I’m halfway through a trial subscription to The Spectator. This post is a kind of review or maybe more of a personal field report. The decision to subscribe wasn’t random I’d been hearing about it for years, and I’d also been listening to their podcast, Coffee House Shots, which I’ve enjoyed, even when I don’t always agree with it. I signed up out of curiosity rather than loyalty. It has a reputation punchy, provocative, “the house journal of the Tory party” as some put it and I wanted to understand it from the inside. I don’t hate-read. I genuinely wanted to give it a fair go.

This isn’t the first time I’ve stepped outside my media comfort zone I wrote about that in a previous post on the 'comfortable middle'. Since then, I’ve dabbled across the spectrum: The Times, UnHerd, Novara, and now The Spectator. Each one offers a different kind of discomfort or perspective, depending on the day.

So far? I’m minded not to continue beyond the trial, but I haven’t slammed the door. It’s been an interesting window into a certain worldview, and, unexpectedly, a front-row seat to a changing of the guard. The magazine was recently bought by hedge fund billionaire Sir Paul Marshall, a man best known for backing UnHerd and GB News. The long-time editor has stepped down (I’ll admit I was relieved when he turned up at The Times instead), and in a twist which maybe some could have guessed (albeit not me), former Cabinet minister, and now Lord, Michael Gove has taken his place. It’s hard not to read the magazine now without wondering whether you’re witnessing a slow shift in tone, or the start of something more dramatic.

Clever, Clubby, Not Quite Me

Let’s start with the good. The writing is excellent fluent, confident, and often very funny. There’s a wide range of contributors and content, and while the politics dominates, there’s also plenty on art, culture, travel, books, and more. I’ve particularly enjoyed the specialist features and reviews often with a distinctively conservative slant, but written with style and substance. A few pieces have genuinely held my attention from start to finish, which is more than I can say for most newspapers. The recently piece on the The conservatism of Thomas the Tank Engine, made me smile and think.

But even when I’ve enjoyed it, I’ve rarely felt like the intended reader. There’s a clubbiness to the tone, a sense that you’re listening in on a conversation among old friends who already agree about most things. A knowingness. Occasionally it’s charming, but mostly it makes you feel like a guest at someone else’s golf club.

Critics have described The Spectator as the Conservatives’ parish magazine, and that’s about right. Its audience isn’t mass-market. It's party donors, Westminster insiders, opinion columnists. That’s not a problem in itself. But if you’re trying to read outside your bubble, it helps if the bubble you're peering into occasionally acknowledges you exist.

Writers vs. Readers

The biggest surprise, and not a pleasant one, has been the comments. While the articles are often nuanced or ironic, the readers below the line are fuming. It’s not universal, but it’s hard to ignore the tone: bitter, aggressive, and especially fixated on immigration and woke!

I’m not blind to the fact that immigration is a significant issue for many people, and I don’t think it should be off-limits in political discussion. But the sheer frequency and fury of the comments feels unhealthy, like the needle’s stuck. It turns what might be a thoughtful piece on housing or public services into another excuse to rage against migrants, “elites,” or Sadiq Khan. I came looking for a window into the conservative mind; what I often found was a vent.

This disconnect between the magazine’s carefully calibrated voice and the rage of its readers has been noted by others too. One writer described it as a place where “enclaves of moderation and thoughtfulness” survive in a “fraternity house pummelling Muslims and high-fiving on Brexit”. That’s perhaps unfair to the writers, some of whom clearly put in the work to provoke rather than inflame, but it does capture the atmosphere of the comment sections pretty well.

The Vibe: Everything Is Broken

There’s a broader mood that runs through the magazine, and it’s one of decline. Not just cultural decline, but institutional, moral, even architectural. Parliament is broken. The BBC is broken. Cities are broken. Humour is broken. Britain itself may or may not be salvageable, depending on the columnist.

This sort of gloom can be seductive (its interesting it comes up a lot in Novara Media as well), especially if you’re middle-aged and nostalgic for a time when the bins got emptied, the trains ran on time, and you still knew how your remote worked. But after a while, it starts to feel like a pose. There’s an air of performative collapse, as if simply noticing how terrible everything is confers some kind of moral clarity.

Academics and journalists have flagged this tone too, suggesting that under its new owner, the magazine might lean further into this worldview. Paul Marshall’s other media ventures, including GB News, thrive on cultural pessimism. So far, The Spectator hasn’t gone full froth, but you can feel the gravity pulling. It’s a magazine that knows what its audience fears, and knows how to stoke it.

The Sale and the New Guard

This isn’t just speculation. In September 2024, The Spectator was sold to Old Queen Street Ventures, a company owned by Marshall. The previous chairman, Andrew Neil, resigned immediately, expressing concern about editorial independence. Nelson followed soon after.

Marshall insists the magazine will remain editorially independent, with separate structures from his other holdings. But critics point out that you don’t spend £100 million on a niche weekly magazine unless you have a mission. As The Guardian noted, Marshall seems to be building something: a media ecosystem for the right. Whether The Spectator retains its sceptical, clubbable voice, or becomes part of a more combative campaign, remains to be seen.

I didn’t expect my little trial subscription to land me in the middle of a live case study in British media ownership, and to be honest I am not qualified to comment much more. But maybe it’s been an interesting time to do a trial.

So, Will I Stick With It and Would I Recommend It?

Probably not. I’ll keep reading until the trial ends – partly out of curiosity, partly to see how the Gove era unfolds – but it doesn’t feel like home, which might be good thing in a way. I don’t mind reading things I disagree with; I think that’s healthy. And in truth, I’ve been enjoying the broader habit of reading more widely, even when I find myself raising an eyebrow or muttering at the screen. It's become part of how I make sense of the moment we're in.

Still, The Spectator itself doesn’t quite sit right. The tone – especially among its commentariat – feels too sour, too certain, too locked into a narrative of decline. And I can’t help but wonder whether Paul Marshall sees UnHerd as the more open, exploratory arm of his media portfolio, and The Spectator as the comfort zone for his fellow conservatives, perhaps with a nudge further to the right.

Would I recommend it? That depends. If you’re a conservative or some other flavour of right-wing, then yes although let’s be honest, you probably already read it and don’t need a lecture from me (a slightly confused centrist who hasn’t had a lot of sleep in five years and should concentrate on his real job!). For centrists like myself, maybe. There’s good writing and some interesting cultural coverage, but you may find the same sticking points I did. As for anyone fully committed to socialism, I can only imagine subscribing as a form of opposition research and even then, there are probably better uses of your time.

So what next for me? Maybe the London Review of Books, though I’ve never made it through a whole article. There’s a first time for everything. More realistically, I’m tempted by The Economist sometimes, frustrating, but sharp, globally minded, and not overly tribal. Alistair Campbell keeps pushing The New European, but to be honest, part of the whole process was to get away from the easy listening of The Rest is Politics.

In the meantime, I’d love recommendations. What do you read to challenge or comfort your worldview?

Oh gosh, aren't Chris’s posts earnest and serious? I realise that is somewhat the vibe here on Substack, but everyone needs to let their hair down. I know for a fact Chris has... in the long ago past. Otherwise, why would I still call him my friend, with his silly left-leaning views and fondness for East London?

When people say London’s too expensive, what they really mean is they’ve been drinking in the wrong postcode. Step away from the overcrowded rooftop with “views” of a Pret signage and into the world of West End bars—those serene little pockets of poured velvet and polished glassware where the martinis are made tableside and the loos have coat-hooks made of brushed gold.

Here, then, are five establishments in which to sip, recline, plot, and—if one must—atone.

The Connaught Bar

Carlos Place, Mayfair, London W1K 2AL

The Connaught doesn’t serve cocktails. It serves ceremony. Tucked inside the iconic hotel, this bar is a masterclass in everything the rest of London is trying far too hard to be: elegant, intimate, and just the right side of theatrical. The martini trolley alone deserves its own BAFTA. If you haven’t been yet, what exactly have you been doing with your evenings?

What to order: A dry martini with a flourish of Amalfi bitters.
What to wear: Anything that makes you feel like an extra in The Crown.

Dukes Bar

35 St James's Place, London SW1A 1NY

Home of the famous martini that inspired James Bond and ended more evenings than we care to count. At Dukes, you don’t just get a drink—you get a warning. “Two per person,” they say, with the weariness of someone who’s seen what happens to those who ignore it. The whole place smells faintly of cedarwood, scandal, and well-earned self-delusion.

What to order: The Vesper. Sip slowly. Then stand up very, very carefully.
Vibe: If MI6 ran a gentleman’s club with strong opinions on vermouth.

The American Bar at The Stafford

16-18 St James's Place, London SW1A 1NJ

Less well known than its glitzier cousins, and all the better for it. It’s an odd but charming blend: leather armchairs, baseball memorabilia, bourbon neat, and waiters who remember your name even when you don’t. A perfect spot for a third date or a discreet exit strategy from your fourth.

What to order: A Sazerac, ideally while making a mild declaration of love.
Best time to go: Weeknights, after 9pm, when the ghosts come out.

Claridge’s Bar

Brook Street, Mayfair, London W1K 4HR

Impossibly polished and gloriously restrained. If The Connaught is a poem, Claridge’s is a signature scent—quiet, complex, and lingering. This is where billionaires come to feel subtle. You’ll sit on a banquette so plush it may well sigh as you settle in.

What to order: A glass of something French and expensive. Let the bartender decide.
Dress code: Not officially required, but spiritually: immaculate.

Bar Termini

7 Old Compton Street, Soho, London W1D 5JE

One must slum it occasionally. It builds character. Bar Termini is a postage-stamp-sized café-bar hybrid serving impossibly good Negronis and even better espressos. It’s where east London creatives come to pretend they’ve always liked Soho, and where Tarquin once accidentally joined an after-hours gallery opening by ordering a drink “with a narrative arc.”

What to order: Negroni Rosato. Trust the bottle.
Stay duration: Under 45 minutes, ideally just long enough to miss the last Central line train on purpose.

Final Thoughts

London is not short on places to drink. But these aren’t just bars—they’re little temples to elegance, memory, and mild intoxication. Whether you’re in need of a first-date miracle or somewhere to raise a glass to your own cleverness, this list will see you through.

Next up: Tarquin shops for a smoking jacket. One that whispers old money but not unpleasant views about the gold standard. Watch this space.

If you’re looking for some great books about London, I hope you enjoy these suggestions.

Something’s shifted recently. Violet, finally started sleeping properly now she’s five!!! With the extra rest (touch wood it lasts), my brain seems to have turned back on. I’ve been working harder, yes, but I’ve also found time to read again. At the moment I’m racing through Get In (yes, I know, everyone else read it about two months ago) its great.

As I got back into reading, I noticed something (maybe not surprisingly given the nature of the blog), many of the books I’ve loved over the years are tied to London.

So this post is a personal list of books that really capture the spirit of London. They’re not necessarily the ‘greatest’ or most famous London books (though some are), but each one offers a distinctive glimpse into the city's past, present, or future. It's a live list, and I am going to update it as I remember a book, get told to take one of them as it's rubbish by someone who makes a good point, or I finally read one I should have. Please feel free to leave comments - but try and be kind, Substack is full of various serious writers and readers, I am not one of them.

London: The Biography, by Peter Ackroyd

A sweeping history that reads more like a novel than a textbook, Peter Ackroyd's London treats the city as a living, breathing organism. From Roman foundations to Blitz bombings and beyond, it’s a book to dip into or devour whole. Rich with anecdotes, gossip, and the odd ghost, it brings centuries of London life vividly to the surface.

I had to have this first, not only did everyone vaguely involved in the built environment buy it (we had two in our office at one stage), but I also spent a hilarious evening in Clerkenwell with a very drunk Peter Acyroyd many years ago. Which ended, as he was being dragged away by his publicist, with him saying to my friend ‘Oh no, you’re too pretty to be an account, Andy.’ It still makes me smile.

Link to Amazon here

Rivers of London (series) by Ben Aaronovitch

Possibly not great literature, but enormously fun and one of my favourite series. This magical police procedural introduces us to Peter Grant, a rookie Met officer who gets recruited into a special unit dealing with supernatural crime. The city buzzes through every page, with locations from Covent Garden to Hampstead Heath turned into playgrounds for river gods, ghosts, and wizards. London has never felt so enchantingly odd.

I know there are lots of books that mesh London and magic, but this series seems to do it with a gentle hand; it still feels like your London, but with a bit of extra magic under the surface.

Link to Amazon here 1

Oliver Twist, by Charles Dickens

A classic for a reason. Dickens paints a vivid picture of Victorian London at its grimiest—from workhouses to thieves’ dens, this is a city of squalor, cunning, and unexpected kindness. Fagin, Bill Sikes, the Artful Dodger: these characters are London folklore now. Gritty but full of heart.

Most of the list is modern and some would say ‘easy reading’, but I don’t think you can talk about London books without Dickens.

Link to Amazon here

Brick Lane, by Monica Ali

A quieter, more interior story, but a powerful one. Nazneen arrives in London from Bangladesh and slowly makes a life for herself in Tower Hamlets. Through her eyes, we see a city that is confusing, sometimes cruel, but ultimately transformative. Brick Lane becomes more than just a street, it’s a whole world.

I don’t have anything in common with the main character, since I am a big white guy, but I read it just after moving to the top of Brick Lane in about 2005, and sharing the same space with a character was intriguing.

Link to Amazon here

Caledonian Road, by Andrew O'Hagan

A recent addition and a razor-sharp take on class, privilege, and public performance in modern London. O’Hagan's novel follows a celebrity intellectual whose carefully constructed world starts to crumble. It’s deeply rooted in North London, capturing the city’s contradictions with wit, style, and a knowing eye for the cultural circus.

Link to Amazon here

Capital, by John Lanchester

Set on a single south London street during the 2008 financial crash, this novel shows a city shaped by money, migration, and quiet drama. A banker, a corner shop owner, a traffic warden, a builder, an old woman who remembers when houses cost a few thousand quid, all are caught in the current. Smart, humane, and sneakily funny.

Link to Amazon here

London, by Edward Rutherfurd

If Peter Ackroyd feels like a sprawling essay, Rutherfurd’s London is more like a family saga that happens to stretch over 2,000 years. Accessible, engaging, and just the right level of soapy in places, it’s a good option for anyone who prefers their history with a strong storyline and a lot of human drama.

I was in two minds about including this. When it first came out, I loved it, in part due to it ‘soapy / accessibility’, I read it twice. But several people have said it's not great writing, and I must say I didn’t enjoy it so much when I reread earlier in the year - somewhat predictable plots. But I think for a first-time reader or a holiday book, it holds its own (although get it on Kindle as it’s massive!)

Link to Amazon here

The Peripheral, by William Gibson

Not strictly a London novel, but one of the most fascinating depictions of a future London I’ve read. Gibson imagines a city hollowed out by climate change and tech-driven elitism, beautiful, eerie, and chillingly plausible. Worth a look if you're into speculative fiction with real-world bite.

I think Gibson is still one of the very best SF writers in the world. The jackpot series is far better than the earlier BlueAnt trilogy. Also, the TV show is excellent, London isn't quite as amazing, but still great.

Link to Amazon here

Tabby McTat, by Julia Donaldson

Since the blog is at least in part about being a dad, I’ve added a children’s book. Although to be honest I love it myself. A classic from the Donaldson/Scheffler dream team, Tabby McTat is the heartwarming story of a busker’s cat who gets separated from his owner and finds a new life, only to be torn between two homes.

Like a lot of parents, I’ve spent far too long trying to work out exactly where it’s set, my best guess is a slightly idealised version of Islington, with its leafy squares, cafés and buskers on every corner. A gentle, warm story about belonging, change, and the comforting muddle of city life. The TV adaption is also brilliant.

Link to Amazon here

London Fields, by Martin Amis

Despite the title, this isn’t really set in London Fields — though it does borrow the name and the atmosphere of a scruffier, more paranoid London that now feels like ancient history. The plot (a murder mystery of sorts) unfolds in a city teetering on the edge of collapse, narrated by a blocked American writer who’s just about holding it together. It’s chaotic, cynical, and very Amis — full of grotesques, poisoned relationships, and brilliantly sharp prose. Even if the geography’s a bit of a red herring, it still captures a particular late-20th-century London mood that lingers, somewhere between the bins and the conspiracy theories.

Link to Amazon here

Better London Reading Lists

There are plenty of other London books on the list, most of which are longer, deeper, and better. Here are a few excellent ones worth exploring:

• World Book Day: Five Authors on the Books That Capture London Best (Time Out, 2025)
  A fresh list where five London-based writers pick novels and social histories that show London’s many faces. Very interesting if maybe a little worthy.

• Top 10 Books About Londoners (The Guardian, 2020)
  A thoughtful selection by historian Panikos Panayi, focusing on the lives of London’s immigrants from Roman times to today. Rich, human, and eye-opening.

• The Best London Novels: A Reading List (Londonist, updated 2025)
  A reader-curated list celebrating London novels from Dickens to the present. I think this is my favourite due to the range and accessibility.

Note: I have just put the Amazon links in to be helpful. I realise there are lots of other nice places to get books. No affiate links I promise.

This video was originally made for A London Life's YouTube channel (again a bit of a work in progress). It’s a bit rough around the edges and definitely needs some polishing – but oddly, it’s been my most popular one so far!

I recently told several friends and family about the blog, and now feel the need to make all new posts far more polished, hence the delay.

The Personal Confession – ‘How I Ended Up Here’

I should start by saying that I am not a political expert. I’m not an activist, I’ve never been out leafleting, and I don’t spend my weekends angrily posting about the state of the world. But I do have political leanings—I’m a Labour member, though I sit comfortably on the right of the party and have no real appetite for activism.

More than that, I’ve realised that my instincts have always pulled me towards the middle. Take my news consumption. Two years ago, I had a moment of self-awareness—I realised I was stuck in a bit of a silo, mostly reading The Guardian, nodding along in agreement. So, in what felt like a huge personal shift at the time, I started reading The Times. It was a conscious effort to break out of my bubble, to make sure I wasn’t just reinforcing my own views. And, in hindsight, it was also the most centrist dad move possible.

Since then, I’ve expanded further. I read UnHerd, The Spectator, The New Statesman, and Novara Media. But even as I’ve tried to push myself, I’ve noticed a pattern—if I read something from the left, I balance it with something from the right. I don’t just take in different perspectives; I instinctively counterweight them. It’s like I have an internal scale that won’t let me lean too far in either direction. And that, more than anything, tells me just how deeply embedded my centrist instincts really are.

The same thing happened with podcasts. I was an early adopter of The Rest is Politics, and I still enjoy it. I like how Alastair Campbell and Rory Stewart try to have grown-up conversations rather than shouting matches. But the more I listen, the more I wonder if the whole thing is a symptom of the problem—people like me, clinging to the idea that it’s still the late 1990s, that politics can be fixed by competent people finding sensible compromises. I want to believe that, but what if those sensible compromises are part of the reason we’re in this mess in the first place?

If I’d thought about this ten years ago, I probably wouldn’t have cared all that much. But then I became a dad. And that changed things.

How Becoming a Dad Pulled Me to the Right—And Then the Left

Having kids makes you inherently more conservative, at least in some ways. Not necessarily in the ‘Daily Mail-reading, worried-about-woke’ sense, but in the risk-averse, stability-over-everything way. Before Violet was born, I was happy with a smaller place. I owned my own flat from the age of 26, and it was enough. But after Violet arrived, Elsie and I bought a much bigger home, and with that came all the things that make you start thinking differently: schools, house prices, catchment areas, and long-term security. When you’re responsible for a child, you stop thinking in big, abstract political ideas and start focusing on the day-to-day. You just want things to work. You want competent people in charge, and you don’t have time for grand ideological battles. That’s where centrism pulls you in—it promises stability, reasonableness, a way to make the world function without everything having to be torn down and rebuilt.

But then you think about your child’s future, and suddenly, centrism feels… inadequate. Because what if the future we’re heading towards isn’t one where things stay the same, but one where they get worse? What if your child grows up in a country where they can’t afford a home, where public services are threadbare, where opportunities are worse than they were for your generation? That’s when I start to wonder: is centrism just a way of managing decline while pretending everything is fine?

The Problem: Has the Middle Failed?

Here’s the thing: for most of my life, British politics has been pretty centrist. Blair’s New Labour, Cameron’s ‘compassionate conservatism’, even the Coalition years—it was all broadly moderate. And yet, where has that left us?

Housing is unaffordable. Public services are crumbling. Inequality is rising. Climate change is worsening. If sensible, moderate, pragmatic politics was supposed to steer the ship responsibly, why does it feel like we’re sinking?

If I only cared about my own life, I could probably shrug and move on. I’ve been lucky enough to get on the housing ladder. I have a stable job. I can afford a comfortable life. But then I look at Violet and think: what about her?

What about all the other kids growing up now? Will they ever be able to buy a home? Will they have the same security that my generation did? Or are we heading towards a future where everything just slowly gets worse, and we call it ‘normal’ because it happens gradually?

That’s what unsettles me. Maybe the reason radical politics is on the rise is because people can see that the centre isn’t actually solving anything. Maybe centrism, for all its talk of competence, has been more about keeping things tolerable for people like me while failing to offer anything better for the future.

What’s the Alternative? (Or, What Do I Do With This Realisation?)

So where does that leave me? I’m not about to start marching in the streets. The idea of burning it all down and starting over doesn’t appeal, partly because I suspect it never works, but also because, as I said, I’ve got a mortgage and a school catchment area to think about. And that, if I’m honest, is exactly the problem. The system might be failing, but for people like me, it’s still just about livable. Maybe that’s why centrism persists—because for the people in charge, things aren’t bad enough to justify real change.

At the same time, I understand why the right is attractive. It offers a clear, simple vision: security, order, tradition, responsibility. There’s something reassuring in that, especially when the world feels chaotic. And then there’s the left, where I often agree with the broad goals—fairness, equality, opportunity—but find myself exhausted by the culture wars, the moral purity tests, the constant demand to prove you’re on the right side of history. There’s a part of me that wants to say, "I care, but I also have a job and a kid, and I don’t have the bandwidth to fight over terminology every five minutes."

So where does that leave me? Probably still in the middle. But I don’t want to just sit here passively. If I’m going to be centrist, I’d at least like it to be an active choice, not just a default setting. Maybe centrism needs to stand for something more than just ‘not being extreme’. Maybe it needs to be bold, not just sensible. Less about compromise for the sake of it, and more about actually fixing things—properly, not just enough to keep things ticking along.

Conclusion – Still Stuck in the Middle?

I haven’t come to any grand conclusion here. I started writing this thinking I’d either talk myself out of being a centrist or double down on why it’s the best place to be. Instead, I’ve just ended up questioning it more. Which, of course, is the most centrist thing I could have done.

So for now, I suppose I remain where I started—somewhere in the middle. But at least I’m thinking about it. And maybe that’s a start.

Or maybe its all that I don't like the Centrist Dad cliche!

A much more serious article in the FT: Why it is lonely in the political centre, by Janan Ganesh here

Ah, Mayfair. A name that conjures visions of elegance, prestige, and—dare I say—absolute perfection. When I was invited to pen this inaugural blog for A London Life, I thought, “What better place to begin than with Mayfair, the epicentre of civilisation as we know it?”

Allow me to introduce myself. I am Tarquin Montague Harpendale-Smythe—public school alumnus, property aficionado, and now something of a writer (though I’ve always said, one doesn’t write, one curates one’s thoughts). My friends describe me as "a man of taste," though I modestly suggest I am merely a product of my environment. And what an environment Mayfair is!

To those unfamiliar (though I simply cannot fathom how), Mayfair is not just a postcode but a way of life. Tucked between the bustling thoroughfares of Piccadilly and Oxford Street, it is an enclave of refinement, where the air smells faintly of success, freshly polished silver, and the distant aroma of foie gras.

Now, some people suggest Mayfair is "pricey." I find this sort of comment peculiar, like saying, “Isn’t Fortnum’s tea a bit expensive?” or, “Do you really need a third holiday home in Tuscany?” Of course, one needs these things. They are life’s essentials. Much like Mayfair itself.

Mayfair isn’t just about grand townhouses and perfectly coiffed hedgerows, though those certainly help. No, it’s about community—or at least the sort of community where one nods politely to one’s neighbours, a safe distance of several marble staircases away. Where else can you stroll to Mount Street for a perfectly tailored suit, pop into Claridge’s for a light luncheon, and still be back in time to oversee one’s portfolio?

And let us not forget the greenery! Hyde Park is just a stone’s throw away (though one wouldn’t throw in Mayfair—it’s simply not done). A morning walk through the park is invigorating, though I personally prefer a gentle canter on horseback. Or one of those excellent Boris bikes, which I think are rather quaint—though I usually send my assistant to pedal around on my behalf.

For those considering a move to Mayfair (and who wouldn’t?), let me assure you that it truly is all you need. Forget the outlying boroughs with their charming but cramped terraces and "artisanal" cafes (code for mismatched crockery and slightly burnt sourdough). Mayfair is the real London—a place where heritage meets the future and both sip champagne together.

In this series, I shall offer my insights into other corners of the capital, though I must confess: it feels a bit like comparing first growth Bordeaux to supermarket claret. I’ll do my best to summon enthusiasm. But for now, I leave you with this simple truth: Mayfair really is all you need.

Toodle-pip,
Tarquin Montague Harpendale-Smythe

P.S. If you'd like to read Chris’s rather fun little piece about the ghastly area he lives in — something called Fish Island, all characterful grit and exposed brick — it can be found here. Poor Violet. What will become of her?

This is part of our Moving to… series, diving into the character, charm, and quirks of London’s neighbourhoods. See the full collection here.

If you’ve ever wanted to live somewhere that feels like an indie music video crossed with an urban planning experiment, Hackney Wick might just be your spiritual home. Tucked neatly between Stratford’s Olympic excess and the hipster haven of London Fields, it’s where graffiti meets gastropubs, but is also a growing destination for families.

First impressions

Hackney Wick is a patchwork of contradictions. On one hand, it’s all about edgy creativity, think abandoned warehouses turned artist studios. On the other, it’s teetering on the brink of “fully gentrified,” with riverside apartments sprouting faster than you can say “artisan bakery.” The vibe is unapologetically urban, but there’s a softness to it too, thanks to the waterways crisscrossing the area.

What strikes you first is the mix: one minute, you’re dodging a group of fixie-riding hipsters on the towpath, or loud Essex boys out on Friday night, the next, you’re marvelling at a pensioner tending their canal boat garden.

The highlights

Hackney Wick’s pièce de résistance is its canalside charm. The River Lea and to a slightly lesser (albeit soon to change) extent the Hertford and Union Canal are begging you to take a leisurely stroll. Along the way, you’ll pass breweries, street food vendors, and lots and lots of slightly tatty boats of a huge variety.

Foodies, rejoice! From Crate Brewery’s legendary pizzas to Howling Hops’ tank-fresh beers, there’s no shortage of options to satisfy your refined yet ravenous tastes. And if you’re feeling fancy, there’s always Silo.

For greenery, Hackney Wick punches well above its weight. Victoria Park, London’s oldest public park, is just a short hop away, with its glorious lakes, open spaces, and packed calendar of festivals. And let’s not forget Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park, which is getting better and better as it matures. Although there is almost no green space in Hackney Wick itself, you are only minutes from some really lovely parks.

The quirks

Hackney Wick is not without its challenges. For one, public transport is… quirky. The Overground station will get you to Stratford or Highbury & Islington quickly, but try venturing further afield, and you’ll be shaking your fist at a missed train every 15 minutes.

Then there’s the housing. Fancy a warehouse flat with exposed brick? That’ll cost you. Want a garden? Dream on.

But the real adjustment is psychological. Living in Hackney Wick means embracing its peculiar form of cool, even if it occasionally borders on the absurd.

Accessibility and education

For families, Hackney Wick might surprise you. While it doesn’t scream “child-friendly,” its proximity to Victoria Park and Olympic Park’s play areas makes it more appealing than you’d expect. Plus, it’s home to Mossbourne Riverside Academy, a standout primary school that has families putting down roots faster than you can say “catchment area.”

Who’s moving in?

Hackney Wick attracts a diverse crowd, though everyone seems to share a few key traits: an appreciation for craft beer, a carefully curated wardrobe, and a fondness for the word “curated.” You’ve got your artists and musicians, of course, but they’re now joined by tech entrepreneurs, young families, and professionals who can’t quite afford Shoreditch.

Old-school East Enders still hold their ground, adding a much-needed dose of reality to an otherwise highly stylised neighbourhood.

The verdict

Hackney Wick is not a place for the faint-hearted or the faint-walleted. But if you’re up for the challenge, it’s a wildly rewarding spot to call home. You’ll be part of a community that’s dynamic, creative, and just a little bit bonkers.

So, pack your tote bag, dust off your sourdough starter, and prepare to embrace the Wick life. Just don’t forget your bike lock – this is still East London, after all.

This article is the first of a series I hope to write on the many great areas of London. It is unashamedly a homage to the great series in the Guardian Let Move to. See the full collection here.

To cargo or not to cargo

Despite loving the simplicity of the Buzzbike, anyone who moves a child around London by bike will come to a point when they are just too heavy for an ordinary bike.

We have reached that point and had to move on, but to what? The roads of Hackney and Islington are packed with cargo bikes of all varieties, from the purity of young couriers on Bullitt bikes to parents on £5,000 Tern GSDs to amazing bikes which appear to have a small shed on the front.

But due to a compromise of cost and size and also delaying making a decision, I have gone for a bit of a kludge, a brilliant Swapfiet electric bike with a kid's seat screwed on the back and a huge basket on the front. It might not be pretty, but it is getting the job done.

Swapfiet - Who they are and what do they offer

You have probably seen Swapfiets bikes around (big blue tyre on the front wheel). They are a Dutch bike rental company with operations across Europe. Apparently, London is one of their biggest market outside of the Netherlands. I suspect this is due to the bikes being popular with both middle-class people who like the look of the Dutch-style pedal bike and Uber/deliveroo delivery guys who love the electric version.

As with Buzzbike, Swapfiets offer a subscription-based model. You pay a monthly fee to rent a high-quality, custom-made Dutch-style bike. The great thing, in my opinion, is subscription includes regular maintenance and repairs, although not insurance.

I have used the bike for the last six months, communing five days a week from Fish Island to Clerkenwell to drop Violet at nursery and then on to work in Bloomsbury. A journey of between 24 and 45 minutes each way, depending on the route.

Swapfiet - The bike

The bikes are distinctive; in addition to the blue tyre, they are all dDutchtch style bikes - upright riding position, comfy saddle, large. They are manufactured in the Netherlands, and they seem high-quality and durable, although we did have to get a saddle replaced.

The upright riding position seems to have several advantages. It's comfortable; you can speak to the little passengers in the back (as long as they aren't in a mood). But most of all, I like being as big as possible when riding with Violet. I want drivers to see us.

The bikes come in several colours and sizes. However, the Power 7 ebike, which we went for, only comes in black. I had only ever ridden a Lime Bike before, so my experience of e-bikes was quite limited. But I found it pretty easy; the oddest thing about the bike is probably the main break, which is operated by pushing backwards on the pedal. At first, it seemed very odd, but I soon got used to it and have come to see its strengths.

I think the most obvious and the thing that defines the Power 7 is that it's massive, really, really huge. It also weigts a ton. Now I'm 6'3", and its pretty big for me, do not rent this bike if you are short. But luckily, some of the other bikes available are smaller.

The weight also means that a lot of the motor's power is devoted to moving around the huge weight. It gives you assistance up to 22 Km/jouse. But it's hard to get it much faster than that.... especially with a heavy three-year-old on the back. It doesn't have that fun kick of power the Lime Bikes have.

Now, I never thought I would have a basket, but again, I have come to love it. It is brilliantly handy just to be able to chuck a bag in the front. Swapfiet will provide a sturdy metal basket (at an extra cost). It's amazing how much you can fit in it (see embarrassing photo).

The bike comes with a built-in lock. At first, I thought this was a bit of a gimmick. But again, it's great. The lock is integrated into the bike frame and consists of two elements: a wheel lock and a chain. That said, I also tend to take the battery out when I park on the street.

How does it work 

Cost 

I thought the costs seemed pretty reasonable. The current monthly cost for the Power 7 e-bike is £79.90 per month. But remember, you pay a bit extra for a basket, and then there are some other upfront costs.

They always seem to have special offers, especially on the Power 7. I got a 15% discount for the first six months and no upfront membership fee. Full pricing is on their website.

Ordering and picking up

Super easy, I booked online and arranged to do a test ride two days later in their shop in Spitalfields. The team member was knowledgeable and attentive. Despite it being a busy day, I was able to take the bike out for a 15-minute test drive.

I signed up and was able to take the bike home there and then. Just remember your photo ID.

Repairs

One of the main reasons for renting a bike like this is the ease of maintenance and repair, which is all included in the fee. We haven't needed to use it much as the bike is sturdy, but as I mentioned, a saddle broke; I phoned and was able to get it replaced within an hour.

Conclusion

So to conclude, the bikes seem well-made, comfortable, and designed for everyday use. With the basket on the front and a seat on the back, they make a pretty good temporary alternative to a more traditional family cargo bike.

I am not saying it's as good as a Tern, and it won't last much longer. But then it only got £70 a month and saved us a fortune in the cost of busses and trains. Plus, there is no worry about maintenance and repair. But one thing you will need some gear for colder weather; who knew you could buy a pink ski mask

When the party is over, and it's time to take the kids out, East London is a treasure trove of hidden gems waiting to be discovered. This vibrant part of the city offers a unique blend of culture, history, and family-friendly attractions.

I hope this post will help other parents uncover some of the top toddler-friendly destinations in East London. Some are pretty obvious for anyone living here, but I will try and update them with more exciting and off-the-beaten-track ideas. It will be a live post, and I will update it as Violet and I try new places.

Note: Also, for the sake of transparency, I should be honest and say I asked ChatGPT to have a bash at writing the first draft. It was okay, but a derivative and weirdly way too positive. If any bits remain, that is my fault.

Young V&A (previously V&A Museum of Childhood)

Step into a world of nostalgia and play at the Young V&A in Bethnal Green. This unique museum celebrates the history of childhood through its extensive collection of toys, games, and artefacts. From vintage dolls and train sets to interactive exhibits, the museum invites toddlers to explore and engage with the past.

The Young V&A is brilliant, as simple as that, its just great. There is so much there but in a brilliantly accessible way. We went with three generations, Violet (4), me (45) and my mum and partners (70s), everyone found something interesting. The exhibitions are pitched at mutltple levels so interesting for all.

The place isn't for the faint-hearted, the designers clearly new what they were doing as there is loads of space for little ones just to run up and down and blow off steam. If yours are calmer, there were also great areas for activities and calm.

It's laid out simply in a big loop, so there is less chance of getting lost. Although the day we went the lift wasn't work, but these things happen. There is also a reading room and quiet space downstairs. But we didn't use them, it wasn't that type of day, lol.

Young V&A

Museum of London Docklands

Step back in time and embark on a journey of discovery at the Museum of London Docklands. Located in Canary Wharf, this fascinating museum showcases the rich history of London's docks and the people who lived and worked there. Toddlers will be captivated by the interactive displays, hands-on activities, and storytelling sessions that bring the past to life. The museum also hosts regular family events and workshops, allowing young ones to immerse themselves in history while having fun.

Museum of London Docklands | Free museum in London

Victoria Park

Escape the urban buzz and immerse yourselves in nature at Victoria Park. As one of East London's largest green spaces, this expansive park offers a multitude of toddler-friendly activities. Let your little ones run wild in the playgrounds equipped with climbing frames, swings, and sandpits. Take a leisurely stroll around the picturesque lake or hire a pedalo for a family adventure on the water. The park also hosts various events, including storytelling sessions, seasonal festivals, and outdoor concerts, ensuring there's always something exciting happening for families to enjoy.

Victoria Park

Hackney City Farm

Introduce your toddlers to the wonders of farm life at Hackney City Farm. Situated in the heart of East London, this community-run farm provides a unique and educational experience for young children. They can get up close and personal with a variety of friendly farm animals, including goats, pigs, and chickens. Toddlers can participate in feeding sessions, learn about animal care, and even try their hand at gardening in the farm's vegetable patch. The farm's cozy café is perfect for a quick snack or a cup of tea while the little ones play in the outdoor play area.

Hackney City Farm London

Discover Children's Story Centre

Fuel your toddler's imagination and love for storytelling at the Discover Children's Story Centre. Located in Stratford, this interactive museum offers a world of literary adventures for young minds. Explore the Story World and engage in imaginative play, dress-up, and puppetry. The Story Garden, complete with a giant storytelling chair and a sensory trail, provides a perfect outdoor space for little ones to run, play, and let their creativity soar. The center also hosts a range of workshops, performances, and storytelling sessions that cater specifically to toddlers and their families.

Discover Children’s Story Centre

Mudchute Park and Farm

Nestled in the heart of the Isle of Dogs, Mudchute Park and Farm is an urban oasis that offers an unforgettable farm experience for toddlers. With its vast green spaces, woodland areas, and farm animals, this hidden gem provides a perfect escape from the bustling city. Toddlers can meet sheep, cows, ponies, and even llamas, while parents can enjoy a leisurely stroll through the park's serene landscapes. The farm also offers pony rides, educational programs, and a charming café where families can relax and refuel.

Mudchute Park and Farm

I have been meaning to write a review of our pushchair for ages. But as with most things, I am behind schedule, but here it is. The Cybex MIOS is brilliant; I think it's one of the best baby things we bought (no cliffhanger here!).

This blog isn't focused on reviews of kids' stuff, and I have only got experience with one pushchair. So this is an unashamedly narrow and biased review. The other health warning is that it's focused towards me as a tall man. Based on the Cybex website, they seem to be aiming to sell the Mios to pretty, rich young mums living in Kensington. Little did they know a scruffy, 6'4", middle-aged dad is using it as a brilliant workhorse and pushing his increasingly heavy child around rough east London!

Before Violet was born, just before Covid, Elsie dragged me down to The Baby Show, in Earls Court. If you haven't been, it's a truly terrifying experience. Full of a vast range of stuff you didn't know you needed, and parents to be walking around with slightly dazed/shocked faces. But it gave us the opportunity to look at lots of buggies and have a play to see which we liked. More critically, one which met two big requirements for a pushchair; that it is easy and comfortable for me to push and small enough to fit into the tiny flat we had until Violet was two. The MIOS brilliantly addressed both.

The Cybex Mios stroller is a well-designed and stylish option for parents living in town. But don't be fooled by the rose gold and flashy marketing. It can handle a bit of mud and hills. Maybe not full-on the countryside, but we've taken it through Victoria Park in the snow, The New Forest and North Norfolk (possibly one of the most middle-class lists of places, but this is a review of a £1200 pushchair so...).

The handling is exceptional, with one-handed steering making it easy to navigate crowded places. The narrow rear wheelbase may make for a unique appearance, but it gives babies the smoothest of rides and allows parents to fit through small gaps with ease. It means there isn't a huge space underneath, but it's perfect when you are trying to get onto a busy bus or the tube.

We got the whole system before Violet was born and have used it constantly till now, when she is almost three. The poor thing has paid its dues, and I suspect we have probably only got another six months, but it still holds up getting her. The Lux Carry Cot and Lite Cot are both excellent options for newborns, providing a cozy and luxurious space for babies to lie in during their early days. We opted for the Lite Cot due to space constraints and as there was a great deal at the time, where you got a car seat included. In my opinion, the Lite Cot is perfect, especially if you do not have the space or need a full carry cot in a small flat.

The reversible seat is ergonomically shaped from the top of the seat back to the footrest, ensuring a comfortable and secure fit for a baby. You can remove the seat liner and use the mesh seat if it's hot, but we never did this.

As I've said, we use it as a real workhorse, predominantly to get Violet to and from the nursery; we also walked miles during the pandemic. Two features jump out the excellent UPF50+ rated extendable rain hood that provides ample shade and protection as it extends down all the way bumper bar. This has dealt with some crazy weather, albeit with an additional rain cover, which Violet hates. The other is balance, I am not sure if this is deliberate but you can hang an awful lot of stuff off the handlebar without it feeling insecure. It can easily take a nursery bag and one big bag of shopping...maybe Violet is just a very heavy little girl. The basket space underneath the Mios is a bit of an unusual shape and fairly small, but it can fit a backpack or briefcase.

The chassis boasts an angular, minimalist design, which is apparently inspired by Charles and Ray Eames, and the all-wheel suspension provides a smooth ride. Steering is generally great and you can easily manoeuvre around tight corners and squeeze through narrow gaps using just one hand when your kid is young. I've noticed that hasn't been the case for the last four months. But I think we are reaching the end of our time with a brilliant and trusty friend.

The brake is operated with a foot pedal right in the centre of the rear wheels, and even this has a stylish design. It's easy to use and doesn't get in the way.

The big concern for us was that both Elsie and I could use it easily. I'm tall, and Elsie is 5'4". But it's not been a problem, as the handlebar moves to three different positions using the central palm button, suiting almost any height. The handlebar finish is perfect, with the stitching, logo, and buttons adding to the luxurious and glamorous feel of the Mios. Sadly, that does seem to give after two years of hard graft.

I am sure I have missed some technical points. But I'll conclude as I started the Mios is great. It works for tall and short people. It is sized to be compact enough for the city and to live in a small flat, but it does not feel like a tiny, lightweight option. It has served us well, and I will be honest: I will miss having something to hang things on, hold my phone and coffee, and, of course, keep Violet safe, dry, and mobile.

Website:

Cybex Mios

Due to the standard childcare issues, I haven't read a novel for ages and have relied on Audible and podcasts. But I've decided I needed to get back to reading properly...like a grown-up, albeit in a fairly gentle fashion. I've started with Beyond the Hallowed Sky" by Ken MacLeod. It's the first book in the Light Speed Trilogy.

Note: It was published several years ago. The second book has just been published, and I am playing catch up.

I should start with a disclaimer this isn't going to be a hugely balanced review. I am a huge fan of Ken MacLeod's work. Especially The Fall Revolution Series.

Beyond the Hallowed Sky is a gripping novella (perfect for someone like me who has read a more complicated book than Peter Rabbit in three years). The story is set in a post-apocalyptic Scotland, similar to the world depicted in his "Fall Revolution" series, where religion and politics play a critical role in the lives of the survivors. Although I also thought there were some similarities to The Great Road, by Peter F Hamilton.

MacLeod's writing style is as sharp and engaging as I remember fondly, and his characters are well-drawn and relatable, much like the protagonists of his earlier works, such as "The Cassini Division" and "The Execution Channel." The novella is a fast-paced and thrilling read, with plenty of action and suspense to keep readers engaged, and it offers a fresh take on some of the themes that MacLeod has explored in his earlier books.

One of the strengths of "Beyond the Hallowed Sky" is its world-building, which is a hallmark of MacLeod's writing. The novella is set in a future Scotland that has been transformed by war, and MacLeod's descriptions of the landscape and technology are both evocative and imaginative, much like the worlds he created in his earlier novels.

In terms of a comparison to other works in the genre, "Beyond the Hallowed Sky" shares some similarities with the post-apocalyptic fiction of authors like Cormac McCarthy and Margaret Atwood, as well as the political and philosophical themes of authors such as Iain M. Banks and Alastair Reynolds, both of whom have been compared to MacLeod in the past.

In conclusion, "Beyond the Hallowed Sky" is a powerful and thought-provoking novella that will appeal to fans of Ken MacLeod's earlier works, as well as to readers of science fiction and post-apocalyptic fiction more broadly. With its engaging characters, thrilling plot, and richly-drawn world, it is a must-read for anyone interested in the genre, and a testament to MacLeod's skill as a writer.

I am glad to be back reading again and have already pre-ordered part 2.

I have mentioned before on the blog, that due to the lockdown and raising a baby, I have walked around London far more than I ever used to. But another thing I found I enjoy is watching walking videos on Youtube. They are amazing.

I am sure I am not the only one who discovered these during the lockdown. They give you the opportunity to see other cities or just a bit of your own city you don't know. It allowed you to remember what it was like to get out, and they are so calm.

There is a huge selection which varies in type and quality. Some are technical masterpieces; some focus on what's cool, some are local history, and some of my favourites aren't narrated at all and are closer to ASMR, with brilliant sound production. If you want to calm down, watch 45 mins of someone quietly walking around Djion or Seoul in the rain, it's brilliant.

I've picked three of my favourites below, but there are loads.

Johnny Strides

Johnny is a Toronto-based creator. His was the first channel I watched (as Elsie is from Toronto so there is lots of family there). He has a big following and a huge collection of videos. He clearly loves his city and has covered huge swathes of it. He does other clever things like live streaming, but I haven't tried this.

The video quality is good, and his narration is fun. Although he does seem particularly interested in public transport and chain restaurants!

John Rogers

John Rogers is the second creator I started to watch, in part because he focuses on east London and is based fairly close to our new neighbourhood.

His videos are fascinating. He is a writer, and so his videos have far more of a narrative and outline the history of London. I don't think he would mind me saying he seems a bit of an old-fashioned lefty (but what's wrong with that), so his videos do tend toward social history. But he has done some great videos of the City and seems fair.

The quality of the actual filming isn't maybe quite as good as, say, Watched Walker, but that isn't why you'd watch him. He does great walks all over London and knows a huge amount of history of some of the more obscure bits. I have put a link to his blog (the lost byways) below.

Watched Walker

Watched Walker is slightly different to the ether of the above. There is no narration. The creator tries to document the look, feel and, importantly sounds of cities.

They are long, shot beautifully (albeit possibly over-saturated) and give you a brilliant feel of what London is like. I think my favourite are the night videos. I am not going to try and describe too much, just have a look.

the lost byway

I am sorry for another slightly dull, and self-indulgent post. I hope it doesn't come across as either winging (too much) or trite and clickbait.

It's well-accepted that being a parent is hard; it's more accepted now that dads can struggle as well. But what I wasn't prepared for was how lonely it is to be an old dad.

I believe it's quite common for people to feel a sense of isolation or loneliness at times, regardless of their age or circumstances, and loneliness is a huge issue in the UK. But as an older dad, there are various particular reasons to feel lonely. Add in a pandemic, a sick partner, and a job which is now almost entirely alone, and it was pretty grim.  

The reailites of old dadum

So why do I think being an old dad has some odd peculiarities, that add to loneliness:

• Friends: Firstly, most of your friends either don't have kids or theirs are grown up, and they have 'forgotten' what it was like. There are only so many times you have to cancel at short notice or leave at 9 pm before people stop inviting you out. I miss the pub. Unfortunately, some friends will drop you if you can never go to the pub or if you talk about kids all the time.

• Support: There seems to be less of a support network for dads. I completely understand that this is probably right; women do most of the heavy lifting. But it would be good if there was a little more. I have enjoyed a newsletter called The New Fatherhood, and the online group around that. Others seem to slip into angry dads' rights, which isn't what I am looking for at all. To be honest, it would be nice if there were just parent groups.

• Not part of the gang: Just because you are doing much of the childcare, don't think the mums will necessarily let you into the gang. This is possibly just perception. But mums at the playground won't necessarily chat. To be honest, why would they? You are still some strange 45-year-old guy; a baby isn't a passport. But sometimes it's sad.

• Tired: This is the same for all parents, but you are tired all the time, and just want things to be easy. It isn't the right time to make new friends, to start a new hobby etc.  

• Work: I think work has historically been a big part of my social life and network. Becoming a dad coincided with the pandemic and remote working. Which meant I was disconnected from the team. Online meetings are not the same as chatting in the office or beer after work (a bit of a recurring theme here, maybe I should rename the post, I miss the pub).

• Money: On top of all of the above, most newish dads are going to be short of cash. Which makes options such as seeing old friends or a new hobby harder.  

Possible solutions

My feeling of loneliness has gotten better. To some extent, this is due to external factors: Although COVID is still here, we aren't in lockdown, I am back in the office most of the week (although now we don't have a big team), and Elsie is a lot better.

But I am also trying a few things to help get better.  

• Connecting with others: I am seeking out opportunities to socialise with others, such as joining a club or group. I have enjoyed The New Fatherhood and the online group around that. I am also just writing to old friends; it does feel like resurfacing after being underwater for a very long time.

• Stay active: I don't have a huge amount of time, but doing activities that are separate from being a dad and a partner has got to help. I have started exercising again and volunteering where I can

• Seek support: Have I tried this? No, we can't afford a therapist, and to be honest, I don't think I need one. But I have signed up with my old personal trainer. As well as being a great trainer, he was good to talk to and is now a life coach. He doesn't know it, but maybe I can get 2 for 1.  

A bit of a stream of consciousness this one, and personal. If you are reading this and have a real issue, please try and get proper help. Don't listen to me.

Another in my sporadic series of reviews. I have enjoyed writing them, but I am conscious that it may well be another in a long line of procrastination techniques to stop me from writing more serious posts, the original purpose of the blog.

But I have a cunning plan. The review today covers both. A standard review but an area that intersects with issues such as fatherhood and mental health.  

The New Fatherhood is an interesting newsletter about the evolving nature of being a father today. It is the first newsletter I ever signed up for.

I would really recommend it. Kevin, the author, covers a lot of areas and has built a nice and supportive community on both the Substack comments section and the associated network.  I think he deserves huge credit for the writing and also for helping to create and nurture a small community who are incredibly supportive of one another.

He has covered a wide range of interesting topics, without having some of the silly anger and anti-mum that some other 'dad blogs' seem to have. Although there does seem a bit of a focus on wellness recently.

If I am honest, it is maybe a little too wholesome for me now, but when things were very difficult, and I was getting very low, it was perfect to read about other dads and what they were doing. I only wish I'd found it a couple of months earlier.

I would recommend it to any new dad to have a read, particularly if things aren't perfect and the network around it are great.

There is an interesting article on substack about the newsletter.

The New Fatherhood

I've started a pension for Violet. This may seem crazy - she is only two and a half, and we are short of cash due to the crazy cost of the nursery and the fancy new flat. But I have been meaning to do it for ages, and finally, setting it up has made me happy...but poorer.

I wanted to do it for several reasons, outlined below, and why I think it might be a good idea for many people.

Note: A bit obvious, but please only do the same after doing your own research or getting some professional advice. If you have read any other posts, you will know I am not an investment expert (LOL), and this is undoubtedly not professional financial advice.

The basics - why start a pension for a 2-year-old!

Having mentioned my plan to some friends and family, I was surprised to discover how few people knew you can start a pension for a baby or, in fact, any child under 18.

People seem to know about Junior ISAs but not the Junior SIPPs. This is odd as it can be a brilliant (and very tax-efficient) way to save for your child's future and give them something really valuable in the future...albeit a long way in the future as they won't be able to access the money till they are 57.

But my thinking is that for a relatively small sacrifice now, I can potentially remove the need for Violet to save massively for her own pension. Since the pension pot can build up over her early lifetime, rather than when she starts work...or worrying about pensions at 40 like most of us. Although she may not be hugely grateful at 18, when she gets to control, it will mean that the pension pot could be quite significant when she needs it without the huge effort or sacrifice that most of us make

You can open a Junior Self Invested Personal Pension (SIPP) for a child under 18, but the younger, the better; unfortunately, we didn't have the cash till now. You can pay a maximum of £2,880 per year into the pension, which becomes £3,600 through 20 per cent tax relief, which is just brilliant. But of course, you can't get it out.

So all being well, and assuming there is some growth left in the stock market, your child gets the benefit of tax relief and compound interest.

So, for example, if you can start as soon as a baby is born and pay in the maximum assuming a four per cent growth, and that your child doesn't continue to pay after they are 18 they will still have a pension pot of £620,000 at 67. This, of course, doesn't include any contributions they make themselves when they are working or state pension.

In my case, I have started a bit late as Violet will be three in April. I am using Fidelity to manage the pension. I read around the subject, and they seem well regarded, and the fees are low for managing the pension. There are also fees for individual funds, and these vary. The process of setting up was extremely straightforward and all done online.

I have also only been able to invest £1000 so far. If possible, I will try and invest at least another £500 before the end of the tax year in April. My plan is to try and max it out every year. This will become easier when she goes to school.

To make up for the late start, I've decided to be bolder in the choice of investments. I have gone all in on the Fidelity Global Technology Fund. That may sound mad, especially after being so sensible, but this isn't a pension for a 45-year-old, and in the long run, technology has got to be a good bet (hopefully) so I have taken a bit of a punt. Violet, of course, can reallocate later as she gets older and wants a more secure or low-risk portfolio.

Why it's right for me, and I hope Violet.

Or why I hope it will give her a comfortable life without making her an entitled brat.

I am an old dad and getting more and more conscious I won't be around for a huge chunk of her life, and I want to make sure she has a happy and comfortable life.

A pension isn't the only way we are hoping to give Violet a good start financially. The most obvious is that we are sending her to a very good (and hugely expensive) nursery, we have also moved to an area with good schools and we are saving for a college fund.

I hope that her knowing she has a decent pension plan in place already will provide security without making her spoiled, she will still need to get a job and work. But hopefully, doing something she loves. Knowing there is a pension may take away some pressure. On a more basic level, it will allow her to spend income on other things, like a flat.

So why a pension, not a Junior ISA or a trust fund. Trust funds are out, simply because we aren't talking about that level of money.

Junior ISAs are good, in that they are tax efficient and provide good exposure to the stock market. But there is a practical problem. The child gets control of the money at 18. Now we all hope our child will be a well-rounded and mature person. But what if they aren't? It might just be as annoying as your silly 18-year-old kid spending 20 years of savings on a holiday rather than a deposit, but it could be far worse if they are going through a bad stage at that point. So my preferred route is SIPP for her and then save in our own ISAs and provide an allowance later.

One final thing. The contribution shouldn't replace other necessary forms of investment. I need to sort out some life insurance, another exciting post to follow...Chris buys life insurance, I am sure that will go viral.

A mini post - We have had a bit of a breakthrough with Violets sleeping. It's not perfect, but it feels like a huge step.

We have completely cut out any milk in bed, either when she is going to sleep or through the night. We have all used the bottle of milk as a bit of a crutch, but I decided we had to make a change as I am worried about her teeth, and we need her to start sleeping properly.

It wasn't anywhere near as hard as I had feared. I explained she wasn't getting milk in bed anymore; we had one bad night, and then she completely accepted water as a replacement. What's been great is how it has helped with sleep more generally; I don't want to tempt fate, but so far, the number of wakes has reduced, and she seems to understand that she is older now and needs to make a change. We have reinforced this with stickers as a reward (bribe).

Now all we need to do is get her to sleep before 9, to sleep later than 5:30 and not wake up screaming in the night!

I have been listening to the intriguing Londongrad for the second in my (small) series of podcast reviews. It's a fascinating and well-researched work, although not without faults.

As someone new to podcasts, my choice of the show isn't very scientific. I don't want to jinx it, but Violet may finally be starting to sleep, which means I can listen to something serious.

I picked Lonndongrad as it covers a timely issue - our crazy politics. Also, it is relatively short in number and length of episodes. Although possibly that is the cause of my most significant criticism, the lack of depth. But I would still highly recommend it as a fascinating exploration of power and money.

The show is being promoted quite heavily at the moment due, I suspect, to the Prime minister's resignation. It describes itself as:

'Londongrad: How the Lebedevs partied their way to power is a 6 part series investigating two men – who are at the heart of the story of Britain opening its doors to Russian Oligarchs. Alexander Lebedev is the man with the money and - as we'll see - with the plan. Alexander's son, Evgeny, rose from a fixture on the social scene to a seat in the House of Lords. He did it with Prime Minister Boris Johnson's help and against the advice of the security services. There's never been a story quite like it.'

I found the story intriguing but maybe not as shocking or as important as the author seems to believe or try to imply. However, that changed after the last episode. When Boris Johnson admitted, to a parliamentary committee, that he had met Alexander Lebedev in 2018 on his own when he was Foreign Secretary. The Guardian's Carole Cadwalladr, expand on some of the details in her fascinating article.

Paul Caruana Galizia, the journaist and narator does a good job. The story is clearly based on rigorous journalism. As a host, he brings an evident shock and disbelief that such overt, money-fuelled manoeuvring is allowed and actively welcomed in Britain.

Again that is another area of criticism; it is clearly disgraceful that a 42-year-old ex-playboy should be ennobled to the House of Lords. But is it really shocking! Everyone knows this happens. I imagine the author does too. The later episodes discuss a broader level of corruption, possibly a more relevant concern.

Throughout the episodes, there is repeated discussion or implications that Alexander Lebedev had a master plan that he had developed and nurtured for 25 years since being a KGB agent in London. But I am not sure he ever really shows an explicit link or plan. I can't imagine the plan was - I'll have a son, move to London, he'll spend 40 odd years being a bit of a party boy then become a lord after befriending a slightly dodgy PM'. Further, the show never really explains the purpose of the 'plan'. I wonder if the House of Lords thing is a red hearing, and we should be more concerned about newspaper ownership.

If the entire thing was an elaborate KGB / FSB plan, you wonder what the objective was. One member of the House of Lords doesn't have much power, especially one who doesn't show up and vote. Having read the brilliant This is Not Propodadna by Peter Pomerantsev, you do wonder if possibly the entire episode was just designed to confuse and mislead people as well as lower our belief in the rule of law. But that way lies madness.

It might be unfair to criticize the lack of depth after admitting I chose the show as it was short. The podcast medium may also be an issue; the author expands on a series of intriguing essays. Irrespective of some of the faults, it is a great mini-series and an excellent and straightforward introduction to a timely and disturbing period in British politics.

Londongrad - Tortoise

I have finally taken the plunge and brought a bike. Well, not exactly I signed up with Buzzbike. So this post is going to be half blog, half review.

Why do I need a bike?

The short answer is to commute; we have moved home, making the massive jump from Clerkenwell to Fish Island! Which is lovely (more of that later) but terrible for public transport.

I need to get Violet to her nursery in Clerkenwell until we can arrange one nearer. I didn't want to be one of those annoying dads with their kid on the back, but a bike was the only feasible option I could come up with now.

Also, like many people, I started riding during the lockdown and loved it. I used Santander bikes and also the brilliant Lime electric bikes. It will sound stupid, but I had forgotten how nice it is to cycle, and what a lovely way it is to see your city.

So after deciding to buy a bike, I needed to pick one. This is where I ran into trouble - the overwhelming choice and variety of bikes and the vast amount of reviews and advice.

So I have decided to fudge it. Buzzbike offers an excellent service and, in my case, a brilliant delaying strategy. It's not a perfect solution, but it's been pretty good so far, and depending on circumstances, it could be a great choice.

Swapfiet | www.alondonlife.co.uk

If you need more of a workhorse, please have a read of the review of Swapfiet's electric bike

Buzzbike

The deal

For those who don't know, Buzzbike pitches itself the "Netflix for bikes", which is a pretty stupid tagline for what is a clever system.

It's basically a subscription or rental system for a bike. The current price is £29.99 a month, so you get a niceish bike suitable for London. Importantly, they will replace it if stolen and there is on-demand maintenance, which has turned out to be brilliant.

After I signed up online, the bike was delivered to our house within days; the chap who delivered the bike was knowledgeable and helped set it up. He mentioned that they have a few larger bikes, but broadly, it is one size fits all, I believe, which is a bit of an issue at 6'4". But so far, it is okay.

Membership can be cancelled with 30 days' notice. I am renting through the cycle-to-work scheme, which further reduces the price depending on your tax bracket. Basically, I get a bike for a month for the cost of two pints! But if you sign up through cycle to work, you are locked in for a year.

The bike

I will not pretend I am an expert on bikes, hence why I am renting one. The bike is a reasonably basic city-type bike with three gears. It is designed especially for Buzzbike and seems to be aimed at a mix of hipsters and commuters. They have done an excellent job; it works without being too flashy or complex.

The bike has a lightweight steel frame that makes it agile; for most people, that is an attraction. I would prefer something a little sturdier with a two-year-old on the back.

They say you get puncture-proof tyres, but take that with a pinch of salt.

It comes with mudguards, and they throw in a massive lock, but no lights or helmet, so you need to budget for them. The lock is fitted to the frame was easy to use and felt sturdy. Unfortunately, I had to take it off to fit on the massive child seat; I now carry it around in a bag. Not ideal.

The bike is fun, light, and great to ride if there wasn't a little extra person clinging on the back, kicking you in the bum, shouting 'well-done dadda'.

The App

As you'd expect, they push the Buzzbike app pretty hard. It tracks things like distance ridden and has a reasonably good route mapper.

You can also earn rewards the more you ride, including Costa Coffee vouchers. Honestly, I used it for the first few days and then didn't bother.

Conclusion - was Buzzbike the right choice for me.

In the short term, yes, I have been pleasantly surprised and like the bike. For such a small amount of money, it has been an excellent way to decide if getting Violet to nursey by bike is a serious option. The bike is fine, and I think the service would be fantastic for the right person.

Ultimately I think we will stick with a bike. But unfortunately, I don't believe Buzzbike is the right one for us. I had a child seat fitted on the back, it works, and she loves to ride with me. But it's not the right bike for a bigger child; there is just too much weight on the back, making handling a little awkward. We need something bigger, sturdier and embarrassingly with a step-through frame - you try getting your leg over a kid seat when you are 44.

Also, I am tired and want an electric bike! I will go the other way and get an incredibly expensive Tern when I can afford it. For now, we will stick with the great Buzzbike.

I recently wrote about my experience of driving an RV, one lovely thing about Canada Dream is whenever you pass someone else driving one, you hooted and waved. I have seen quite a few other people on Buzzbikes, but so far I have managed to get anyone else to join in the fun!

If you decide it might be for you, I would be grateful if you could use the link below or use the referral code when you sign up. It helps me support my blog and you will get £10 credit to your account. Thanks

CHRISLLOYD316314

Bike Rent London, Monthly Bike Rental, Cycle Hire, Buzzbike

A year ago today I posted a pretty bland set of photos on Instagram saying:

This isn’t new to anyone. But it makes me smile that Violet is basically a little combo of Elsie and me.

Facebook reminded me of the post and it made me smile. It also made me think more about our little collaboration.

Again none of this is new to anyone really and certainly to parents. My throw-away comment was right last year, but not so much now, as she has grown.

In terms of looks, I think she really is a blend. But in terms of personality, that is just too simplistic. I sometimes see bits of Elsie, but Violet is more than the sum of her parts, she was two in April and has her own personality. There are elements of this that are not like either us. She is strong-willed and bulshy, she is far louder than either of us. But I think that is a good thing you don't want a mini-me.

This sounds melodramatic, but I think ONroute, near Port Hope, Ontario, saved my life. Through an odd series of events, we ended up driving down the motorway, in the dark, during a dreadful storm in an absolutely massive Recreational Vehicle (RV). The reasonably modest service station was like a shining oasis, a bolt hole and ultimately a haven for the night. Honestly, I will have a soft spot for ONroute until the day I die.

ONroute

For those who don't know, ONroute is a chain of service stations in Canada. They are pretty much like all service stations offering food, petrol and parking, and in our case, a safe haven for the night, and of course, being Canada, Tim Hortons coffee.

Driving a massive RV!

In 2018, Elsie and I went for a holiday in Ontario. The plan was simple, a few days in Toronto to see family, then a week in an RV to explore more wild and picturesque bits of Canada, then back to Toronto for a week, exploring the city, eating fantastic food and meeting even more friends and family.

I'd booked an RV from Canada Dream and arranged campsites. I wasn't being overconfident; I realised I would be driving on the other side of the road and something bigger than my usual VW Golf. So the plan for the first day was low-key, pick up the van in Brampton and drive to Sandbanks in Prince Edward County. Google says the journey will take two and a half hours, and I'd assumed it would take us four or five. Ultimately we gave up after seven, with me almost in tears!

Maybe I should have realised my carefully laid plan was falling apart pretty early on. I had assumed that we could pick up the van at lunchtime, but Canada Dream phoned in the morning to confirm everything, they explained that I could come in at 3 pm, and the kind and jolly manager also told me that they had managed to upgrade us to a much 'nicer' vehicle - its turns out nicer meant genuinely massive!  

Our beautiful home for the week was 8.9m (29ft) long and could sleep six, possibly over the top for the two of us. The staff at Canada Dream were tremendous, and the van was lovely; I came to enjoy driving it. But right there, standing in a car park in Brampton with the sky darkening, I was too embarrassed to say I was frightened, and it was just too big.

So we set off into the night and into the suburbs of The Greater Toronto Area (GTA). We had decided it was better to stay off the Highways, at least to start with. We thought this would allow us to get used to the driving and avoid a toll rather than jumping straight on the 401.

It was ultimately a mistake. The GTA is huge; the drive through the endless suburbs and mini-cities took far, far too long and involved stopping at 100s of the traffic light. Whilst the whole time, the sky was darkening. When we finally joined the 401 Highway, it was almost pitch black. But far worse, despite being summer and lovely for the rest of the holiday, that day, there was a tremendous storm. An epic storm, torrential rain, trees falling over kind of storm.

So I joined the motorway on a tight slip road, in a huge van, in pitch black, with gigantic double-length articulated trucks whizzing past at what felt like 100 miles an hour. I was exhausted, terrified and possibly getting a bit snappy with poor Elsie. We drove like this for maybe 30 mins, and I genuinely thought we were going to crash or at the very least give up and pull onto the hard shoulder and have to be rescued by mounties.

Any port(hope) in a storm

In a bit of a state, gripping the wheel for dear life, we saw the sign like a glowing beacon for the ONroute. I didn't know what it was other than a place to stop; we crawled along the inside lane, determined not to miss the exit.  

I hoped we could stop for an hour, allow me to catch my breath and calm down. Maybe the rain would let off, but I was dreading getting back on the road. As we pulled in there was a sign for the car park, and another RV parking, which was at least plus I wouldn't have to get upset tying to park the monster.

As we drove slowly into the RV park, my heart beginning to slow, we joked that it would be nice if we could just stay here for the night.

Then we it'sthe RV parked in front, was clearly set up for the night and not in a discrete way. Both sides fully extended, all the lights blazing, through the window I could see a guy happy and warm on his sofa, eating dinner and watchingfootball on his giagatic telly. I have never been so happy to see a fat man eating pizza. We decided to do the same.

We parked and went to explore our first campsite. Maybe not as picturesque as Sandbank, but I will always be grateful. I will remember it for the rest of my life. Sometimes it's not about instergramable  moments in front of a lake but rather a safe well lit car park, lovely clean toilets friendly staff and some food.

Would we RV again? - yes absolutely

We made it to Prince Edward CountyWe'renext day, which was lovely. The rest of the trip was fantastic. I would recommend RVing to anyone, and if one night you have to spend it in a car park, I can only hope it is as nice as the one at Onroute.