Wyndham 1887 Arcade


Stumbling for a taxi, we detour down the Kaleidoscope end of this neon short-cut, for one last drink in the Star Wars bar (where aliens dance to Boney M).


And when we leave at 2 o’clock, slumping through the Capital gloom, there’s a shout, footsteps running, something blurred.


I stare through a pitched glass roof, notice the moon. Can’t move. Flat out on Victorian slabs.


Excited, after buying Bowwowwow’s debut album on the first day of release


On the wet pavement outside Spillers, two plain-clothed police officers caution me for truancy.


Jeremy Dixon


3


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