I'm covertly eyeing a group of spirited twenty-somethings animatedly huddled around a table in a coffee shop on Hollywood Boulevard. They're impossibly stylish, pulchritudinous and oozing from their being is that very American sense of self-belief that most British either lack or are reluctant to display for fear of reproach. With this lot, it's more confidence than rodomontade. Their effusiveness is infectious, and highly entertaining while observed over the rim of my Americano.... Read More
The other day while waiting in the queue at a train station I happened upon the clock on the wall that, stuck to its face, had a note that read: 'Please be advised that this clock is 3 minutes slow'. This, of course, seemed absurd and immediately struck me that its typical of what's wrong with people and organisations these days. In the time it took to write and attach the note, someone could have pootled across the concourse to buy some batteries from the shop and corrected the time. I told this story to MB on the phone who found it equally perturbing before the chat turned to this play I've written. She'd read the script, since I had her in mind for one of the parts.... Read More
According to Baudelaire, in the city, as in the desert, there is something which fortifies and fashions the heart of man, that is when it does not deprave or enfeeble him. Never has an adage been so pertinent as when applied to the city I live; London, or as Daniel Defoe put it, this great and monstrous thing.
Nearly ten years ago I was commissioned to write a piece about this great and monstrous thing for a magazine. In my heart I wanted to write a love letter to the city. But to write honestly at that time, it turned out to be a flawed admission of affection to the capital rather than buoyant proclamation of endless devotion. As although the place creates resounding emotions and allures people with its amorous charms, it can just as easily break your heart.... Read More