London can be frustrating: for one, it's nowhere near Oliver; then it's enormous and I can't even sneak out of work in town to go see the Pains of Being Pure at Heart play an in-store show in Shoreditch; and finally, it's got pubs where you can't get pissed for less than £200. But on Tuesday night, after a depressing day at work, I was walking down Brixton Hill in the freezing cold, hands in pockets, and as I turned right to get to the Windmill, it occurred to me that for most people this was just another Tuesday night and for me it was the Tuesday night I was going to see Vivian Girls, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart (unexpectedly!) and Betty and the Werewolves, just 20 minutes away from my flat, safe from the hipsters, surrounded by friends, practically submerged in reasonably-priced vodka. It was amazing, my head's still buzzing, even now. Two hours' worth of pop moments felt and understood so deeply, smiled so widely, danced so hard - all this means that I need to love London forever.
Here's another lovely song for Olliepops, a little story about the bright things he's bound to see in his life:
Airport Girl, 'Shine Like Stars'
The populist paradox
1 day ago