, A private members offering along with the help of their from the good people at Callooh housekeeper turned secretary Callay, this speakeasy has been Mrs Trellis, the fox & Cutlass described as one of the best-kept offers fancy dress, art, cabaret, secrets in Shoreditch. Down in and even chess boxing. You enter part to the fact that its just really through a bookcase, but not hard to find. once you have without the password, try the discovered the wardrobe you housekeeper’s facebook page for need to climb through, all you help with that. facebook.com/ have to do is get hold of a key to Mrs.Trellis access the door marked ‘private’. The good news is you might be Experimental Cocktail Club able to get one upon successful 13A Gerrard St, W1 completion of a membership It is remarkable that this place form from the bar downstairs. has retained a level of secrecy on As with big brother bar Callooh such a busy tourist street in Soho. Callay, the cocktails in the Crammed between two Chinese JubJub bar are very special, and restaurants, the scruffy looking a new menu is created every entrance is only noticeable week to keep you coming back by the omni-present bouncer for more. calloohcallaybar.com

autumn 2011

music

Unknown album The TOS music team put their headphones together, and came up with a list of bands that aren’t big, yet... {Nathan Eaton, Adam Richmond, Deb Harter, Méabh Ritchie, Dan Moss}

MNDR

MNDR For those of you unfamiliar with MNDR (AKA New Yorker Amanda Warner), she is best described as a solo female electro pop artist, akin to a hipster Lady Gaga. Her trademarks are catchy synth riffs, skintight lycra and of course her ubiquitous oversized white-rimmed glasses. Her upbeat and catchy pop songs get everyone dancing. Make no mistake though, this girl is as barking mad as they come. Look out for semi-regular cameo appearances from long-time collaborator Mark Ronson too, more than once he has been known to turn up to play keyboard for their track ‘Bang Bang Bang’. YOUR OTHER LOVER London-based four piece Your Other Lover have been creating a bit of a buzz for themselves in 2011, playing at the Barfly, The Garage and most of the other venues on the well-worn gig circuit. They have the image, attitude and stage presence of a band that have been on the scene for years; jeans so skinny they

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could have been painted on and more wrinkled vintage leather than Cliff Richard’s face. These guys have clearly been worshipping at the altar of the Jesus and Mary Chain and raised on a diet of Joy Division and Interpol, all fuzzed-out distortion and bass strong enough to beat you in an arm-wrestle. Definitely one to watch, keep your eye out for upcoming single ‘Kerouac’. DINOSAUR PILE UP The riff-tastic Dinosaur Pile Up have been quietly building up a solid fan base this year – ironic for such a loud band. Their debut album Growing Pains is magnificent, especially the fantastic ‘Barce-Loner’, surely a future single. A power trio consisting of vocalist guitarist Matt Bigland, bassist Harry Johns and drummer Mike Sheils, they play good old-fashioned rock music in the mould of Foo Fighters and Queens of the Stone Age. The quiet/loud dynamic hints at a grunge influence, and with most of their songs clocking in at around three minutes, the set zips along at pace. Great fun and full of adrenaline, definitely one to watch this year. SISSY AND THE BLISTERS If psychedelic garage-rock is your thing then you really need to listen to Sissy and the Blisters. James Geard is a very charismatic frontman with a booming baritone voice and skinny flailing limbs. The spooky organ lines and retro guitar riffs build up through their live sets to a crescendo that usually find Geard thrashing around in the crowd, with the band and the audience totally immersed in good old fashioned rock and roll spirit. THE HISTORY OF APPLE PIE THOAP have a huge reputation as this year’s next-big thing despite having released very little material. Stephanie Min is a captivating singer, her coquettish, wide-eyed innocence contrasts brilliantly with the distorted fuzzed-out feedback of the guitars. They’ve captured the distinctive Californian

Stephanie Min is a captivating singer, her coquettish innocence contrasts brilliantly with the distorted guitars sound despite being from London with sun-dappled stoner indie and grungepop. We’d definitely recommend that you catch these guys and see for yourself before they get too big for small venues. THE CHAPMAN FAMILY North-Eastern four piece The Chapman Family have had a great year, their debut album Burn Your Town is one of the years most underrated and their single ‘A nxiety’ should win awards in any sane society. Dressed all in black, »

autumn 2011

music

the band cut a menacing presence on stage. The savageness of their postpunk buzz-saw riffs match equally the ferociousness of the lyrics. One of the most consistently brilliant bands of 2011, their meticulously high standards permeate through their live sets. If you like your rock hard, then make sure you check these guys out on their next tour. TWO WOUNDED BIRDS One of the most hyped bands of the year, Margateâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Two Wounded Birds are a joy to behold. Their brand of snappy surf punk and psych rock sounds

Johnny Danger is as mysteriously charismatic as his name suggests

simultaneously retro but also immediate and current. Lead singer Johnny Danger is as mysteriously charismatic as his name suggests and is hynotically watchable. Bassist Ally Blackgrove is an incredible performer too, her powerful, driving riffs propel the band and her Debbie Harry good looks are attracting as much attention as the sound of the band. Expect big things from these guys. LULU AND THE LAMPSHADES Lulu and the Lampshades are three girls and a guy who play folky, atmospheric indie pop with a heavy emphasis on rhythm. They met at percussion school, so aside from playing guitar, Spanish guitar and violin, all three girls also play drums and glockenspiel at various points during their sets. Fans of Warpaint will particularly enjoy them, their swirling esoteric vocals and bohemian style show a clear line of inspiration, although they also draw heavily from modern folk acts like Laura Marling and Johnny Flynn. And So I Watch You From Afar Simply one of the finest live propositions about, this Northern Irish post-rock band, shreds and thunders and riffs to your very core. Always inventive, never dull and masters of their trade, shake off the shackles of landfill indie, and blow

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away the dust with ASIWYFA’s ear shattering, hardcore yet melodic rock. Start with their first, self-titled album, and Set Guitars to Kill, or catch them at one of the many, many gigs they play. THE JEZABELS Hailing from Sydney, Australia this indie quartet have been continuously touring their homeland and North America for the past three years to support a trilogy of EPs: ‘The Man is Dead’ (2009); ‘She’s So Hard’ (2009); and ‘Dark Storm’ (2010). Teaming haunting melodies with penetrating lyrics, Jezabels frontwoman Hayley Mary provides vocals that kill, with an infectious falsetto style that hits somewhere in the range of Cyndi Lauper to Kate Bush at it’s most powerful on lead single from the latest release ‘Mace Spray’. Gently combined with an aggressive rhythm section and trademark ascending guitar solos, the

let’s buy happiness

sound mixes rock and indie perfectly to make every song into an individual journey with those dulcet tones providing a soothing narration. Let’s Buy Happiness Let’s Buy Happiness are a five-piece band from Newcastle that produce ethereal indie-pop music. The band, in its current form, was born when Sarah Hall joined her younger brother James’ band as lead singer. Their songs are characterised by Sarah’s haunting vocal style, which is at times reminiscent of Bjork. The band have been championed by 6music, performed in session for Huw Stephens on Radio 1 and even played Glastonbury’s Peel stage in 2010. Little Green Cars Dublin five-piece Little Green Cars are Ireland’s best-kept secret. But maybe not for much longer. Their debut single, The John Wayne, was released through Young and Lost Club in July and produced by David Kosten, of Bat for Lashes and The Guillemots fame. Essentially a tale of unrequited teenage love, this song wears its heart on its sleeve, with enough epic harmonies to have Fleet Foxes running for the hills. But Little Green Cars have a darker, experimental edge. In ‘My Love Took Me Down to the River (to silence me)’, Faye O’Rourke »

autumn 2011

MUSIC

takes over the mic, letting loose the raw, visceral outpouring of a woman wronged. The B-side ‘Glass Case’, is a rhythmic, guitar-heavy pop-rock track, with vocals shared between faye and the boys. Coming from five teenagers, it’s pretty impressive. After playing Hoxton’s Underbelly and The Lock Tavern over the summer, Little Green Cars are touring in their home city. But they’ll be back before too long.

alessi’s ark

Forget faux-American countryside folk, this is genuine acoustic music from the capital ALESSI’S ARK Alessi Laurent-Marke is a 21-year-old from Hammersmith who weaves dreamy folk melodies under the moniker Alessi’s Ark. The eccentric songstress already has two albums under her belt; 2009 debut ‘Notes from The Treehouse’ and ‘Time Travel’ which was released earlier this year on the Bella Union record label. Both albums offer beautifully mellow songs driven by Alessi’s dulcet-toned vocals, which melt over every track. Being in the realms of feminine indie-folk naturally draws comparisons to Laura Marling, not least because Alessi has supported her on tour. Though the comparison may be slightly tenuous, Alessi is certainly worthy of the success Marling has achieved. Despite fitting into the same genre, her songs are notably different to the recent influx of English folk acts. While her lyrics are at times melancholy, they never come across as selfpitying. forget faux-American countryside folk, this is genuine acoustic music from the capital. Get more music news @ www.theothersidemag.co.uk

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fILM

If you think a view of the riots through the prism of film is frivolous or offensive, turn back now. This is no place for you. What use is film at a time like now anyway and why waste such precious paper and ink on it? By Adam Richmond

when the block

a t t a c k s 26

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ell, if film is a means to tell stories, create understanding, explicate a message, reveal character, shine a light on the unknown, feed our hope, let us face our fears and cathartically release them, then it’s of (some) use. But there is disconnect between the stories we tell and how we feel about those narratives’ brutal reality when writ large on our communities. Which brings us not-so-neatly to Attack the Block. Director (Adam &) Joe Cornish crafted a gloriously inventive, sharp, action-packed alien invasion movie in which council estate ‘yoof’ were the heroes. People laughed, cheered and the UK had an underdog film to be proud of. But, hooded < Still from the film as Attack the Block youths (such as the heroes of the film) bask in the smoky gloom of the riots, is it a story people can still connect to? A friend noted that perhaps “the portrait of them as wiseass rascals now seems quite unpleasant”. Would audiences find these heroes quite so heroic, post London riots? one of the boldest strokes of the film was resituating the ignored, dispossessed, street savvy youths – those we walk past, heads down, speeding up – and making them the heroes. Cornish took inspiration from being mugged, noting how scared they seemed at the time, how rote the whole act was. Creating a situation where these boys could be the heroes was surprising and effective.

Here, these hero hoodies could exercise their street smarts as a force for good. The resulting film was funny and scary – a slice of home-grown John Carpenter pie with a side order of Spielberg. But while it gave a human face to a section of society we ignore/ don’t understand/are scared of, it perhaps also presciently set down some of the key drivers behind the wanton violence and destruction. To think that every kid on an estate was involved in the riots would be grossly misrepresenting the situation (though that doesn’t stop the likes of the Daily Heil), but the nuanced way Attack the Block shows the boys’ lives, their exclusion, their anger mirror the factors that ultimately fed into why the real life street kids got in among the violence (and no, that’s not excusing it or defending it). The joy the boys have in the film fighting the alien and blowing stuff up, is the very same joy/nihilism that the real life thugs got from the real life riot – it was a laugh and they’ll brag about it back at school. So the crushing reality – a mere three months after Attack the Block was released – is that life has decided to create a narrative twist, recasting the young ’uns back to their role as nightmarish creatures stalking their urban patch. Worse, there has been gleeful destruction of property, joyous violence, and have-a-laugh thievery. As a result people have lost their livelihoods, homes and businesses. Communities have been shattered. We’re gonna need a bigger boat.

autumn 2011

one of the boldest strokes of the film was resituating street savvy youths and making them the heroes Many-a-malcontent Attack the Block was not the first to serve up our heroes so angry and nihilistic (though it is the most notable to do it with a sci-fi, horror bent). There is a nice tradition in grim British films of angry, insouciant, rebellious youth kicking against the system – If.…, Made In Britain, Scum, A Clockwork orange, This is England. It is La Haine, though, that stands tall as a film that highlights the powder keg of social exclusion, police brutality and nihilistic youth. Vital and visceral, the film follows a day in the life of french estate kids acting tough, causing trouble and plotting revenge for a fallen comrade. All the while, violence and tension bubbles through the glorious black and white cinematography and explodes » through the french

fILM

La Haine

violence and tension bubbles through the glorious black and white cinematography hip-hop soundtrack. When it reaches its climax, the viewer is unaccountably on the side of estate kids… so (again), why is this narrative forgotten when a similar, real-life situation leads widespread riots? Why do we forget the human face behind these acts, when understanding it might help prevent it happening again. The brutal horror of it all has made everyone forget that these acts have beginnings. They sparked off for a reason, and knee-jerk condemnations are useful to no one but the condemners. All of these rebel films serve up stories of the underdog, of facing down wrong-headed adults and draconian authority (or toothy aliens), of snarling and fighting and sometimes triumphing in the face of defeat. We are urged to empathise with our

So why, when his real-life counterpart (and his buddies) kick back, do we switch off to their ‘story’? Probably because this ultra violence is real, and something we cannot turn away Don’t forget that the 55th from (or off). We are stuck with BFI London Film Festival is it, and if one of those bricks happening soon – October smashed through our window, 12 to 27 – and will be well, all that empathy splinters taking place in cinemas away with it – “the bleeding all over central London, heart liberals are doing a bit too showing an astonishing much understanding, let’s crack range of material from all some fucking heads”. This is no over the world. Visit the film, and the crushing normality website for more details: of low level fear and people putting their lives back together www.bfi.org.uk/lff trumps the fantasy of rebel striking back. youthful anti-hero, understand And that’s the disconnect. So his alienation, rally at his why bother telling their stories mistreatment, and cheer when in the first place, if we are just he spits in the headmaster’s eye going to stick our fingers in our (or shoots him in the head a la ears when the helicopter noises Malcolm McDowell). get too loud?

55th london film festival

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the back row By Zoe Dawes

Tired of the soulless multiplex? London’s local independent cinemas are alive and well oNE of THE GREAT things about independent cinemas is they don’t limit their programme to just showing films. They have talks by directors or critics, screen live National Theatre productions, hold exclusive member-only events and festivals. It’s this variety and depth that makes these places a much more satisfying home for film-lovers than your bogstandard Vue or odeon. But where can they be found? Let’s start with an introduction to the Central London independents. Most prevalent are the curzon Cinemas – with branches in Mayfair, Soho, Richmond, Bloomsbury (Renoir) and Chelsea. Curzon Cinemas are dedicated to independent and foreign-language cinema, but each branch has a subtly different focus which gives it a unique character, and they don’t shy away from showing the odd blockbuster if it makes

the cut. Try their Soho operation for great cakes from Konditor & Cook with a side of director Q&As, documentaries and the latest in foreign-language fun. The Chelsea screen is the largest screen outside of the West End and has perhaps the most mainstream films. The Renoir – the Bloomsbury screen – is the Curzon’s home of art-house, situated in the Brunswick Centre near Russell Square. The ica is another notable film venue for adventurers; the programme is always without fail eclectic and refreshing, with a liberal sprinkling of unknown directors, art-house and documentary. Moving away from the centre of town, there’s plenty of independent cinema action to be had. The ones to watch in north London are the everyman Cinemas, with screens in Belsize Park, Hampstead, Islington and Baker Street. The Hampstead screen is tucked away on a sidestreet off Holly Bush Vale, and is especially notable because of its unbelievably luxurious sofa seats. The Screen on The Green on Upper Street is a lovely old purpose-built Edwardian cinema, while the Belsize Park Everyman is on the high street and has a very stylish street-side cafe/bar where you can watch the world go by before or after a film. There’s also a new screen opening this November in Maida Vale. The Everyman offers a distinctly upmarket cinema experience, with cocktails, nibbles, absurdly comfortable seats and even waiter service in several of their auditoriums.

autumn 2011

Their programme tends to be a mix of intelligent or high quality mainstream titles and foreign language crowd-pleasers. In north London, you will also find the unique phoenix in East finchley. It’s a vintage cinema experience much beloved by locals, with a programme that reflects a diverse audience demographic. In Brixton there’s the fabulous ritzy, within a stone’s throw of the brilliant covered market and boasting a resolutely Picturehouse programme. You’re pretty much guaranteed an eclectic programme. In Brixton they tend to screen mainstream titles alongside relative unknowns, as well as NT live screenings and their own festival events, from music to comedy to critiques. Shoreditch now has rich mix, offering a truly inspirational programme of world cinema and documentary film – they have Doc House Thursdays, bringing cutting edge international documentary film to the screen. There’s a good mix of short film offerings as well as more mainstream stuff. In Dalston it’s the rio on Kingsland High Street, with it’s killer leopard-print upholstery and community focus. Most recently their programme has included the Hackney film festival and a special event ‘A Narrative of Unrest’ in reaction to the London riots. don’t forget the Barbican, the BfI, the Tricycle and the Clapham Picturehouse. Wherever you are there’s an independent cinema near you.

Squatting

THE RIGHT TO SQUAT

Méabh Ritchie reports on squatting in London

here’s the legendary filmmaker Derek Jarman and the cross-dressing, Turner prize winner Grayson Perry; the husky-voiced Mariella Frostrup, and comedian turned film star, Russell Brand. What do they all have in common? They all squatted in London. For thousands of skint ‘creatives’ coming to London to make their mark, living the dream was only made possible through squatting. Since the revolutionary 60s, through to the anarchist punk movement

of the 70s and 80s, and even in the more recent decades, squats have provided housing and space for artists, activists and anyone who needed a roof over their head. Squatters also made their mark in London’s history – reviving old buildings or creating communities in disused space. Hard to believe that the Brockwell Lido – the jewel in Lambeth’s crown – was closed by the council in the early 1990s. It was squatted in 1993, and hosted cabaret nights and

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parties, one of which held 2,000 people and must have convinced the council it was worth saving. One of London’s biggest squats was on Huntley Street, Bloomsbury. As well as holding festivals and running a cafe, the squat provided a re-housing service for the homeless. When the squat was evicted in 1978 (by no less than 300 police with bulldozers) solidarity protests were staged across the world. It might be under the mainstream radar, but squatting is bound up in London’s past, and

it is still the bedrock of London’s underground scene, with squats organising club nights, outreach projects, exhibition space and if nothing else, a cheap bar. But the scene is under threat from squatting being made a criminal offence. At the moment it is legal but unlawful – a dispute between the squatters and the landlord. Squatters can’t be forcibly removed if the house is always occupied by a member of the group and landlords have to get a court order to get

been some high profile evictions, intended to scare the shit out of the squatting community. The 22 flats at Clifton Mansions in Brixton that had been up and running since the 1990s were evicted in July (only after an eviction street party of course). In an attempt to stamp out anarchist activity, five squats were raided by the police the day before the royal wedding, including the well established Ratstar in Camberwell and Off Market in Hackney. Newspapers have also been clamouring to report squatter activities, like the Sunday Torygraph’s Stop the Squatter Campaign, resulting in some high-profile coverage aimed at fuelling moral outrage among the Disgruntled of Tunbridge Wells. Back in January, the Da! Collective renamed a £22.5m Mayfair property ‘The Temporary School of Thought’, and their free art lessons to {Thanks to Alistair Binley members of the public were for the use of his photos} given pages of newspaper space for the month they were there. people out. You have rights to Slightly less successful were the the property if they have lived Really Free School who took there for more than 12 years and over one of Guy Ritchie’s houses the current situation protects in Fitzrovia for only five days. squatters from the police and But squatters are more likely angry landlords getting violent. to have a long-term aim. The Under the proposed law, Squatters Advisory Service squatting could become a (SAS), which published The criminal offence instead of civil Squatters’ Handbook in 1976, - police will be allowed to force and a subsequent 13 editions, entry and arrest anyone who has advises people to occupy occupied a property. There could buildings that aren’t being even be prison sentences for used. Not only can squatters squatters if they are prosecuted. have some security and know Got that? In short, squatters that they can benefit from any are a bit fucked really. There have improvements they make to

there have been some high profile evictions, intended to scare the shit out of the squatting community

autumn 2011

the property. But it also means there’s a chance to establish links with the community and transform a space. Even if you’re not into the squatter scene and don’t fancy shacking up with a commune, squats offer everything from free bike repairs to quirky cafes; alternative exhibitions to some of the best parties around. If you know where to look... The Oubliette The Oubliette Arthouse has taken over some of London’s best buildings, most recently a former church that used to be the Limelight Club on Shaftesbury Avenue, where they staged an art exhibition and pop-up cabaret. There has also been a regular exhibition, ‘Home is where your art is’ in the heart of Mayfair. theoubliette.co.uk 56a Infoshop At the ripe old age of 20, 56a is a long-established squat on Crampton Street, near Elephant and Castle. It’s open four days a week with drop-in evenings every other Tuesday if you want to find out more. 56a.org.uk The Really Free School The worthy motto of this collective is: “skills are swapped and information shared, culture cannot be bought or sold”. Based at Whitcomb Street for now, the collective also run a space at 5 Bloomsbury Square, which is open from 10am to 10pm and hosts all kinds of workshops, talks and one of two good wine evenings to boot. reallyfreeschool.org

SECRET GARDENS

g r e e n par t y visitinghousesandgardens.wordpress.com

Sometimes the only grass you see in London is poking through the paving slabs. And now even the Blue Peter garden is being shipped off to Salford. Joe Bridal has found a few of the lesser-known gardens in the areas we work, drink and play

The Wildlife Garden King’s Cross is best known for its clubs, vice and being the gateway to Europe. It’s probably pretty low down your list of places to watch wildlife. Maybe the occasional cockroach on the wall of a kebab shop, or a late-night rat scampering into the canal is all you’d expect. But just five minutes’ walk from St Pancras station, two acres of ground have been transformed into a nature reserve. A natural habitat for butterflies, birds and amphibians and opened by Ken Livingstone in 1985, he’d be delighted to know it now even contains his beloved newts. To get there from St Pancras, walk down Pancras Road to the big second-hand furniture shop, then turn right under the tunnel with the car park, turn left and walk for a minute and an archway will appear in the scruffy hedge across the road. open Monday till Saturday, 9-6.

Luxury Roof Garden finding green space in London is rare. Chances are someone’s got there before you and thrown down an old car rug or built a Pizza Express. If you want to get back to nature without the threat of flying frisbees, then the only way is up. for a real taste of luxury and some top-class beautifying, treat yourself to an afternoon at the Roof Garden in The Berkeley Hotel, Knightsbridge. Complete with swimming pool and deckchairs, posh toiletry makers Green & Spring have recreated the British countryside a few storeys up, just a stone’s throw from Harrods. Go for one of Green & Spring’s luxury massages and you’ll get free access to the swimming pool, the hotel’s health club and the majestic secret garden. Transformed into a lush, green space by top florist McQueens, you can lie back smell the lavender and enjoy the pampering.

TUBE King’s Cross BORIS BIKE Pancras Road

TUBE Hyde Park Corner BORIS BIKE Kensington High Road

the other side

The Central Garden So, you’re walking around Soho, you’ve been to the bars, the record shops, the cafes, and passed the stairways leading you to ‘models’ at the top. But there’s something missing… You only realise later, that the sense of unfulfillment is because you haven’t seen any woodlice. How many times has this happened to you? A hundred? Twice? Never?

But there is an oasis of calm, an escape from the braying polo-shirted toffs, the tribes of tourists and the screaming kids. Tann Rokka, a stylish furniture and accessories shop, has opened a weekend tea garden. Located at the side of the bridge between Chalk Farm station and The Pembroke’s overspilling beer garden, it’s easy to walk straight past it (although the sign saying Secret Tea Garden provides a pretty good clue). Watched over by the owner’s sunbathing West Highland terrier, you can enjoy a pot of tea among the lush, green plants. Being next to a railway line, and with steep steps, kids under 10 aren’t allowed – so you won’t find yourself tripping over baby buggies or Tarquin and Japonica on their micro scooters. You can choose from a wide range of teas from the selection in the potting shed, then find a sunny table and relax.

No, me neither, but it’s nice to know that should you feel a primeval urge to be among ants, beetles, worms and a louse or two in central London, help is at hand. The Phoenix Garden, just off Shaftesbury Avenue, is a community garden run by volunteers. To get there from Soho, head across Shaftesbury Avenue and nip between Bar Salsa and the Phoenix Theatre onto Phoenix Street, and at the end of Phoenix Street is the garden. Much more refined than Soho Square, it’s kept in tip-top condition and is the only remaining central garden out of the seven original Covent Garden Community Gardens. Special events in the summer include regular barbecues, and while the alcohol ban may put some off, it does mean you’ll be less likely to encounter any Special Brew drinkers. Dogs are also banned. So why not slip off your shoes and feel the grass between your toes.

TUBE Chalk Farm BORIS BIKE London Zoo

TUBE Leicester Square BORIS BIKE Moor St

thebrokelondoner.wordpress.com

Secret Tea Garden When the sun is out the masses descend on Primrose Hill. The pubs swell, any patches of green land get covered with tablecloths heaving with Pimm’s and pork pies, and London has a picnic. Getting a beer in a pub becomes a military operation and it seems impossible to avoid the crowds (the Princess of Wales’ hidden downstairs beer garden is usually a good bet for beers though).

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Loo LIFe

porcelain dreams Who are these people that go to the loo with a pen in their pocket? Have they spent an hour in there crying their eyes out and finally decided to let it go, in writing? Zoe Dawes takes a look in the stalls I just spent a half hour on a crammed bus sitting next to a woman having a loud tearful telephone conversation; at one point she actually broke into sobs. Secret London. Who are we kidding? Londoners live in each other’s pockets, stand pressed into each other’s armpits on the tube, read over each other’s shoulders and listen to each other’s conversations. But sometimes – despite all the odds – the secrets of the city appear to you when you’re least expecting it. Public toilets occupy a strange liminal space between the private and the public – secret

and totally accessible. Simply by virtue of your gender, you’re missing out on a whole half of the capital’s conveniences; they’re pretty exclusive. Toilet cubicles are open to all but are also the only space in which you can be assured of being completely shut off from the world, for a minute or two. Perhaps because of this, lots of them hold the city’s intimate little secrets and disclosures – who loved who in 2009? Who woz ’ere? (we’ll ignore the latest in racist invective and which football team are shit, because there’s always a few that have to spoil everyone’s fun).

the other side

With the advent of coffee shop chains and increasingly sanitised pubs, central London is becoming astonishingly lacking on the toilet graffiti front. It’s a shame. The city is immeasurably poorer for the loss of venues like the Foundry - for myriad reasons, one of which must be it’s spectacular display of loo graffiti, so dense that you could barely see the colour of the walls. Public loos and the things written in them are an endangered secret city experience; it’s a forum without consequences with a diverse readership – like the internet but more offensive on the nose.

With shops on both land and water, those that sell old bicycles, vintage clothes, books, wine or bric-a-brac, we’ve scoured our local neighbourhoods for our favourite hidden shopping treasures. You won’t find these on the tourist trail...

undercover shops » by brenna d

uncan

retail therapy

Unpackaged

42 Amwell Street, London, EC1R 1XT

Unpackaged sells organic and environmentally friendly produce and their motto is to reuse and refill. They believe lots of packaging is unnecessary, so they’ve taken it away and gone back to basics. Saving us money and preventing excessive waste going to landfill, we wonder why no one thought of it earlier. Just follow these simple steps: 1. Take your containers from home – anything from jam jars to Tupperware and paper bags to takeaway cartons 2. Weigh your containers at the counter and choose the groceries you want 3. Take your items home to enjoy 4. When you’ve run out, go back for a refill www.beunpackaged.com

The Book Barge

Usual mooring at Marina, Staffordshire

Barton

A floating bookshop which sells new and second hand classic, contemporary and children’s fiction. Moored in Hackney and then King’s Cross during recent summer months, they will deliver any books you order personally by bike, or for waterside residents they offer a unique dingy delivery service! www.thebookbarge.co.uk

Vintage Hart

Trinity Hospice Furniture Shop 212-216 Putney Bridge

96 Church Rd, Upper Norwood, Crystal Palace, SE19 2EZ

Road, SW15 2PA

This cute little vintage boutique does a nice job of persuading you to enjoy a tipple from the bar either on the way in or out, since it’s attached to the side of The White Hart pub. Although small and compact, Vintage Hart is filled with carefully selected and good quality vintage clothing and accessories for the girls. Send the boys to the bar!

Opening earlier this year, the Trinity Hospice Furniture Shop is full to the brim with some excellent bargains in second hand furniture and accessories. With the shop team collecting furniture free of charge from south west and central London on a daily basis, you’re unlikely to leave with nothing. Plus, your cash is going to a worthy cause.

the other side

Little Pad

Sargent and Co.

CHUG

Hidden below Lucky Seven record store, you could easily miss this little gem. First you’ll need to navigate your way through the piles of old vinyls, before you discover Little Pad’s small yet affordable range of men’s, women’s and children’s vintage clothes sourced from Paris. You’ll also find vintage jewellery and crockery.

This bespoke bike shop, with frames and old memorabilia clinging to the walls, aims to promote, revive and facilitate the sport and pastime of cycling. But take note from their website “No mountain bikes or modern carp”. Services are competitively priced and include restoration “of your old wreck”, re-spraying, servicing or build ups.

Hidden behind Kingsland Road, lies the secret narrow boat community CHUG (Canals in Hackney Users’ Group). The charity, which dates back to 1983, comprises of 14 house boats and a floating allotment. If you’re lucky enough to catch an open day you should take the tour and enjoy a cup of tea and slice of homemade cake.

Cafe Vintage

Borough Wines

Umit & Son

Opened last year in a side street not far from Finsbury Park, Cafe Vintage combines two sisters’ love of baking and fashion. Enjoy fresh bread, cakes and coffee then browse the collection of men’s, women’s and children’s vintage clothing in the back. If you venture down the street, you’ll find the Sylvanian Families headquarters, remember them?

Hackney was thirsty, so Borough Wines came along to help and boy has their wine refill scheme proved a big hit with the locals! Simply buy a refillable one litre wine bottle for £2.50, fill it up from the barrel for £6, drink it and then go back and top it up. Not only does the refill scheme save money, by reusing bottles it’s better for the environment.

This little shop is full of intrigue and a film buffs heaven. With an eclectic mix of old film equipment, film reels, recording devices and an array of LPs, VHS and DVDs all piled high, you can also transfer your old films to digital format. Ever fancied projecting a flickery cinema reel onto your wall? Well then this is the place for you.

127 Stoke Newington Church 74 Mountgrove Road, London, Street, N16 0UH N5 2LT

88 Mountgrove Road, London, N5 2LT

67 Wilton Way, E8 1BG

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Kingsland Basin E8

35 Lower Clapton Hackney, E5 ONS

Road,

FASHION

Savvy stylin’ From late summer festivals to a stroll in Soho, we discovered an array of graphic prints adorned with on-trend accessories. With polka dots, stripes and bold checks in the mix, this lot show you how to pull it all together with fur, feathers, lace, leather, head scarves and even a bow tie! Style spotters: Christina Wong, Brenna Duncan, Hannah Brown Victoria – Administrator Polka dot dress – Debenhams

John – Designer Bow Tie – All Saints Waistcoat – Topman

Ola – Textiles Student Cardigan – ASOS T-shirt – Bethnal Green market Earrings – H&M

Toby – Student Polo neck – M&S Jeans – Topshop Bag – Portobello market Shoes – DM

Ava – Actress Jacket – Christine (Germany) Trousers – Peacocks Bag – Vivienne Westwood Ring – Jewellers in Switzerland

Hannah – Fashion student Shirt – New Look Shorts – Topshop Scarf – Charity shop Shoes – Second hand

Lizzie – Love magazine Checked dress – Roman Road market Black lace jacket – H&M

Rachel – Shop owner Jacket – Vintage shop in San Francisco Trousers – Wrangler from 1960s Glasses – Ralph Lauren Socks – Sushi

cycling

eastern express Greg Nay cycles from Covent Garden into the Essex borderlands to enrich the sensations and see the best of London

Seven Dials, the original meeting point of hustlers, vagabonds and evildoers. For us, a starting point for a culinary bike journey through this great city. Go up Mercer Street, right on to Shaftesbury Avenue. Head up to Bloomsbury Way and then straight into Theobald’s Road. This becomes Clerkenwell Road. Hit Old Street, go straight over the roundabout. Carry on past the fire station, when you see an open space with some graff, you should spot the red umbrella of Big Apple Hot dogs. Talk to the man in red. He’ll run you a list of different pimp steaks. Big Dog, Frank junior, Big Frank. I was sold on the Big Dog, a smoke infused, coarse ground garlicky Polish style dog, providing for a good chew. The skin snapped delicately and the not-so-often-seen juices in a hot dog came running out. The light and not-too-bready bun, made it easy to go for another. This time Frank Junior, a classic beef and pork combo that seemed to dissolve in my mouth. Next time I’m going for his older brother. These all come served with optional onions and a plethora of sauces. My favourite the Polish mustard. 3.0 Miles All grubbed up, get back on Old Street, pass Shoreditch town hall, go under the railway bridge, through the lights and slip in to Hackney Road, on the wall to your right you should see a big eye. Trust me, you haven’t had too many hotdogs if you see one nailed to a cross on a brick wall to your left. You’re going in the right direction if you pass Hackney City Farm, brake… and

do a sharp left up Goldsmith’s Row, you should run straight into Broadway Market. Go here for Banh Mi(a Vietnamese sandwich) at Ca Phe Vn’s Saigon street cafe. Or maybe just have a Vietnamese Iced Coffee if you’re thinking of heading on further to stop three, and need to save some room in your belly.

BIG APPLE HOT DOGS Bite through the light crisp baguette, tear through fresh greens, crunch the carrots, your tongue hits the heat of the chilli, and you’re finally tantalised by the unctuous meat combo. Chew more intensely to increase the taste structure of your mouthful, when its time to take another bite continue in this blissful manner, let your lips lightly brush your fingertips, then rein it in before they become just another ingredient in your sandwich. Your choice of fillings include: pate, roast pork, bbq pork, ham, five spice pork. Basically a whole lot of porkiness. 3.6 Miles When you’re ready, peel off nice and slow, get those legs warmed up for the longer stretch. Push your way through the crowds in the direction of London Fields, jump upon your steed and roll through the park. ‘Pub on the Park’ to your left (mmmm a pint?). You should hit

Martello Street (formally Tower Street), follow the cycle lane and embrace the dark underneath of railway bridges, indulge in riding by chic boutique apartments. The cycle lane briefly turns into Hackney Grove. Bang! You will be spat out onto Reading Lane. You will see Hackney town hall as you turn left onto Mare Street. At the railway station Mare Street hooks a tight left and turns into Amhurst Road, scoot your butt up there. Head to the lights at the end of the road. The Pembury Tavern will be on your right. Feeling thirsty, stop for a pint (again). I’ve never been there, but on a

saigon street cafe whim it looks like a good thirst quenching destination. Or roll on. Take a long right at the lights, do not go straight! It will look like you can’t but just do it. You probably won’t see a sign for a minute or two, but you’re on Dalston Lane, feel the force and carry on. When you can only go left or right at the lights go left onto Lower Clapton Road. Go forth until you approach Lea Bridge Roundabout. This thing has double lights, Keep on turnin’ and turnin’, third exit. Left onto Lea Bridge road. You are going in the right direction if you see a suspect Jerry Springer eating a slice of pizza. 20 points if you spot the frowning log in

autumn 2011

the park to your left. Pump hard as you can, it’s a clear run for a mile or two and then another two through a built-up area. Pass under Bakers Arms railway bridge. “And to your right is a drive(cycle) thru KFC.” Another two miles and out of the built up business. Cruising into Woodford New Road. Hit a cattle grate, then hit a mother loving huge ass roundabout with five lanes. Get in the third lane and boldly go straight on. Second cattle grate… You’re in Essex and verging on the countryside. After 300 feet there should be a pub on the corner called the Napier Arms, hang a right down Fullers Road and the Lobster Pot is in the parking lot of the pub. A squelch of scallop, smokey bacon and the soft sponginess of blood pudding, all stuffed in a poppy seed roll. Being a dirty cycle food heathen, I also slathered in some

lobster pot seafood sauce. You have a spread of high quality sea bits on offer here: cockles, winkles, oysters (Maldon), mussels, kippers. It’s a mixed bag of sea-fresh fun. Vinegar ready for action, black pepper open, season at will, eat decadently, with vigour and a sprinkle of salt. If available get the king crab legs, true monstrous appendages, worth every buck. 10.5 Miles

FOOD

Step up to

the plate

Don’t be fooled, The Real Greek is nothing like dining under the Partheon. And stop wasting time with La ‘almost as bad as KFC’ Tasca. London has heaps of great places to eat. Go chow something decent. Here’s a guide to the best eats in London

Yalla Yalla

1 Greens Court Soho 020 7287 7663

Yalla Yalla is, above all, obscenely good value. This Lebanese street food cafe is set in less than salubrious surroundings on a seedy alley near old Compton street, opposite a sex shop. Throughout my first visit a Soho veteran carted opaque bin liners filled with DVDs from his shop to god knows where. It is therefore slightly surprising to be welcomed to the warm, bustling, if slightly cramped interior by piles of Lebanese wraps, pastries and other assorted goodies on the

counter that spans nearly the entire width of the restaurant. There is seating for about 20 diners, with two tables outside to lap up the, erm, atmosphere. The food is consistently high quality Lebanese street fare. Lunchtimes present the best value; for £5.50 you can choose a wrap and a mezze from the full menu as well as the free offering of olives and pickles before the main event. My usual choice of Hummus shwarma and a sucuk wrap is almost certainly my daily calorie allowance, but

the other side

is fantastic. The stalwarts of falafel, tabouleh, and fatoosh are all here, and brilliantly executed. There is always a daily special, which tends to branch out from the traditional Lebanese priced between six and 10 pounds. Beer is priced where you would expect for soho. If it’s sopping up the alcohol from a few post-work pints, a quick lunch while in town, or meeting friends for dinner in the evening, this place has never disappointed me. Words: Robin Raven

Morito

The Coffee Cup

32 Exmouth Market 020 7278 7007

74 Hampstead High Street 020 7435 7565

You can’t book a table for the baby brother of Moro. The hustle and bustle of late night Spain is here for all to see: the wine is served in carafes and you shouldn’t go expecting a plated meal. It is noisy too. If you can grab a seat at the bar and get

If you’ve been for a stroll on the Heath, or been checking out the latest exhibition at Camden Arts Centre, or if you’ve been doing a tour of the pubs in the area (there are many – ale drinkers should try the Hollybush, their menu isn’t half bad either) and you find yourself on the high street and hungry, this is the place. It feels a bit like a time capsule; nothing seems to have changed for at least 50 years... in a good way. In fact it’s the oldest coffee lounge in London. There’s outside seating under a red-and-white striped awning for when it’s warm (or even when it isn’t, smokers) and the inside is decked out with tiny tables and red leather seats so if it’s busy – and it often is – everyone rubs elbows. It’s got a very mixed clientele; mad old ladies and gents, yummy mummies, students, families... and it’s open surprisingly late for a cafe; closing time at around 11pm most of the time. The food isn’t fancy and doesn’t pretend to be, but it’s dependable and tasty. Home-style cooking is the order of the day here. It’s something of a miracle that somewhere this unpretentious has survived in this area. House specialities include; raisin toast – an inexpensive way to fill a hole; deepfried zucchini, as a side; milkshakes, and their cooked breakfast. Words: Zoe Dawes

chummy with the extremely knowledgeable waiters then do. If they have it, try the baby squid, it’s great, but not always on offer. While the food is reasonably priced, some of it comes in quite small portions (the reason there is no ‘s’ on scallop is because it is just one scallop). The salt and spices with olive oil is genuinely brilliant. It is worth doing as the Spanish do and have your wine with some food on the side. You can fill up on food and wine for about £40. Words: Sam Lassman Watts

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Relais de Venise L’Entrecôte

120 Marylebone Lane 020 7486 0878 When you don’t want an argument, when you don’t want to make any decisions, you can let the people at L’Entrecôte, hook you up. One meal, one price: twenty one quid for salad, steak and frites. Order the house red: a just right

a green salad with walnuts and a mustard vinaigrette, a primer, and so simple it makes all the new wave chefs’ eyes bleed Bordeaux, sit back, admire the faultless ritual that staff and customers alike go through. First, a green salad with walnuts and a mustard vinaigrette, a primer, and so simple it makes all the new wave chefs’ eyes bleed. Next comes the steak, smothered in a secret sauce. The pomme frites regimentally cut, fodder for that glorious goop. But, just when you’re about to lick your plate clean, here comes a second serving. Life is good. (wine not included in price) Words: Greg Nay

TRAVEL

Tour it up

Sam Lassman Watts on a Roman holiday We love Rome. It’s truly a remarkable place. Yes, it has the downfall of more tourists per square metre than Selfridges, but it’s the kind of place where every turn brings a breathtaking ohmygodcheckthatshitout. But the thought of filling this page with Roman cliches makes me shudder, the same way that romcom with Kristen Bell make me shudder (actually that made me a bit sick). So I won’t. I will just pass on just very obvious, but very key tips (then we’ll get to the good stuff – the food). Plan ahead. Yes, that’s what dads do and it sucks the spontaneity right out, but you can beat the ridiculous queues. And the queues into the Hollywood stops in Rome are quite ridiculous, Alton Towers and Eurodisney are nothing compared to getting into the Sistine Chapel. It’s cheaper too if you pick up the tickets online beforehand. With a bit of

structure to your days you can then afford to go off the beaten track and fall into all those hidden surprises that make a holiday really special. As for what to do, well you shouldn’t need us to tell you to walk through the ruins from the Colosseum to the Pantheon before heading to the Trevi Fountain to throw a coin over your head. It’s touristy, but that’s probably why you bought your ticket. Getting there A taxi from Ciampino Airport should cost you no more than 40 euros to anywhere in the city. The signs in the airport will tell you this so make sure you don’t get ripped off by a cabbie. We advise wearing a seatbelt. The bus costs just six euros. Where to stay Rome, like many other European cities is very expensive and Italian hotels are no exception.

the other side

However, Rome is filled with apartments to rent. Check out flipkey.com, which is affiliated with Trip Advisor, so you can expect in-depth reviews of each place. You can get two bed apartments from as little as 50 euros per night. It also gives you the added benefit of having somewhere to kick back during the hot afternoons before heading out for an aperitivo. The best view We were definitely going the wrong way when we stumbled up Via Garibaldi away from Trastevere but we did find one of the most breathtaking views of the city. The Fontanone del Gianicolo is off the grid when it comes to tourists and is well worth the climb. We suggest starting there and walking down to Trastevere. See more snaps from our time in Rome @ theothersidemag. co.uk

Photograph by Brenna Duncan

I scream, you scream, we all scream, for ice scream By Cara Waters

For the food obsessed, those visits to the Colosseum and Vatican while in Rome are merely a means of filling in time between meals. After all this is the way the locals treat their city. For them, St Peterâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Basilica is an ancient church but also just around the corner from a great pizza store while the Pantheon serves as a landmark for their daily espresso pit stop. Follow the locals and you will discover that the ancient city is heaving with great places to eat. Rome has it all, from humble trattorias where you can slurp spaghetti over a paper table cloth to designer artiginale gelati stores. Turn over for our tips for the best places to eat your way through your Roman holiday. Âť

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when in rome

Roscioli

Via del Glubbonard 21 Roscioli conjures up the best carbonara and cacio e pepe I have ever tasted. Set in a gorgeous little deli Roscioli morphs into a small restaurant at the rear of the store where the chefs plate up eggy, golden carbonara flecked with great chunks of crispy, salty guanciale and pasta cooked to a perfect texture. The cacio e pepe (literally cheese and pepper) displays that magical alchemy of pecorino cheese, oil and water combined to create a creamy, rich sauce with the added kick of freshly grated pepper.

ER BUCHETTO

Via del Viminale 2F Er Buchetto is dedicated solely to selling porchetta. Alessandro Fioravanti is owner, operator, chef and waiter just like his father Franco before. His porchetta is seasoned in a special mix of spices before being slow roasted for four hours. The entire body of the pig sits in the restaurant window and Alessandro simply carves pieces off for customers serving the slices on a plate or in a crusty roll. The salty, succulent slices of pig are a match made in heaven with a glass of red wine. Whatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s more, it is super cheap.

Pizzarium

via della Meloria 43 At Pizzarium you have to stand to eat your pizza and the location is a bit out of the way but the pizza is top notch. The puffy, light Napoli style pizza is made on site and the staff use scissors to cut it off and serve it a taglio (by the slice). The pizza is sold by weight and offers interesting topping choices from pea and prosciutto to ham with stracciatella. Who knew peas could be so good on pizzas? Pizzarium also sells beers and wine if you want to make an evening of it.

the other side

i caruso

Freni and Frizoni

Hostaria Romana

I Caruso may not be as well known as the legendary San Crispino but the gelati packs a punch. The location is out of the way in the centro storico’s business district and

Freni and Frizoni is not actually a restaurant, rather it is one of Rome’s best bars. However, it does also serve an extensive and free apertivo buffet between 7pm and 10pm. Located in an old garage that gives the bar its name (it means brakes and clutches in English) the seriously hip crowd spills out onto a huge outdoor patio overlooking the Tiber river. Cocktails here are made with painstaking love to the extent it was tempting to ask the bar staff to hurry up. My vote went to the Franzi mash, a mixture of porto tawny, fresh pineapple and lemon. A drink purchase entitles you to participate in the Roman apertivo tradition and to tuck into crudites with hommus and tziaki followed by salads loaded with grilled cauliflowers, rice and chickpeas.

Hostaria Romana is the place to go if you are looking for an authentic Roman trattoria, from its menu of Roman classics to the graffiti on the walls, the place oozes atmosphere. The antipasta selection features grilled zucchini, a wodge of stracciatella alongside salami and boquerones (little white tasty fishes to you and me). Carbonara is a specialty here and the bowl of pasta is mixed at the table with egg (never cream) and flecks of salty guanicole. Another option is a huge bowl of the amatriciana, which is on the subtle side of spicy with a great tomato-based sauce. It doesn’t hurt that the house red wine is extremely quaffable.

Via Collina 13-15

“You can watch them make the gelato through the glass” the selection of flavours is limited to only 16 at any one time but the gelati is genuinely artigianale. Everything made on-site with fresh ingredients, and you can watch them make the gelato through the glass. The strawberry is a rich, lip staining red with flecks of strawberry seeds in it. You can get tiny chocolate covered prescooped cones of gelati that are dangerously convenient.

Via del Politeama 4-6

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Via del Boccaccio 1

Cara Waters is a journalist @ Gourmet-Chick.com. Follow her on Twitter @carawaters

poetry

words: adam richmond

no 1 he went to work as usual

no 5 he went to work as usual, a trembled acceptance, and his crowbarred flippancies barring future follies and pits of despair, dug, from the flats of politeness, stretched and cracking and bleeding and seeping up and onto a fallow horizon where seeds linger in the hope of bloom and moons ripen in the shade

the other side

no 6 he went to work as usual because it was morning and he had nothing better to do

no 31 he went to work as usual muddied reflections of a time before her, hazing in the swelter of his happiness, puckering and degrading under the harsh heat of love, memories unreal for the paucity of feeling, vague and indistinct in the glare of recognition, of discovery, of her

no 40 he went to work as usual itching to fill in the blanks; skin crawling or perhaps just flushed with shame, taut and stifling captured in wax, waiting, for, if not reasons, then answers, and if not answers, then kind words

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no 42 he went to work as usual having fallen having been felled not quite full of pride, not even a bit; emptied and light, as a burning hot bulb, misted and white, waiting to crack or dim still blistering fingers and thumbs, misted and white waiting to burst, then harden. to be exposed elsewhere, all over, through his skin, muscle and into his bones, as if they could speak for him, mouth the words reveal all he was, more than bloodied parts, built from bricks of courage and wit and humility, fleshed out to be a man of substance lit, and alight and alive warm to the touch misted and white

A TWEET WITH...

Tamsin Greig The lovely Tamsin Greig took some time out to chat about trains, books and Tommy Cooper. Tamsin has been in everything from the Archers to the recent British film, Tamara Drew, as well as Green Wing, Black Books (get the DVDs) and recently Episodes with Matt Le Blanc. She is currently rehearsing a new play with Doon Mackichan which will be showing at the Royal Court Theatre during October Do you have any upcoming performances we should watch out for? I’m rehearsing a new play by April de Angelis at the Royal Court theatre called ‘Jumpy’, and learning my lines on the tube at the moment. I get some right funny looks and then remember that I’m mumbling to myself.

Stage or TV? Both! And movies please. What is your favourite theatre venue in London? The Swan Theatre in Stratford is amazing. What are you enjoying on TV at the moment? Field of Blood recently. It is fantastic. Grimey, beautifully performed, well told, authentically 80’s.

Where’s your favourite place in London? The Whispering Gallery in St Paul’s cathedral. Can you keep a secret? Tell me one and find out. Hemingway said, “If you want to know if you can trust someone, trust them.”

What, if anything, are you reading at the moment? Just finished The Hand that first Held Mine by Maggie O’Farrell, Where do you take your just started Living Dolls by husband for a treat? Natasha Walters. Both brilliant. Oh, probably Barnsley House in Gloucestershire, it is beautiful. What’s your ideal dinner party line-up? Which fictional character do Bob Dylan, Rowan Williams, Sir you think you would be? Ken Robinson, Jo Brand, David Marge Simpson. Hare, Karen Armstrong, and Dylan Moran. Which show are you most proud of performing in? How do you get to work? The Diary if Anne Frank for By tube. Unlike most Londoners the BBC, in which I played her I love the tube! And I love mother, Edith. reading on trains.

the other side

What inspired you to get into acting in comedies? It was a graceful accident. The inspiration was somebody else’s. I’m a very serious actor. Do you have a comedy hero? Tommy Cooper. We’re you always the class clown at school? Not at all. I was the class nerd. Swotty, obedient, terrified, and never picked for team sports involving balls. How the hell did ITV win TV channel of the year? Downton Abbey. Tweet us @theothersidemag

An Other Side adventure 1. You finish the mag and relax into your brand new Chesterfield sofa with a glass of Nesquik. Ready for Saturday night. Suddenly Boggins jumps on you and the brown leather is coated in yellowy mess.

5. Inside the club you sit back on one of their fine Chesterfield sofas thinking, these are meant for pubs not my flat.

If you think “Oops, I’ll get that off in the morning, I’m off to a speakeasy“ go to 4.

6. Your concern for your fellow Londoner is evident and the zombie bouncer begins hacking at the queue. This is why you watched Shaun & Dawn of the dead.

Or if it’s “Shit. Now where will I sit to watch X Factor USA“ go to 2. 2. You scrub like crazy, tears dripping into the quality leather, the top layer rubs off and you collapse in a heap. If you think “Fuck it, I’m wasting my life”, pour the rest of your Nesquik on the sofa and head to that speakeasy, go to 5. If you can’t help the tears and continue to scrub go to 3. 3. You find yourself in Westfield still crying when all the lights go out. Zombies are coming toward you. You run for cover but it’s too late.

You’ve arrived, go directly to 8.

You pick up your weapon and get at the Zombies, saving London. Go to 8. 8. Finding yourself back home you realise you’ve had the time of your life this evening. Looking around, you realise it was all thanks to TOS. It was just a shame we weren’t there to advise you against the Chesterfield – they’re for the pub. We could have been there though, all you gotta do is subscribe. £12 for a year. We’ll even throw in a limited edition oyster card wallet for you. Do it now!

You made all the wrong choices in life and now you are being mauled by zombies. 4. Good work sailor. That‘s the spirit. Sod the Chesterfield. There’s more to life. Didn’t TOS suggest this place? But there’s a mean looking bouncer, looking a bit unwell. Are you on the list mate? If you nonchalantly stroll past him with a “Do you know who I am ?” Go to 5. If you realise he is clearly a zombie and make a dash for it go to 6. If you cry off and start thinking about your Nesquik sodden Chesterfield go back to 3.

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