A Weekend in East London

I bought my little Canonet 28 (pictured above)  for £8 in a charity shop on Whiteladies. I wanted to challenge myself with an uber analogue camera because I thought it might help me take better pictures in general. Unfortunately, I took an entire roll of film without feeding it through properly so my first experiment was a complete disaster; I mourn the loss of those black and white snaps more than I should. However, I didn't let it defeat me and VOILA we have a complete roll of photos. I need to work on the focus a bit more, but I'm just so pleased that none of them came out dark and shadowy. These are completely naked, no edits just the whimsy fuzz of sunshine and feeling content. 

It felt very indulgent to use an entire roll of film for one weekend, but I was so desperate to find out if the camera was working. These are from a little London weekend break a few weeks ago. I went to a film workshop on the South Bank and then wandered down to the river towards Tower Hamlets with my coz. The Sunday morning was so fine. We walked through Brick Lane up to Columbia Rd Flower Market where we basked in the sunshine, listened to street artists and marvelled at the flowers. I can't believe that it's taken me this long to properly explore East London - it's where my people are at! I felt so at home. I kept pointing out houses that I'd like to live in and parks that I'd like to sit in and cafes and bars I'd like to drink in. It was like inspiration overload. There was also such a huge sense of community that I feel is often missing from the parts of London I often frequent and it's given me so much hope that moving to the capital next year doesn't have to be soulless and corporate. I love how cultures smash together in smells and sights and sounds. I felt proud and excited. More importantly, they make really good coffee. 

The Stay-cation

There's something about breakfast in bed that makes an ordinary day feel spectacular. Even if there's no one to bring it up for you, it's still a cosy feeling to wander downstairs make some yummy eggs and then bring them back to your mess of blankets and books. I was supposed to be in Paris last weekend but unfortunately my plans fell through. Instead, I set about making being at home as special as possible. I put some film into my camera, spent a few days in London wandering around the galleries, bought some sharp pencils to write with, had a coffee in Santa Fe, wrote letters, devoured novels in a duvet cocoon and went for a photowalk in the woods. Sometimes being at home is enough. It's not Paris, but it's more than enough. 

Muddy Beaches

Three generations of women meander along the muddy beach, commenting on the new arty houses that contain the pebbles and sea. It's a place to mark time and the passing of dreams. Many a muddy memory flashes before our eyes, but it is mostly the sunshine that dominates and the wind hinting at the new season to come. It's warm but it's not still. We feel ever so slightly outrageous but instead of eating ice-cream, we're dreaming of futures in scandinavian builds, peeping in at the windows and commenting on the floorboards. Clearly, that big hearted dreamer spirit is as hereditary as our little legs. 

Life Lately: Northern Ireland

I can't quite believe that it's been a whole month since this lil' spontaneous trip. So five days before my last exam (EVER) I got on an early morning plane to Northern Ireland. It felt gloriously outrageous and turned out to be exactly what the doctor ordered. I've never been to the Emerald Isle before and it really is very green, let me tell ya. Four days spent in a little bungalow in Portstewart, drinking lots of tea, reading Patrick Melrose novels, eating well, sleeping in, jogging, barbecuing on the beach, praising the Lord, reading the bible, meeting new people, sunbathing and putting the world to right in nautical inspired armchairs. The highlights for me were Giants Causeway in the late-afternoon sun and spending time with friends who share the same beliefs/values/perspectives as myself.  It was pretty gurt-lush. Also, I'm a sucker for a Northern Irish accent. Anyone else? 

Nostalgia

I am guilty of indulging in nostalgia before the season warrants it. There's something so dreamy and precious about these last few days; throw in a bit of a sunshine and its almost unbearable. I have that familiar itch to throw my arms around the city and its inhabitants. I oscillate between loving and loathing my work, finding moments of inspiration in sterile computer rooms before rushing out to the park so I can lie in the sun and pretend that it's all over already. Everyone is responding differently: some are munching through packets of digestives, huddled in a study-cave, papering their walls with flash-cards and diagrams, others have lost the will to live, the phrase 'I think I did more work for my GCSEs than I'll be doing for my finals' thrown around, some are finished and are scampering around the country on numerous mini-adventures, people like myself are trying to maintain a balance, our simmering spontaneity breaking through at just the right moments. Work hard, play hard, that's the motto. Either way, I cannot help but notice, that despite all the stress, uncertainty and flatness, these are some of the happiest moments of my time here. 

Got that Friday Feeling

A little word of solidarity to all those who are in the middle of exams and are in danger of greeting the next person who says 'you're nearly done'/'not long now' with that grimacing-get-lost smile. You're awesome, keep going, I feel your pain. 

COFFEE DIARY: Fernandez and Wells

As you turn off Regentstr. into Beakstr. a delicious tranquility breezes along the bricks and catches its breath right outside this understated cafe. So understated in fact, that I almost missed it completely. I'd asked a few friends to recommend me their favourite London coffee haunts and the Fernandez and Wells chain was definitely the winner. In terms of style it reminded me a lot of Monmouth Coffee sans communal seating. It was also very peaceful when I arrived and I was able to get a prime-people-watching spot by the window. I was served by possible the friendliest Barista in London, it was his first day on the job and his enthusiasm was infectious. If you're reading this Barista-man, THANK YOU FOR HAVING SUCH A SUNNY DISPOSITION. Anyway, I wasn't sure what to have, I said I was huge Flat White fan and was told to try the Stumpy. Little did I know that this little coffee beverage actually originates from the cafe on Beakstr. so I definitely made the right choice. It is essentially a small Flat White and slightly stronger than a Cortado. The coffee was exquisite. As for the cafe itself, it's the perfect place for a quiet catch-up with a friend or a chance to catch up on your reading/notetaking. I really enjoyed it and will definitely be returning, as well as checking out the other stores around the city. 

London Perspectives

“Go where we may, rest where we will,

Eternal London haunts us still.” 

― Thomas Moore

When I look at photographs of London on pinterest they all seem rather shiny and there never seems to be anyone out and about. I took these on a quick stop-over during the Easter holidays and I'm really pleased with how they turned out. They reflect what I see. My London is busy and hectic, grainy and dirty. I love that one quick turn into a side-street can shift the pace from chaotic-commuter to bumbling-bruncher. It has the reputation of being unfriendly, yet London contains some of my favourite strangers; from the Cafe Nero barista at Waterloo station, to moleskine man in Foyles on the Southbank, to the ticket lady at Charing Cross, to the eccentric playwright in the Royal Court Bookshop and the barista on Beakstr. whose first-day-on-the-job enthusiasm made the sun shine brighter and the coffee taste sweeter. The city has always been a constant in my life and though I have never called it my home, I have lived many a significant moment within it's geography. Not all these moments have been positive; some of the darkest seasons in my life have been very much synchronised with the South West train service up to Waterloo. But it has also spurred most of my childhood dreams from prima ballerina, to painter, to writer and now actress; all of which have been explored among the plethora of London theatres, galleries and bookshops. More recently the city has become a place to catch-up with special friends, the ones that help you put the world right, whose sofa-bed soaks up the tears of lonely lostness and dinner time conversation reminds you that a belly-laugh is one of your five a day. Whatever the next few months and years hold for me, I know that London will be a part of it. I may never call it home, but it will always be a city of unrelenting significance. 

Berliner Winter

I always think the end of February marks the end of Winter. This tends to be completely unfounded, seeing as it's totally possible for it to snow and be freezing cold and miserable in March. Nevertheless, old habits ring true. So, to celebrate what my brain considers to be the end of Winter, I thought I'd share some wintery photos from my trip to Berlin in January. It wasquite a spontaneous move, I woke up on boxing day to an email from Kayak seducing me with a £30 return flight and before I knew it I had booked myself a five-day rendezvous with the German capital.

The city was mostly dark and grey, peppered with patches of cafe-cosiness and framed by icy exteriors. There were trips to the theatre, after-show parties on the K-damm, Kaiserschmarrn and Chopin recitals in Charlottenburg apartments, Sunday-brunching-fleamarket flirtations, slow-crunching strolls along freshly dusted pavements,  the lonely coolness of Alexanderplatz in January and plenty of mug-holding, wine-drinking catch-ups with friends old and new. Despite the main purpose of the trip being 'research' for my dissertation, it quickly became clear that what I needed most of all was to feel brave again. I needed to remember that person who arrived in the city alone, sleeping on the couch of a stranger and left with a family of friends and a sense of belonging. It was good to get away and gain perspective, which is often so difficult to find in the hibernation months. I'm also still desperately attached to Berlin itself and keep dreaming of a (slightly warmer) repeat one weekend very soon. 

COFFEE DIARY: The Barn

Just before Christmas I was asked to translate this article about a new Prenzlauerberg Cafe for one

of my translation classes. The owner, who is rather unfairly nicknamed a 'coffee nazi', was criticised for his 'purist -not to say militant approach to coffee drinking'. If you were thinking of using this cafe as a moving office or a place to meet with other mums and toddlers, then think again. Pushchairs, laptops and loud phone calls are banned, as well as spoons, sugar and extra milk. Naturally, upon reading this article I was intrigued and made sure that I stopped by on my recent trip to Berlin.  I was already a fan of The Barn's coffee expertise, but this place really takes the term 'coffee-snob' one step further.

I turned up on a snowy weekday afternoon and was strangely comforted by the slick, lab-like interior. It's a large space and unlike a lot of cafes in Berlin, exudes an unusual tranquility. Perhaps this has something to do with the no-laptop, no-pushchair rule. I went for my standard Flat White order, but I would like to return and check out their drip-filter because those machines looked pretty impressive. Everything was timed and presented to perfection. My only complaint was the lack of toilet facilities, which seemed a little ridiculous. Nevertheless, I think the general controversy around the place is unfounded. There are certainly enough Bio-Mummy and Laptop friendly cafes in Berlin to compensate for one cafe owner putting his foot down. Sometimes people just want to sit quietly and sip their espresso, which is exactly what Ralf Rüller facilitates. 

A Softer Side of the Capital

These photographs have been sitting in a folder on my computer for far too long. After a long, cold and wet start to the year, I cannot help but lean forward into spring-time sentimentality. Even though these pictures are from the past, they give me a glimpse of what is to come. Life might be throwing me lemons and heartache and unsharpened pencils, but I have never felt more hopeful. When I stop to look at the life that I'm building for myself, I'm surprised to find that it is nowhere near as pathetic or miserable as I anticipated. Inspite of the apparent emptiness, it is brimming with joyful opportunity. 

What about today makes you feel hopeful?