Haringey Independent | Tom Letts

The festive season

Mon, 01 Sep 2008 09:41:28 +0100

Last weekend was Reading weekend. A certain percentage of London’s jubilant/distraught teenage population, exam results in hand, made the pilgrimage to the music festival.

Bugs take flight

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 10:18:17 +0100

At the time of writing I’m hurtling through the air in a glorified tin can. The air is cool and recycled - it feels artificial as it seamlessly hits the back of my throat. I’m trying not to think about how many different passengers aboard this flight this air has already passed through.

Neighbours anyone?

Mon, 30 Jun 2008 18:41:00 +0100

I like a party me, and so under no foreseeable circumstance would I ever miss the annual Park Avenue South street party. It has all the ingredients to make it an interesting and enjoyable evening - food, drink, a bouncy castle and middle aged people dancing. Much planning had evidently gone into this year’s event - the food was varied and abundant, the raffle prizes were all well appreciated and all seemed to run as was planned.

A dark lining to a silver cloud.

Mon, 16 Jun 2008 20:21:00 +0100

It’s been a long time coming, but exams are over, for the summer at least. Those of us who have recently completed our GCSE’s aren’t obligated to return to school until September, which seems an age away. The prospective summer lies ahead of us almost indefinitely, and once the novelty of not having school wears off, one is susceptible to serious boredom.

Big Brother - A scourge on society.

Thu, 05 Jun 2008 18:56:00 +0100

Readers, this is serious. Lock up your televisions. Do it now, or the inevitable will happen. If you allow yourself the opportunity to be comfortable on the sofa in front of the television at 9pm, then you will fall victim to the allure of Big Brother. Even the strongest willed have no hope.

All hail Boris Johnson.

Fri, 30 May 2008 15:08:00 +0100

All hail Boris Johnson, my new favourite scapegoat. Let us, as Londoners, congratulate ourselves on our ineptitude. I understand that writing this may thrust me into the claws of derision, but I don’t care - last week I waited over forty minutes for a 144 to arrive at Turnpike Lane - it must have been Bojo’s fault.

I'm so tired I can't think.

Wed, 28 May 2008 14:06:00 +0100

At the time of writing it’s three in the morning. I’m so tired that my eyelids are beginning to succumb to the enticing lure of gravity. On the right side of me are a couple of half finished Pro Plus packets and several empty coffee mugs. To my left is an open maths textbook, a pencil case and some illegible notes I have written to aid my revision. No, what I am doing isn’t revision, because that would suggest I have already learned all these intimidating equations. No, this is learning. From scratch. This is last minute, etch-it-into-your-cerebral-cortex kind of work, and it’s not fun.

A sitting cliché?

Wed, 28 May 2008 12:21:00 +0100

The other day, I was the victim of an unprovoked and vaguely insulting torrent of abuse from a complete stranger. While minding my own business sitting outside a Crouch End café, a just-about-middle-aged woman approached me and told me how pathetic I was. Admittedly, she was probably right.