My last two dining experiences began with a maître d’ who seemed to have stepped straight out of a sitcom, delivering the inevitable line — “Have you booked?” — in a tone that somehow manages to feel both accusatory and theatrical. Honestly, it makes me want to scream, “If I had booked, I would have told you!” It’s a small moment, but it can instantly drain the anticipation from what should be a relaxed and enjoyable evening out.
Thankfully, any lingering irritation melted away entirely when I arrived at 123 Browns. It isn’t the easiest place to find, but trust me — it is absolutely worth the search. Tucked away like a secret waiting to be discovered, this intimate yet beautifully curated venue feels calm, thoughtful, and quietly confident. From the moment you step inside, there is a sense that this is a place created with care. The space is stylish without being showy, warm without being overbearing, and there is also a charming outdoor area that feels perfect for long conversations and unhurried evenings.
Specialising in plant-based cuisine, 123 Browns proves — emphatically — that vegan dining can be indulgent, creative, and deeply satisfying. This is not food that relies on novelty or gimmicks; it is food that speaks for itself. The service plays a huge part in setting the tone. With only two members of staff working, the experience felt remarkably seamless. From the outset, we were treated less like customers and more like welcome guests. The team took time to explain the menu clearly and enthusiastically, answering questions with genuine warmth. My friend’s rather complex dietary requirements were handled with complete ease, and the wine and food recommendations were thoughtful, informed, and delivered without even a hint of judgement or impatience.
The food itself was outstanding. Every dish felt carefully considered, beautifully presented, and packed with flavour. This is plant-based cooking that doesn’t attempt to imitate meat unnecessarily, but instead celebrates texture, balance, and freshness. The seasoning was confident without being heavy-handed, allowing individual ingredients to shine. If you love sushi, the plant-based sushi here is nothing short of divine — fresh, inventive, and genuinely memorable. Each bite felt clean, vibrant, and indulgent in equal measure. My only regret is that I didn’t order more savoury dishes before sensibly — or foolishly — leaving room for dessert.
And then there was the dessert. The matcha cheesecake deserves its own paragraph, possibly its own fan club. It may genuinely be the dessert of the century. Silky smooth and perfectly balanced, it was indulgent without ever feeling heavy. The matcha flavour was subtle rather than overpowering, lending depth and elegance rather than bitterness. I had two. Yes, two. Naughty? Absolutely. Worth it? Without question.
What truly sets 123 Browns apart, however, is its atmosphere. There is a calm, welcoming energy that makes you feel instantly at ease — almost like coming home. It feels like a safe, comforting space where you are encouraged to slow down, be present, and enjoy food that has clearly been prepared with intention and care. Honestly, just go. It is a treat in every sense, and once you have been, you will already be planning your return.
When news broke that Lubaina Himid RA, CBE would represent Britain at the 2026 Venice Biennale, the art world let out a collective cheer. At 72, the pioneering British artist—born in Zanzibar, based in Preston—has earned a place among the most influential voices of her generation. Her work, a dazzling blend of history, storytelling, and social critique, has long challenged the narratives that dominate Western culture, shining a light on the contributions of Black figures who have too often been overlooked.
Himid is no stranger to breaking ground. In the 1980s and 1990s, she curated trailblazing exhibitions like Five Black Women (1983) at London’s Africa Centre and The Thin Black Line (1985) at the ICA, putting Black female artists firmly on the map at a time when mainstream galleries barely noticed. Her daring vision earned her the Turner Prize in 2017, and a CBE followed in 2018, honours that recognise not just her artistry but her remarkable influence on the British cultural landscape.
And yet, Himid remains delightfully down-to-earth. On hearing of her Biennale invitation, she laughed, “with both disbelief and pleasure,” before reflecting on the opportunity:
“It is such a great honour and at the same time a brilliant and exciting opportunity to make something particularly special, which resonates with multiple audiences, communicates with complex histories, and looks to a more collaborative future.”
The Path to Venice
Being chosen to represent Britain in Venice is no small feat. The British Council, which manages the UK’s pavilion, conducts a rigorous selection process. Artists are nominated and assessed by curators, critics, and cultural institutions from across the country. Their proposals are scrutinised for artistic excellence, innovation, and international significance—a combination that signals not just mastery of craft, but an ability to spark conversation on a global stage. The final decision rests with the Pavilion Commissioner and the Visual Arts Advisory Group.
It’s a recognition that places an artist at the very pinnacle of contemporary British art, transforming their career and showcasing their vision to a global audience. For Himid, whose work thrives on dialogue, this platform offers a chance to create a profound, immersive experience in Venice’s historic spaces.
Reimagining the British Pavilion
Himid is renowned for pushing the boundaries of painting, sculpture, and installation, fusing textures, narratives, and sound to construct spaces that feel alive, vivid, and socially urgent. Emma Dexter, Director of Visual Arts and the British Council Collection, describes Himid’s approach as “a radical optimism combined with incisive social critique,” noting that her exhibition will transform the Pavilion into a journey of discovery.
For Venice 2026, Himid’s work promises to be both playful and profound, intimate yet expansive—a conversation across centuries and continents, a reminder that history is never neutral, and that art can illuminate the stories we have forgotten.
From her early curatorial triumphs to her recent global recognition, Lubaina Himid has always worked at the intersection of history, identity, and imagination. Venice will be the latest—and most spectacular—stage for her audacious vision, a moment that promises to resonate far beyond the gilded canals and crowded pavilions of Italy’s floating city.
In 2026, the British Pavilion will not just exhibit art—it will tell a story, vibrant and urgent, through the eyes of one of Britain’s most brilliant and fearless artists.
Frieze London 2025.PHOTO: LINDA NYLIND. COURTESY OF FRIEZE
By Steven Smith
“This was Frieze in its most mature form — calm, confident, and beautifully human.”
This October, Regent’s Park once again became the beating heart of contemporary culture, as London’s premier art fair returned with a noticeably more reflective air. Gone were the flashing lights and social-media gimmicks that once dominated the scene — in their place, a quiet confidence and an emphasis on meaning over market value. Frieze London 2025 proved that the true allure of art lies not in the roar of spectacle, but in surprise, sincerity, and the occasional whisper that lingers long after the tents come down.
A Quieter Kind of Dazzle
Each autumn, the white tents of Frieze rise like a sleek temporary city, drawing curators, collectors, and celebrities who glide between installations and champagne bars. But this year, something had shifted. The fair felt calmer — less about performance, more about purpose.
The tone was set from the outset. New entrance pavilions — elegant aluminium structures created by A Studio Between using 75 per cent recycled metal — signalled sustainability rather than status. It was a small yet telling gesture: Frieze has grown up.
Inside, the fair’s redesigned layout provided space to breathe. Instead of the crowding and visual overload of previous years, this edition privileged air, light, and contemplation. And what stood out most was originality. You weren’t left thinking “Hirst homage” or “Bacon knock-off” — though artistic lineage was there — the work felt boldly its own.
Frieze remains vast — more than 280 galleries across Frieze London and Frieze Masters — yet this year’s coherence was striking. Focus, the section dedicated to younger galleries, became its emotional anchor. Thirty-plus exhibitors explored climate, identity, displacement, and belonging with genuine urgency rather than opportunistic messaging.
One standout installation — a delicate shelter of reclaimed textiles and timber — spoke quietly yet powerfully of “home”. No gimmicks. Just humanity.
Even the major galleries opted for subtlety. Gagosian, Hauser & Wirth, and White Cube resisted spectacle in favour of introspection: small, thoughtful works that drew viewers in rather than overwhelming them.
“Frieze 2025 is a fair about stories, not stunts.”
The Market Mood
Frieze is both cultural pilgrimage and high-stakes shop floor — and the cooling market was impossible to ignore. Economic uncertainty has made collectors judicious, especially in Britain. Yet the fair thrived precisely because it did not mask reality.
Dealers confessed that sales were careful but consistent. Relationships mattered more than rapid-fire transactions. There was less frenzy, more trust — and with it, a sense of optimism that art still carries weight when times feel lean.
Art with Intention
What defined Frieze this year wasn’t a single blockbuster piece — but a collective tone of intentionality. Works spoke across booths about survival, memory, fragility, and the search for place.
Even architecture joined the conversation. Those aluminium pavilions — modest in shine yet rich in idea — mirrored the fair’s shift: modernism stepping into mindfulness.
Once known for glamour and provocation, Frieze has found its inner voice. No longer chasing viral moments, it invited something rarer: genuine attention.
“If previous years shouted, this one spoke — and everyone listened.”
Naudline Pierre, Bathers, (2025). PHOTO: COURTESY OF NAUDLINE PIERRE AND JAMES COHAN
Moments of Stillness
Frieze 2025 balanced buzz with calm. The chatter of negotiations coexisted with long, quiet looks. Visitors paused not because works were famous — but because they were interesting.
Climate anxiety, migration and belonging were recurring ideas, but handled with nuance rather than sloganising. There was vulnerability — a powerful antidote in a world polished to a shine.
Where It Wobbles
A fair this size still overwhelms. After several hours, even the sharpest eye risks softening into what insiders call “booth blur”. And while sustainability was championed, the contradiction of air-freighted masterpieces inside temporary architecture remains unresolved.
Yet for Frieze, these were growing pains — not failings.
“After three hours, the brain begins to flatten everything into booth blur — but somehow, this year, the art fought back.”
London’s Moment
Amid market turbulence, Frieze reaffirmed London’s role as the art world’s soulful heart. Where Basel can feel clinical and New York transactional, London offers intellect tempered with humour — grit paired with grace.
A temporary city in a timeless park: that is its poetry.
Frieze London 2025 was the grown-up edition — less showmanship, more sincerity. It favoured ideas over Instagram, meaning over money. It reminded us that great art doesn’t always demand attention. Sometimes it waits. Sometimes it whispers. And sometimes, if you pause long enough, it tells you exactly what you needed to hear.
“This was Frieze in its most mature form — calm, confident, and beautifully human.”
Celebrating my best pals birthday was just a dream.
My best pals birthday in superb surroundings .
France’s Dordogne is no stranger to charm, but this tiny wine-soaked village might just be its best-kept secret
By Steven Smith
Five days in a southwest French village left me sun-warmed, wine-softened, and wondering how I’d lived this long without knowing Saussignac existed. This is rural France at its most painterly — all rolling vineyards, candlelit dinners, and the slow thrum of a life well-lived.
The Birthday That Changed Everything
When my best friend invited me away for her birthday, I braced for Dubai. Maybe Ibiza. Somewhere loud and expensive, where my idea of a lie-in would be drowned out by basslines and foam cannons.
Instead, she said, “Saussignac.”
The name meant nothing to me — until an artist friend described it as “wines of the gods, food like nectar, and a village so pretty it could be in a Merchant Ivory film.” He added, with a wink, “Some hotels feel like art galleries — all taste, style, and warmth.”
Two weeks later, we were landing at Bergerac Airport, a dinky 1960s gem that could double as a film set. In 10 minutes, we were in the hire car. In 20, we were in another world.
“Darling, you don’t do anything there. You immerse yourself in beauty.”
First Glimpse of a Slower Life
The drive was a moving painting: rolling vineyards, fields of wildflowers, terracotta-tiled farmhouses unchanged for centuries. Every curve of the road offered a new gasp-worthy view.
My Secret Sanctuary
While the rest of the party checked into the lively hub of the village, I chose a private B&B run by Dutch hostess Ingrid Leenders.
Her place is a pocket of peace: rustic gardens, a tiled pool, and rooms with open-plan bathrooms (romantics, take note). No TV, but strong Wi-Fi, a coffee machine, and a small fridge. Each morning at seven sharp, breakfast appeared — fresh bread, cheeses, eggs, and orange juice.
Ingrid herself? A doll. Always ready with tips, and never in the way.
Meanwhile, my friends took over Le 1500, a 12th-century building transformed into a boutique haven by retired businessman-turned-artist 58 year old Michael F. Rumsby and his husband, Lee McNeal.
Every room is a curated mix of antiques and art. A history room and library invite slow afternoons. Outside, the walled garden hides a pool, bar, and dining terrace that in summer becomes an event space — open-air films, long-table dinners, and the infamous Bad Boys Burger Night.
Our first evening was spent at Mélange, a family-run restaurant with stone walls, castle views, and a menu that changes weekly. Owners Melanie and Charlie are culinary magicians — especially for those of us with “difficult” diets. My pescatarian self and vegan friends were both spoiled.
If I ever marry, it will be at Château Lestevenie.
Owners Petrie and Jaco, both South Africans trained in the Stellenbosch winelands, host Summer Soirées so perfect they feel scripted: live jazz, vineyard sunsets, and rotating menus of Mexican, Indian, and French cuisine — all paired with their own sparkling Lestevenie Brut.
Just a short stroll from the village, Château Fayolle offers 130 acres of vines and woodland, plus terrace lunches that must be pre-ordered.
Wine here is history: since 1254, Saussignac and Bergerac bottles have graced Europe’s finest tables. Today, owners Frank and Riki Campbell are taking it global.
Some in our group opted for Château des Vigiers — a blend of fairways, fine dining, and château glamour between Bergerac and Saint-Émilion. It’s home to a championship golf course, a Michelin-starred restaurant, and a choice between historic suites or sleek relais rooms.
Saussignac isn’t about ticking off sights. It’s about strolling past shuttered stone houses, tasting wine under vine-laced terraces, and lingering until the sky blushes.
Bring a car — taxis are rare and expensive. Pre-book meals and flag any dietary quirks in advance. And then? Let the place work its quiet magic.
“By the end of the week my body was lighter, my mind calmer, my soul recharged.”
If You Go
Best time to visit: May–September for warm evenings and vineyard events. Getting there: British Airways (London City) and Ryanair (Stansted) fly direct to Bergerac. Car hire essential. Don’t miss: Mélange for dinner, Château Lestevenie’s Summer Soirée, Château Fayolle’s terrace lunch. Pack for: Lazy afternoons, lingering dinners, and the urge to never leave.
Steven Smith explores the emotional impact of going on holiday—how it can make or break friendships, test your sanity, and turn dream escapes into nightmare getaways. PLUS: His top tips for surviving travel with friends.
According to a Daily Telegraph survey conducted by Lloyds of London, eight out of ten people suffer from pre-holiday stress. In fact, numerous studies suggest that after divorce, house moves, and bereavement, going on holiday ranks as one of life’s most stressful events.
The Passion for Travel
Like many in the LGBTQ+ community, I’m fortunate to have the means and opportunity to travel widely—something linked to higher disposable income among our demographic. For me, travel is a passion. I’ve trekked Machu Picchu in Peru, cruised the Nile, dived beneath waterfalls, and flown over volcanoes by helicopter in Maui. I cherish those moments. Travelling with my partner of 18 years was always a joy. Sure, we had the odd delay or hiccup, but I adore airports and took most things in stride.
Add college friends into the mix, however, and you’ve got a different story. Assuming your friends have the same holiday agenda—or are as organised as you—can be a huge mistake.
Chiang Mai erotic garden.
Underpants Around His Ankles
It was Christmas morning in Gran Canaria. In the living room of my one-bedroom apartment, a large bearded bear of a man lay passed out on the floor. No, it wasn’t Santa. He had his trousers and underpants around his ankles—but had forgotten to remove his shoes. Behind him stood a naked, naughty elf. It was my friend, Brian Murphy, and I was ready to kill him.
My other friend, Blake Matthews, was in the villa next door and had been banging the headboard all night with a man who claimed to be a straight male escort from Croydon. Right.
Not quite the festive morning I had imagined. Despite our prior agreement not to bring random men home—so we could enjoy a calm Christmas breakfast together—it had quickly descended into chaos.
I packed my rucksack, stepped over the bear, and went off to enjoy a solo breakfast on the seafront.
What had I been thinking?
Gran Canaria wasn’t even my idea. A travel company, pleased with a few articles I’d written, gifted me a flight and villa for Christmas. It was more of a studio apartment, really. They kindly offered a discounted flight for a guest, and before long, five people wanted in. Suddenly, I was playing travel agent, and everyone started bitching about each other. Stress had already set in before we’d even packed our bags.
Two days before departure, I sent out a group text with flight times, terminal info, and villa directions. I added that I’d be checking in solo and would see them either at the gate or on the flight.
Blake replied: “CONTROL FREAK. RELAX. I’LL BE THERE.”
Another couple pulled out, saying Blake had offended them. I didn’t have the energy to argue.
At Gatwick, I stood alone at the gate. Just as boarding began, Brian appeared, full of excuses. No sign of Blake—until mid-air, when I felt a strange sense of relief. Blake had spent the last few days moaning about Brian, only to suddenly announce: “Oh, I love Brian,” as he puffed a menthol cigarette. A week later, the arrangement of Brian and me sharing an apartment—with Blake next door—became another source of friction.
Welcome to Hell
Arriving in Gran Canaria, my jaw dropped. “Ye Olde Queen Vic” pub signs flashed before me. The apartment was basic but expected. That didn’t stop Brian from moaning. He couldn’t wait to hit the notorious Yumbo Centre in search of his first conquest. The only upside? It was a five-minute walk, saving us taxi fares.
Determined to make the best of it, we set out. En route, we saw a fight—and a man get stabbed. Charming.
The Yumbo Centre—a giant shopping mall by day, gay Mecca by night—was surreal. You’d hope to be inspired by loving couples.
“We’ve been together for 29 years and we’re totally faithful,” said a pair from Blackpool.
“Gosh, I hope I can say that one day,” I replied. “Although… why is your hand on my bottom?”
“Oh, we share people.” So much for romance.
The drinks were cheap, the sun was shining, and I told myself everything would be fine—if I made it back to the apartment alive.
Act Two, Scene One
Blake finally arrived, fresh from flying British Airways business class—and made sure everyone knew it. Still drunk, he boasted: “Darling, I had gear with me and did a line with the steward in the galley.” Pure fiction, but the crowd laughed.
Blake, who had travelled with me many times, was always a walking contradiction. With his Freddie Mercury moustache, even a blind dog could tell he was gay. Yet he’d hide his Spartacus Guide under a Jackie Collins novel and insist on getting out of cabs a few streets away from gay bars.
Now he and Brian were lounging like extras from Dynasty, wrapped in white towels and robes, trashing the accommodation. “Steven, we’re not complaining but… what were you thinking?” said Blake, dramatically.
I found them a new place—one that suited their tastes. They weren’t thrilled. Now half-naked and on their fourth glass of bubbly, Blake puffed on another menthol and quipped, “I’m sure I’ll grow fond of the pet cockroach in my room.”
Then he hugged me. “Darling, we want to be with you. That’s why we came.”
Thankfully, my ex and his partner arrived, bringing some much-needed sanity. I hired a car and explored Gran Canaria properly. The island is beautiful—surprisingly so. Even the Yumbo grew on me. As long as I left before Alexis and Krystal stirred from their beauty sleep, I could enjoy peaceful days and return for cocktails and Blake’s nightly one-man show.
Did I mention I met my dream guy there, too?
The Police Officer’s Boyfriend
He wasn’t single—his partner was head of LGBTQ+ liaison for the police. “We share,” he said. “Are you up for it?”
“You’re kidding! If he were mine, no one would be touching him but me.”
I may have added, “Shame on you. You’re supposed to set an example.”
No judgment—so long as it’s consensual and no one is exploited—it’s just not my bag.
We saw each other a few times back home. But what goes around comes around. He stayed with his partner.
Was it bad friend choices? Or just me, dreaming of a jolly gay Christmas and failing to plan the logistics?
Holiday Rules and Snorers
There are so many stories. Like the time I woke to a stranger in bed with me and my best friend. Or when someone “forgot” their stage name didn’t match their passport.
Then there’s Adam.
Ours was a mature friendship. We talked things through. A year in, he asked, “Fancy a holiday?”
Alarm bells. Holidays can make or break a friendship. But I liked Adam, and when he suggested a cruise down the Nile from Luxor, I was sold.
Adam warned me he snored—and wow, did he. I recorded it (he wasn’t thrilled), but it prompted him to finally address the issue. Snoring can ruin holidays; one of my friends recently had to sleep by the pool just to escape her partner’s decibels.
Egypt. Wow.
The Nile cruise was magical. A shaky start (our airport transfer never arrived), but even dashing through dark backstreets in a cab to find our boat, we laughed all the way.
Sitting in the Winter Palace Hotel in Luxor—home of Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile—Adam asked, “Shall we go see the sights?”
“Let’s just do Glamour’s Five-Star Hotel of the Nile for now,” I said.
We howled.
We discussed finances before the trip—essential. “It all comes out in the wash” was our motto. Sometimes one of us was more flush, and we’d cover each other. No awkwardness.
We all know the tightwad friend: the one who orders a starter and tap water, then helps themselves to the shared wine. But when it’s their round? Crickets.
Salmonella and Sensibility
Adam and I had many great adventures. He was the perfect pseudo-boyfriend. But eventually, someone else would come along. In Sitges, that’s exactly what happened.
We never planned for it—mistake. Sitting alone at dinner while he held hands with someone else wasn’t fun. We should’ve talked it through, as we usually did. Thankfully, it didn’t harm our friendship.
I can be a walking holiday disaster. Mosquitoes treat me like a buffet. I’ve caught Hepatitis B in India and salmonella in the Dominican Republic. But it never puts me off.
Because travel is freedom. And when shared with the right friend, it’s unforgettable. No matter how grown-up we are, caring for one another never goes out of fashion.
Have a great holiday season.
My Top 6 Tips for Travelling With a Friend:
Talk first. Discuss your expectations for the trip.
Be honest. Are you going for fun—or just to split costs?
Acknowledge your quirks. Any snoring, early riser habits, etc.
Talk about money. Set clear agreements in advance.
Respect personal space. Holidaying together doesn’t mean joined at the hip.
Look after each other. The best travel souvenir is a stronger friendship.
It was hard not to stifle a chuckle when I spotted the old familiar sign on the London Underground: “DO NOT STARE.”Really? How is it even possible to avoid making eye contact—no matter how hard you try—when there’s a man across from you mining his nose with such vigour that you worry his fingers might pop out through his eyeball? Or that couple in the corner, so utterly absorbed in each other that you’re not quite sure where to look—especially when she takes a break from kissing to slide her tongue into his ear. lets not start on ” If you see something that does not look right please report it ”
But that’s London for you. A glorious, bustling, cosmopolitan city teeming with people from every walk of life, each more stylish or eccentric than the last. The Tube isn’t just a means of transportation—it’s a rolling reality show. Every trip, every change of line, brings a new cast of characters and a fresh episode of human theatre.
Personally, I’ve always loved the art of people-watching. Airports were once my favourite stage. I’d arrive early just for the chance to observe humanity in transit. Back when loudspeakers used to blare out dramatic announcements—“Mrs Jones, please come to Desk Seven. You have an urgent message.” I never followed to see who Mrs Jones was, but oh, how my imagination ran wild. Maybe she was running away with a lover who’d had a sudden change of heart. Maybe she was being lured back to a secret double life. Most likely, it was something terribly dull—but still, it was enough to get the mental movie reels spinning.
Imagination has always been my saving grace. It’s carried me through life’s best and worst moments. The joy of observing life and its never-ending cast of characters continues to fuel me. As Shakespeare said: “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts.”
But let’s return to the Underground, which has been whisking Londoners beneath the city’s streets since 1863. That “DO NOT STARE” sign, upon closer inspection, had smaller print I hadn’t noticed before: “INTRUSIVE STARING OF A SEXUAL NATURE IS SEXUAL HARASSMENT AND IS NOT TOLERATED.” Fair point—and an important one.
Over a decade ago, I interviewed twelve Page 3 models about their experiences with dating and sex. Shockingly—but sadly not surprisingly—every single one of them had experienced some form of sexual harassment on the Tube. From groping in crowded carriages to lingering, uncomfortable touches during rush hour, it was a grim reminder of the darker side of commuting. Everyone deserves to travel safely, without fear of violation or discomfort.
Yes, let’s stamp out intrusive behaviour. But while we’re putting up signs, how about a few more reminders—common courtesies that could make life better for all of us packed into those rolling metal sausages?
Here’s my updated list of suggested announcements for the London Underground, to be posted right alongside “DO NOT STARE”:
Uncross your legs. No one wants your muddy footprint on their trousers when the train jerks to a stop.
Remove your backpack. Place it between your feet—don’t swing it around like a medieval weapon during rush hour.
Move your bags. That seat is not reserved for your handbag. Let others sit down.
Offer your seat. A little kindness never goes out of fashion. If you see someone elderly, pregnant, or visibly struggling, give up your seat. Don’t pretend to be engrossed in your phone or suddenly blind. But again… DO NOT STARE.
Leave the snacks at home. This isn’t the Orient Express. No one wants to arrive smelling like a bucket of fried chicken or a spicy chow mein from Mr Wok.
Escalator etiquette matters. DO NOT stop dead at the top to check your phone or sort your shopping. Move clear—or risk being shoved, bumped, or bruised.
If someone touches you inappropriately, report it immediately. We all have a right to feel safe.
London’s Underground is legendary around the world for good reason. It’s fast, far-reaching, and, if you ask me, oddly charming. Yes, the fares could be more reasonable—please, Sadiq Khan, no more price hikes—but it remains one of the most efficient and fascinating ways to travel.
So let’s respect it. Let’s love it. And let’s all do our bit to keep the journey pleasant for everyone.
And remember—DO NOT STARE. Even if that Colin Farrell lookalike in rugby shorts gets on at Clapham.
Dr Anna Kennedy with the legendary John Lee Bird Gallery owner Marcus Jake .
In a city as vast and ever-evolving as London, it’s becoming increasingly rare to stumble upon a space that immediately feels like you’ve entered somewhere truly special. Tucked away on the Greenwich Peninsula, just a stone’s throw from the O2 Arena, The Firepit Gallery isn’t just another art venue — it’s a living, breathing community. The moment you step inside, you are immersed in a kaleidoscope of colour, creativity, and character. It feels like a sanctuary, a hive of inspiration and warmth, especially for those with an eye for flair, originality, and a desire for genuine connection.
Recently, Firepit Gallery played host to the closing night of The Autism & Art Show, a vibrant and inclusive celebration of neurodiverse talent. The event brought together an eclectic mix of artists and creatives, showcasing a dynamic range of work that broke boundaries and challenged perceptions. On hand to mark the occasion were some of the most exciting and diverse voices in the art world. Spanish-born street artist Piluca, known for her bold murals and graffiti-inspired work, joined celebrated photographer and artist Annemarie Bickerton. Also exhibiting was Alistair Blaster Artz, whose bold, futuristic pieces drew crowds.
Dt Anna Kennedy OBE with the acting royalty Vicki Michelle
The legendary John Lee Bird made a much-anticipated appearance, arriving just in time to greet Dr. Anna Kennedy OBE, a champion of autism awareness and inclusion. It’s moments like these — the spontaneous meetings, the shared laughs, the applause and admiration — that make the Firepit feel like much more than just a gallery. It’s a place where emerging and established talents mingle with activists, celebrities, and visitors from all walks of life. A kind of creative salon, echoing the golden age of artistic gatherings in Paris and London, where art wasn’t just displayed — it was lived.
Firepit is a home for Annemarie Bickerton celebrity photographer and artist .
I once described The Firepit as “the Willy Wonka of the art world,” and the comparison still holds true. There’s a sense of wonder in every corner, from the ever-changing exhibitions to the vibrant murals, installations, and sculptures that inhabit the space. It’s a gallery, yes, but also a home — one with a full-stocked bar, laughter in the air, and a real sense of belonging. It feels like stepping into a dreamscape where the lines between artist, viewer, and friend gently blur.
At the heart of it all is Marcus Jake, the visionary behind The Firepit Gallery. Marcus isn’t just the founder — he’s the soul of the place. Equal parts curator, host, mentor, and mischief-maker, Marcus has created something rare: a truly inclusive, vibrant, and welcoming environment where everyone feels seen. Whether you’re a collector, a curious wanderer, or someone simply seeking a safe and inspiring space, Marcus will greet you with open arms and infectious enthusiasm.
Gallery owner Marcus Jake
His vision for Firepit goes far beyond traditional art world boundaries. The gallery regularly hosts workshops, talks, performances, and community events. It’s a beacon of light for the LGBTQ+ community, a space where self-expression isn’t just accepted — it’s celebrated. From drag evenings to life-drawing classes, from vinyl DJ nights to panel discussions about mental health and inclusion, Firepit’s calendar is as diverse and electric as its art.
One of the gallery’s standout features is its monthly wine-tasting and dinner evenings. These events are less about formality and more about connection. Attendees gather around a long communal table, sampling wines and sharing stories while surrounded by stunning artwork. The conversations flow freely, from art and culture to politics, identity, and everything in between. These evenings have become a cherished ritual for many — a time to pause, reflect, and feel part of something bigger.
There’s also something very special about the way the gallery bridges the gap between high art and community. Too often, galleries can feel cold or elitist, but Firepit is the opposite. Here, art is accessible, emotional, and rooted in lived experience. Visitors are encouraged to talk to the artists, share their responses, and engage with the work on a personal level. Whether you’re buying your first print or attending your tenth show, you’re treated as part of the Firepit family.
The gallery’s physical space mirrors this ethos. With its industrial-chic aesthetic, vivid lighting, and rotating displays, it feels ever-changing yet instantly familiar. The bar is often the social centre of the room, where Marcus and his team are on hand not only to pour drinks but also to engage in meaningful conversation. There’s a nostalgia to the place — a reminder of the old salons and cabarets of Paris and Soho, where people came not just for the art, but for the dialogue, the inspiration, and the community.
Hanging out at The Firepitt with artists and friends
As London changes and gentrification continues to reshape its cultural spaces, The Firepit stands as a powerful counterpoint — fiercely independent, passionately inclusive, and gloriously vibrant. It’s a place where stories are shared, identities are embraced, and creativity flows freely.
In many ways, The Firepit Gallery is more than just a hidden gem. It’s a movement. A space that proves that art still has the power to unite, to challenge, and to heal. Whether you’re attending an exhibition, joining a wine tasting, participating in a workshop, or simply popping in for a chat, you leave feeling uplifted, seen, and inspired.
And perhaps that’s the greatest magic of all — not just what you find at The Firepit, but what it awakens in you.
So next time you find yourself near the O2, take a detour. Step into this creative haven where art, community, and a touch of magic collide. You may just discover your new favourite place in London.
The Firepit Gallery No.2, Upper Riverside 10 Cutter Ln, Ground Floor Unit Greenwich Peninsula London SE10 0XX 📧 info@firepit.art 🌐 www.firepit.art
To many, I might seem like the life and soul of the party, but in reality, I’m quite shy. Outside the familiar setting of events and friends’ parties, the thought of going to bars or clubs fills me with anxiety and dread. Like many, I want to meet new people, try new things, and expand my social horizons. After the passing of my former partner, I’ve struggled more than I care to admit—even to those closest to me.
Saturday nights are usually spent writing or watching a box set, feeling safe in my own space. But this year, I resolved to change that. The question was: how?
2Shades agony aunt Heidi Gammon suggested that instead of heading to the buzzy clubs and bars of Soho and Vauxhall, I should try something different. My tastes have always been eclectic, so I took her up on the challenge.
It wasn’t long before I found the perfect option—one that ticked all the boxes: a wine tasting with dinner. Of course, I couldn’t go alone, so I brought along 2Shades beauty editor Clare Mc Sweeney and her beloved teddy bear coat (don’t worry, no teddy bears were harmed in the making of it!).
The wine tasting was hosted at one of London’s most talked-about galleries—Firepit. Located on the Greenwich Peninsula, right by the banks of the Thames, Firepit is an experimental and forward-thinking artist collective, making it the perfect setting for an evening of culture, conversation, and, of course, fine wine.
Held on the last Saturday of each month, the wine-tasting masterclass is hosted by former restaurateur and sommelier “Charlie” Young, a man renowned for his deep knowledge and infectious passion for wine. Charlie’s reputation precedes him—his expertise is matched only by his ability to make learning about wine both engaging and thoroughly enjoyable.
Doors open at 5:30 PM, giving guests a half-hour to settle in, mingle, and explore the gallery’s latest exhibitions before the tasting officially begins at 6:00 PM. The setting itself—Firepit, a cutting-edge artist collective on the Greenwich Peninsula—adds an extra layer of creativity and intrigue to the evening.
Charlie pours the wine and chats .
Now, if you’ve ever attended a wine tasting where the host droned on endlessly, more focused on their own cleverness than on making the experience enjoyable, you might be wary. I’ve been there. In fact, I once attended a tasting where even my endlessly patient and sophisticated friend finally snapped, exclaiming, “FOR F—’S SAKE, JUST POUR IT!”
Thankfully, Charlie’s approach was the complete opposite. He made a point of ensuring the evening was lighthearted, interactive, and fun—without ever compromising on substance. He didn’t just educate; he entertained. And judging by the lively atmosphere in the room, he had a gift for bringing together a wonderfully diverse and genuinely lovely group of people.
The tasting featured six carefully selected wines, each with its own story and character. Gallery owner Marcus Jake was also on hand, standing by with a bucket for those who wished to spit or discard their samples—though, let’s be honest, few took him up on that offer. His primary role for the evening? Acting as Charlie’s glamorous assistant, which, in reality, mostly involved keeping everyone’s glasses generously topped up.
The wine tasting flies by in just over an hour, but the evening doesn’t end there. Charlie stays on for the dinner portion, offering expert advice on wine pairings and sharing fascinating insights in his signature engaging style.
Dinner is served in the gallery itself, creating a relaxed and sociable atmosphere. Guests—many of whom started the evening as strangers—naturally connect over a two-course meal, exchanging thoughts on the wines, the artwork, and life in general. The sense of camaraderie is undeniable, making it feel more like an intimate dinner party than a formal event.
2Shades Clare Mc Sweeney and Annemarie Bickerton with friends join the fun https://www.firepit.art
For those who prefer just the wine tasting experience, tickets are available separately, with no obligation to stay for dinner. However, gallery curator Matthew warmly encourages guests to linger, explore the artwork, and enjoy another drink at their leisure.
“We want people to experience the gallery, to feel at home in the space,” Marcus explains. “That’s why we keep ticket prices as low as possible. The wine tastings and dinners have been a real success, bringing people together in a way that feels effortless and enjoyable.”
And a success it certainly was. 2Shades will definitely be back.
Date and time
Saturday, April 26 · 6 – 10:30pm GMT+1. Doors at 6pm
Regional French Wine Masterclass with optional two-course dinner
An informal and exciting wine masterclass featuring six premium wines from the Loire Valley, Madiran in the Southwest, the Rhone Valley and Provence. Presented byVinotecafounder Charlie Young
There are two tickets:
Masterclass £16.50 per person, 6:00pm to 7:15pm
Two-course dinner £16.50 per person, 7:30pm to 10:30pm
Communal two-course dinner, with glasses or bottles of the wines featured in the Masterclass from £6 per glass
Regional French Wine Masterclass with Charlie Young
Anjou Blanc ‘Large Soif!’ 2020 – Terra Vita Vinum, Anjou, Loire (white)
Chinon Clos de la Bonneliere 2020 – Chateau de la Bonneliere, Chinon, Loire (red)
Pacherenc du Vic Bilh Sec 2021 – Domaine Laplace, Madiran, South West
Madiran ‘Aydie l’Origine’ 2021 – Domaine Laplace, Madiran, South West
Côtes du Rhone Vieilles Vignes 2018 – Famille Gras, Rhone South
Coteaux de Béziers Chardonnay Prestige 2022 – Chateau Preignes Le Neuf, Provence
Two-Course Dinner
Main course
Cider-braised roast ham hock with Jersey potatoes and spring peas
Dessert
Hot cross bun bread & butter pudding
Vegetarian/vegan options available on request
All masterclass wines available to buy by-the-glass or bottle
A Note from Firepit.
We have a challenge 25 policy. So please bring ID that proves you are over 18, if you are lucky enough to look under 25!
Masterclass starts at 6:00pm, you are welcome to come earlier and enjoy the gallery space.
Thank- You Nic Crowe and Jasmine Young of Greater Anglia . By Steven Smith
In this day and age, people are quick to complain about British transport in general. At the forefront of these complaints is often the rail network, and in many cases, the criticism is justified.
One of my New Year’s resolutions this year was to try and focus on positives rather than negatives. It’s my delight, therefore, to share a story that highlights just why we are lucky to still have people with incredible work ethics and a genuine commitment to customer service in the UK.
This story involves the team at Greater Anglia, the train line that covers the Norwich to London Liverpool Street route.
To protect privacy, I won’t use the real name of the passenger involved. However, everyone else in this story is real.
Every year, a dear friend of mine, who retired to sunny rural France, makes a trip back to the UK. Despite living abroad, he still enjoys the occasional visit to his old stomping grounds. However, his health has been deteriorating in recent years, and we were uncertain whether he’d be able to make the journey this time.
Imagine my joy when I learned he had landed on British soil! Though his voice sounded a little strained when we spoke while he was in Norwich, he assured me he’d be in good spirits by the time he arrived in London. We planned to meet up, enjoy some banter, and share a meal at our favorite spot—Balan’s in Soho.
I was all set, suited, and ready to pick him up on Friday, January 17, when I noticed a missed call. Returning it, I was distressed to find it was from the senior train conductor, Nic Crowe. My friend had fallen ill and was taken off the train at Ipswich. Nic sounded genuinely concerned and asked me to call him back.
Here’s what happened: an observant train host, Jasmine Young, had noticed my friend struggling as he boarded the train in Norwich. She approached to help with his bag and quickly realised he was unwell. Jasmine called first responders, and an ambulance was waiting at Ipswich to take him to the local hospital.
That could have been the end of the story. The train team could have handed the matter over to the medics and left it at that. However, Nic realised my friend was traveling alone and unfamiliar with Ipswich. When I called back, Nic suggested I meet the train he was on and then join the team on their way back to Ipswich so they could help me navigate the situation.
I cannot thank Nic and Jasmine enough. They truly went above and beyond. They put me on the next train, explained everything that had happened, with my friend and made sure I was well looked after. At Ipswich, another team member greeted me and introduced me to the efficient customer service staff.
After eight long hours, my friend, though still frail, was cleared to travel. With me accompanying him, the customer service team ensured everything went smoothly.
Having traveled extensively, I can confidently say you’d be hard-pressed to find better people than Nic and Jasmine when it comes to customer safety and service. Greater Anglia, you are incredibly fortunate to have them, and any passenger traveling on your trains can rest assured they’re in safe hands.
George Khoury, a 40-year old bouncer who touched our souls at 2Shades on our night out, unaware that we’d be meeting an angel at the doorstep of a pub in Elephant & Castle
He will be writing for 2Shades whenever his wisdom takes the wheels and he’s got plenty of it.
George Khoury’s, “Let’s start with you” in his own words.
“One of the deepest yearnings I’ve had is to learn and understand who I am, what my purpose is, what I need to do to continue to grow, develop and flourish. This is something that each of us require to feel true happiness, ensuring we put ourselves first and utilise the people and opportunities around us to be the best version of ourselves that we can. This emphasis on your own existence is what really brings about the concept of self-love.
George Khoury
“If you don’t love yourself, who else will….” These are the truest words that my mother once told me. I remember hearing this but not truly listening or understanding the implications.
What do we want for the people and things we love? To protect them and keep them safe, to make them happy, support them through difficult times, encourage them to understand their self-worth, their positive qualities, develop their strengths while improving and managing their weaknesses. We would do anything for these people to show them that life is worth living and that everything will be okay. There is a sense of fulfilment and joy that comes with encouraging someone to shine. In most cases the person that loses out on this support, encouragement, and love is ourselves. How can someone who has been there your whole life be unappreciated, disregarded, and sacrificed?
From birth we are pure, vulnerable, and dependent. We are a product of the life we are born into. We learn what we’re shown and understand the world in that way. Our surroundings become our reality and we are told what is right and wrong, what our values should be, what is important, what is expected, and how we can be as happy or successful as the people before us. Everyone needs a mentor, a support mechanism, and a community that helps you build the road ahead rather than leave you to find your own way in a complicated and challenging world,
I was born into a mixture of cultures, ethnicities, and languages. I always knew I was a boy but I didn’t care. My gender was fluid and not defined. I was allowed to be a curious child and was never judged or labelled from a very young age.
I was occasionally asked at the after-school club “are you a girl or a boy?” With my long hair that I could tie into a small ponytail like my fathers. He has always been my hero. He is strong, brave, resilient, and gives everything he has to better himself and provide for his family. The first one to respond to a loud noise at night and the first one out of the door to get to work early and put food on the table. These are qualities that are inspiring and meant that I was lucky enough to have a strong father figure in my life. My only issue was feeling that I would never be good enough or be able to make him proud.
From the moment I started year 7 I stood out from everyone else. I was a positive and curious soul who wanted to make friends and learn. The reality was much different. Either the pupils were confused by the way I was, felt threatened or generally disliked me because I did not fit the idealistic norms of society. The people who did want to be my friend had to accept the burden of being associated with me. The name calling, being singled out, laughed at, scrutinised and analysed daily. Everyone wants an easy life and I made things complicated for them by being me, whatever that was.
My entire being contradicted the norms that these young people had been adapted to. Male presenting with a feminine and caring nature and a distinct voice that people associated with being gay. That was my reality and if it wasn’t for the values, morals, and wisdom that my parents had planted deep into my consciousness, I can honestly say that I would not be here today.
The physical and emotional abuse I was subjected to on a daily basis took away my light, my uniqueness and my purpose. It labelled and categorised me into boxes I didn’t understand or choose for myself. How could I defend something I didn’t understand or have the opportunity to identify and love? I was already what they called me and was in a body that I had no emotional connection to.
The only way I could survive was to try my hardest to be what everyone felt was normal. Lowering my voice and using less of an emotive tone, restricting my natural body movements to not stand out, trying to please everyone to make them happy and in return feel accepted and included with an actual purpose.
George Khoury
As I turn 40 and reflect on my life, I realise that there was never an issue with me at all. I have always been that same happy and glowing soul I was when I was a child. The world twisted and pulled me into a box I couldn’t fit into no matter how much I tried to.
It took losing myself and wanting a way out of this life to truly understand how special and unique I am. Exactly what my parents had been trying to show me from a young age, and why they would get so angry and disappointed in me for not recognising it. They knew I could do better and be a more successful version of myself and that the potential was always there.
This came across as disappointment and never feeling like I could be the child they wanted. I came across a key ring my parents bought me for my birthday which I never took real notice of at the time. It was during a low moment where I had to try really hard to get up and do anything.
It said “…if we could give you one thing in life, we would give you the ability to see yourself through our eyes. Only then would you realise how special you are to us,” This was the turning point for me and after wiping my tears I realised who I was, and saw the purpose I have in the world, something I had never been able to do. In this life you need to listen to the people who love you unconditionally whoever they are and find your people. If I hadn’t found my queer community and beautiful people that see me as I am without any other judgement or labelling, I would never have believed that I was an actual human being that was allowed to be me and not what the world bullied me into becoming.
I am a glowing ray of positive energy that walks through life climbing the barriers and mountains that humanity have placed in my way and keeping my fire burning no matter how cold or dark it gets, however windy or overwhelming things are, no matter how much my anxiety tries to hold me still and stop me growing, I will carry this light to bring happiness and laughter into the world.
Challenging discrimination, bullying and representing every minority that exists in this world through my gender, sexuality, and ethnic background, I will keep being me, as this was what I was always created to do.
Look after yourself and remember that it all starts with you. You can only give all of your love and soul if you have your housekeeping in order and this starts with knowing who you are. Not the constructed and created you by society, peers, and family but the true being that you are with no deflection or distraction from the issues that come with living. The beautiful, unique, and wonderful you, Let’s start there, let’s start with you.”
2Shades Magazine 