This is mostly because not everyone can afford to buy a place, and the only other option is commuting in from somewhere like Reading or Luton and spending up to four hours a day composing angsty messages to train companies on Twitter.

As much as thinking up different puns for train companies is probably fun the first few times, I imagine it gets quite boring after a while. So to avoid this, most of us choose to rent centrally until we have enough money to buy somewhere.

I for one am working towards this achievable goal, and hope to have enough money for a deposit by 2090, when I will retire to a large shed by the Regent’s Canal.

But for all those embarking on this intrinsic part of London life for the first time, here’s a short guide to the process.

Step 1. Decide between a one bed or houseshare

If you’re wondering whether to share or go solo, the following information may help you make up your mind.

To rent the average one bed property in the city, you need an income 30% higher than the UK average.”

-Rentonomy

That’s that decided, then. Houseshare it is.

Step 2. Find your perfect housemates

Websites like Spareroom or Gumtree have a wealth of completely normal, law-abiding, chilled out potential housemates all looking for a person like you to fill their room. Don’t be afraid to promote yourself – YOLO!

Step 3. Find an honest, reliable estate agent

For some reason, personal recommendations are hard to come by, so try Google instead. n.b. you may need to tweak the search criteria slightly.

Step 4. Work out your total monthly budget

The estate agent will ask how much you can afford to spend on rent. If you’re unsure, I recommend using the following equation:

Pick a number (any number)

Multiply by 800

Divide by two

 Feed it a banana

 Sing it a lullaby

Add your birth month

Subtract nine

= this completely irrelevant number is your budget

Step 5. Start viewing properties that match your criteria

Remember to factor in the language barrier when communicating your ideal property requirements. This list of frequently used Estateagentese terms and their English translations may help:

Step 6. Sign on the dotted line

Found your perfect flat? It’s time for the paperwork! Don’t worry if the estate agent asks you to edit, proof read, amend, print and send your contract while also obtaining your own references. This is all completely normal and you should expect to pay up to £150 in administration fees for the pleasure.

Step 7. Get to know your neighbours

Once you’ve moved in and made a comprehensive list of all the mouldy spots, why not introduce yourself to the neighbours? This can be done by arranging a housewarming, popping round to say “hi”, or simply just stomping on the ceiling. It won’t take long to for you all to be on first name terms.

Step 8. Relax in your new home

Now you’ve sorted the formalities, you can finally relax in your new home. At this point, you should celebrate your renter status. Enjoy your shorter commute. Revel in your central London bolthole with all the amenities you could ever want on your doorstep.

After all, you may be spending over half your monthly salary on renting, but at least you’re doing it in the best city in the world.

What could be better than that?

The post A Small (Cosy) Guide to Flat Hunting and Renting in London appeared first on She Loves London.

1. On average, I lose one Oyster card a month

2. Despite evidence to the contrary, I remain convinced you can get anywhere in London “in about twenty minutes”

3. If I ever get tickets to a big outdoor event, it will rain

So in accepting a ticket to this year’s Chelsea Flower Show, I knew that precipitation was pretty much guaranteed in the same way that I knew last year’s maiden voyage to Film4′s Summer Screen at Somerset House would be subject to Noah’s ark-style torrential downpours. And, well, whaddya know?

Which brings me to the final thing you should know:

4. I’m always right

So when Friday rolled around and an inordinate amount of the wet stuff was falling from the sky, I wasn’t at all surprised. But I decided to follow the lead of Embankment tube staff, who were in a somewhat celebratory mood.

The nearest station to the show was Sloane Square, but once I got there I wasn’t exactly sure where to go or what to look out for. A makeshift field? A large greenhouse? Clare Balding on stilts?

Instead of looking at a map or asking for directions, I decided to follow this man because something about him just said “horticulturalist”.

Luckily, my hunch was right. So once in the grounds, my next task was to find the East Village Garden because they gave me the ticket, so I set about asking people with “Ask Me!” on their tabards where it was.

“Where is the East Village garden?” I said to the tabard wearing man.

“Do you mean the artisan gardens?” he replied.

“Yes, probably” I confirmed, having no idea what that meant.

“It is that way” he said, pointing in entirely the wrong direction.

Which is why instead of finding the East Village garden, I then spent some time considering an aesthetically pleasing woodland scene made of wire.

Eventually, after looking at lots of sheds and animals made of driftwood, I found a big white tent with loads of flowers in it.

“Aha” I thought, seeing petals. “This must be where the gardens are.”

Looking back, it did seem strange that the gardens weren’t outside, because that was where Carol off BBC Breakfast seemed to be when she did the weather from there earlier in the week.

Another red flag was that some of these gardens were also upside down, which I thought was a bit odd and indicative of the fact that maybe these weren’t the right gardens after all.

At this point I decided to approach another Ask Me! person to see if they knew where the big gardens I’d seen on TV were.

“Excuse me, do you know where the East Village garden is?” I said, craning at her map.

“Do you mean the show gardens?” replied the tabarded woman.

“Yes, probably.” I replied, not really knowing what that was, either.

“They are outside, right on the other side of this tent.” she said, pointing to the exit furthest away.

Another ten minutes passed, during which time I wondered whether I would be the first person to leave Chelsea Flower Show without seeing any gardens.

Then I got distracted by a flying dinosaur.

And suddenly, it was like magic: the rain stopped, a slither of sun came out (people actually cheered. They cheered the sun), and the sea of OAPs parted in front of me. Finally, there it was.

A GARDEN.

I was worried that walking around the East Village Garden might be like when someone invites you round to their newly decorated house to “see what they’ve done with the place” and you have to say oh that’s lovely, even when you don’t know the first thing about interior design or wallpaper except that if you leave Bluetac on it for too long then it makes a mark.

Let’s just say my knowledge of flowers is…limited, at best.

I once kept a bunch of roses in an empty Ariel tub.

Shall we move on?

But thankfully, I’d landed an up close look at what was by far the nicest* garden I’d seen all day. It had this clever black hole thing in the middle of the water feature (technical term there) and I think that was my favourite bit.

Generally, it was just a bit cool to be able to get in a garden and see everything away from the crowds, while all these old people around the outside looked in wondering “what the hell is she doing in there?”

*it was the only garden I’d seen all day.

In lieu of a notepad, I engaged my Thoughtful Face and pretended I was there to do Professional iPhone Photography, and I’m not going to lie – after snapping this lovely little flower, I sort of got the taste for it.

Plus now I’d found the gardens – sorry, the Show Gardens (another technical term) – there was basically no stopping me.

I decided to leave after a while because my fingers were going numb, and I heard that Fantastic Friday was continuing down at the pub. But despite the rain, it had really been a lovely afternoon seeing what goes on at this 100 year old London institution.

Thanks to the East Village folk for shuffling me in to my first flower show (centenary edition, no less), and if you didn’t go because west London is a like a far away Never Never Land, I saw some advertising about an alternative Chelsea Fringe in Dalston, so maybe you’ll be into that.

Don’t worry, I won’t go, so there’ll definitely be sun.

Did you go to Chelsea? Have you ever been? Did you find the gardens?

The post That Time I Went to Chelsea Flower Show but Couldn’t Find the Gardens appeared first on She Loves London.

Filmed at a time when on-screen colour was just an experiment, this is an amazingly haunting look at what London was like in the 1920s – pre-war, pre-bombs, and, of course, pre-modern technology.

To quote the blurb,

Incredible colour footage of 1920s London shot by an early British pioneer of film named Claude Frisse-Greene, who made a series of travelogues using the colour process his father William – a noted cinematographer – was experimenting with. It’s like a beautifully dusty old postcard you’d find in a junk store, but moving.

If you only stop and look at one thing today, make it this.

Thoroughly brilliant and moving, with a great soundtrack; a stark reminder of both how little and how much the city has changed over the years.

J’adore.

The post London in the 1920s: An Amazing Colour Video appeared first on She Loves London.

Sometimes you get on and there’ll be loads of dogs, other times you’ll be kept happy by the nice views of London, and occasionally you might even see the odd marriage proposal.

And other times you get on the Overground and see someone on their way to play hockey on a UNICYCLE.

Yeah. You heard.

Does this count as stalking?

The unicycle / hockey stick combo made me a bit curious, because while unicyclists are kind of par for the course around London these days – sort of -  you don’t often see them on the tube, and the idea of riding one while wielding a large stick seemed like the last word in multitasking.

And I’m not going to lie, I was impressed.

Then this bloke was joined by another one, and I realised hockeying on a unicycle was in no way a solo pursuit.

So when I got home I Googled it, and apparently this is a real thing. There’s a league and everything (they shorten it to LUNIs. The website did not confirm whether this was a play on the word “looneys”, but I suspect it played a part).

Unicycle. Hockey stick. Banana skin.

This recent discovery is not only symbolic of the weird, wonderful and casually out-of-the-ordinary stuff that goes on in London on a day-to-day basis…

…but it also means that the next time you feel pleased with yourself for getting down the gym, or doing a particularly impressive downwards dog in yoga, you’ll probably think:

Somewhere in Hackney tonight, there are people riding unicycles and playing hockey at the same time.

Mind = blown.

The post Found on the Overground: Unicycle Hockey Player. appeared first on She Loves London.

World Book Night first came to my attention last year when someone in our office was giving out free copies of Ishiguru’s The Remains of the Day and I broke land speed records (and probably her hand) taking one off her to see what it was all about.

Because if you haven’t clocked it already, where freebies are concerned, my motto is “grab now; shoehorn into a blog post later“.

These are books

It’s fair to say I’m not the target recipient of a World Book Night book because I basically eat words for breakfast; stuffing them all into my face like a literary Cookie Monster.

(Bookie Monster? No. Moving on)

But happily, that fact also makes me the ideal volunteer: and so it was that I became one of the 20,000 chosen to pick a book from the list and distribute 20 copies to people who wouldn’t normally read on 23rd April this year.

The book I chose was Damage by Josephine Hart, partly the description intrigued me, but mainly because I had never read it before.

In hindsight, this turned out to be a good thing, as I later found out that books largely centred around sex, incest, inappropriate relationships and mild sadomasochism rarely say as much on the descriptive blurb.

And it’s for that reason I am currently hoping my boss’ wife, mother’s friend and the man who sells the Big Issue on the Strand all have an open mind when it comes to literature.

Hurrah!

So, how do you go about giving free books to random people?

Well, at times I wondered whether approaching people might be seen as patronising – after all, how do you tell someone who doesn’t read, from one who does? What if they don’t want your bloody book?

It’s fair to say I wasn’t expecting to feel nervous about being a book giver when I signed up, but then gradually on the morning of the 23rd, it dawned on me that this is London.

Notoriously unfriendly, surprising, get-out-of-my-way-now-or-I’ll-hurt-you London.

London, where people don’t stop for anything or anyone, except to throw the occasional punch.

I jest, of course (I haven’t punched anyone in weeks), but the fact remains: my main goal was to aim my bookish sights at easy targets, i.e. those already standing still.

Which is partly why the Big Issue man outside Somerset House got one: he’s smiley, always there rain or shine, and, well, he can’t run away because that’s his spot.

He accepted my garbled offer of a book with a grin and polite “Thank you” (although it did occur to me that he’d probably just much rather I’d bought a Big Issue – maybe one day I will, then I’ll ask him).

The receptionists at my work were also only too happy to accept, as were a few colleagues, including my boss – eek, see above – and a girl from the next office who I offered one to in the toilets in a triumph against awkward small talk by the sink.

A lady at my pilates class refused one as she’s “picky about what she reads” (not into novels featuring darkly questionable couplings, clearly) but others gratefully took the new addition to their shelves, and soon I was left with only one or two going spare.

And naturally, that meant leaving one on the 243 bus at 10pm with a drunken note explaining what to do with it. Basically: take it. It’s free. Read. Enjoy. In short, no one’s going to lynch you for picking this up.

That was last week, and now World Book Night 2013 is finished and I’ve now read my copy (and yes, it is an excellent book, and a quick read to boot), meaning there’s now one going spare.

So do you know someone who’d like a free book? Would you like a free book that may involve some scenes of a graphic nature? Have you seen someone lately who’s made you think “Blimey, what you need is a BOOK about a dark, passionate, wildly inappropriate love affair”?

If so, leave a comment below and tell me why if you’d like it, or who you want to give it to, and it shall be yours.

The post What It’s Like Volunteering for World Book Night 2013 (AKA, Being Book Jesus for the Day) appeared first on She Loves London.

“I’ve always been really interested in amphibious modes of transport. So when the Huge Cruise Company asked if I’d like an all expenses paid trip on their luxury liner to an exotic island somewhere really sunny, I jumped at the chance to check out the construction of the ship for my readers.”

For some reason, no one says “Look guys, I just fancied a freebie so bear with me on this”, instead they waffle on about doing it for their readers, or having a real affinity with the brand.

Well bloggers, the game’s up.

It’s high time we stopped pretending and admitted that occasionally, we all just want something for free so we can brag to our mates and make them wish they spent a large proportion of their time writing a blog about London instead of going out on a Friday night.

Zim Zimma, who got da key to my 4 star hotel room

Which is why …

…when the Cavendish Hotel in Mayfair asked me if I’d like to come for an overnight stay and dinner round their gaff, I was all YES, YES, ABSOLUTELY, YES, YES, WHEN? despite secretly having the following reservations:

• The average Londoner seldom needs to stay in four star hotels in London
• The average Londoner cannot afford to stay in four star hotels in London
• I think Mayfair is the devil

Luckily for me, the reception staff at the Cavendish had already anticipated this moral dilemma, and promptly solved it by uttering the following words upon check-in:

Your executive king room has been upgraded to a junior suite. It’s on a private floor, so you’ll have to take the lift to the 14th and follow the stairs to the penthouse suites. Would you like any help with your bags?

And with the magic words “upgrade”, “suite” and “penthouse” firmly in the bag: that, as they say, solved that.

So off we went to the top floor and into the Berkeley Suite, where, it could be said, the views over London weren’t half bad.

The room itself had everything a Dalston native could want from their first London hotel stay: a huge bathroom with a separate shower and bath, one of those low down basin things that blokes use to wash their nuts, bathrobes, slippers, a loofah, two sofas, a big TV with the option to watch stuff in black and white, a Bose sound dock for the room rave, a super king sized bed the size of Battersea and a Nespresso machine that neither of us knew how to work.

It also had a surplus chaise lounge which, my date remarked, “doesn’t really fit with the colour scheme of the room”, but it’s fair to say that by this point, all we wanted was an excuse to call reception using the phone next to the loo.

So with dinner not booked until 9pm, we nipped off to the Three Crowns pub round the corner for drinks and a bowl of olives which looked and tasted suspiciously like wasabi peas.

I later found out they were, indeed, wasabi peas.

The pub was home to a few bewildered looking tourists and the friendliest bar staff you’ll find any side of Whisky Mist, one of whom spent a lot of time singing along to Adele songs in an Eastern European accent.  All in all, I agreed with this reviewer who said the Three Crowns is quiet, but

a nice place to spend an hour escaping from the horrors of the West End.

In short, by the time 9pm and dinner rolled around, we were wasted.

Just kidding.

We were a bit tipsy though, so after returning to the hotel and getting directions to the Petrichor restaurant on the first floor, we were well up for getting stuck in to our dinner.

I called shotgun on the best starter and main (quail eggs with brioche soldiers, then a chicken and bacon roulade), which meant my date – who suffers from an aversion to ordering the same thing as someone else – opted for a fish combo of scallops and trout.

While I was just pleased to find out that scallops actually existed in real life, not just on Masterchef, my date was busy panicking about the upcoming trout. Because that’s what happens when you panic-order pink fish, when you don’t really like pink fish.

*pointed look*

Bellies full, cheese board consumed, wine devoured, signature scrawled – we retired to the 15th floor, where London was lit up below us and looking spectacular.

Unfortunately I forgot to take a photo of it, so here’s one of me feeding a dog some Monster Munch at a party a few weeks ago instead.

Thankfully, the Cavendish doesn’t chuck you out until 12pm at the weekends, so in the morning there was plenty of time to take in the sights of Mayfair and have a quick shop in Fortnum and Mason have an extended nap and miss breakfast before checking out.

All in all, I would highly recommend the Cavendish Hotel. The staff are lovely and polite. The food is good. The suites have lovely views. The complimentary water is brilliant for a hangover. You’ll find it tucked behind Fortnum and Mason at 81 Jermyn St  St James’s, London SW1Y 6JF.

Side note: it troubles me that I currently have nothing to compare it to. So at this point I’d like to wrap things up by saying how interested I am in feng shui and room design, and stress how much I really, really like four star hotels. 

Yep, fingers crossed.

The post Review: A Night at the Cavendish Hotel, Mayfair appeared first on She Loves London.

Image by Garry Knight, via Flickr

I mean, being positive is all well and good, but I know what you’re probably thinking.

Where are the stabbings? The beatings? The drug killings? Why do you ignore all the guns and crime that this beautiful city has to offer?

For a minute I thought I was clearly missing a trick. There’s a hyper-local blog niche for city-wide violence not yet filled by the Mail Online, and I could totally get involved.

But then last week I was scrolling through my Facebook feed and found myself on the receiving end of a string of really depressing London news updates, one after another, like a Misery in the City boxset of gloom. Someone else has it covered.

Bit intense, no?

London is clearly a bit mental underneath all the happy tourists, jaunty-hatted revellers and cultural shindigs.

And naturally, no one could blame you if reading all this violent news put you off your dinner, or diminished your appetite somewhat.

Speaking of which…

Anyone know where I can find some good fish and chips in London?

Oh! Hang on.

Fancy a chip?

Nah. Me neither.

In conclusion, I think I’ll stick to the good bits.

The post And the Award for Most Depressing Source of London News Goes to… appeared first on She Loves London.

But when you stop and look around, or do a search on Twitter, it’s clear there are many, many reasons why 8,174,100 people are proud to call this vast metropolis their home.

So I’ve compiled 13 touching snapshots of this sprawling, multi-faceted place to help us remind ourselves just why London is the best city you could possibly live in, out of ALL of them.

(Probably)

1. London offers a warm welcome to all its international visitors

Is it just me or are the people of London becoming angrier and more aggressive? Just seen a tourist being shouted at for ‘being in the way’.

— Ida (@AskeIda) March 25, 2013

2. London is a hotbed of romantic intrigue 

A man on the tube has just thrown up over a girl’s bag. Happy Valentine’s Day.

— Selin (@selinc__) February 14, 2013

3. London takes pride in its appearance

Just when you think you’ve seen it all, you see a couple of dogs in matching baby grows #london #eustonroad twitter.com/HeatherBake/st…

— Heather Steele (@HeatherBake) March 19, 2013

4. London has a robust and reliable public transport system

TFL is the cause of 99% of my failures

— Aidan (@AColeshill_) March 26, 2013

5. London is a haven for urban nature and wildlife lovers

Just saw a pigeon fly directly into a woman’s face. Full force. London is brilliant. — Kate’Brawn’Cherrell (@KateCherrell) March 24, 2013

6. London has a rich selection of inspiring public exhibitions

London is such a romantic city. And I’m not just saying that because I saw a couple in their 60s making out in a museum — Jenny (@LawlMeMaybe) March 21, 2013

7. London has an inclusive attitude towards all creeds and cultures

I’m not trying to sound melodramatic, but I’m 99% sure that I just saw Hitler on the London Underground. — peej (@kickthepj) November 28, 2012

8. London is alive with ambition and entrepreneurial spirit

I just saw a guy who always begs for money near London bridge in a suit, tie and shoes at Liverpool street. — MrFinale’DanzeySwift (@danz_the_boxer) March 19, 2013

9. London is intent on providing affordable housing for all

Just seen a 3 bedroom flat in London values at £1.1 million on Homes under the hammer #insane

— Brad Allanson (@_BradAllanson) March 25, 2013

10. London’s balmy spring weather allows for an outdoorsy culture

Just seen a bloke eating chips on a step outside the chippy London Road,wrapped in a duvet. I know it’s cold, but seriously?

— Vic Dadson (@thisisvic) March 25, 2013

11. London holds manners and social etiquette in high regard

Just saw the trendiest old man on Carnaby street. He proceeded to snot shot into a bin. Keeping it classy London.

— Hannah Moulder (@Hannahmoulder) March 25, 2013

12. London’s sights and sounds will keep the whole family happy

Kid on bus howling because Piccadilly Circus isn’t a real circus. I hope the rest of his life isn’t a similar disappointment.

— Philippa_Perry (@Philippa_Perry) February 15, 2013

13. London is so good, a lot of people find it very difficult to leave

Just seen a fella sink three cans of Stella on my 0735 train from London to Southampton. — Sean House (@shouseCI) March 25, 2013

So you see it may be snowing in March, but it could be worse.

You could live in a place where the sun always shines, but nothing interesting ever happens.

And if all else fails, we can always laugh at Dalston.

If anything has made you like London lately, or flown into your face on the street, give it a cuddle and let me know.

The post 13 Reasons Why London is the Best City in the World (According to Twitter) appeared first on She Loves London.

Why is when Ellen alerted me to this beautiful member of staff in Bookmongers – a second hand bookshop on Coldharbour Lane in Brixton – it was pretty much like all my blackberry mojitos arriving at once.

Best of all, he’s what I like to call a Proper Dog. (aka, big).

The shop is owned by Patrick Kelly, who opened it 20 years ago when he moved over from the USA – here’s a little video about him and Bookmongers. Their story, the character of the place and the general brilliance of second hand books pretty much sums up everything I love about London’s independent shops.

On which note, you’ll find Bookmongers at 439 Coldharbour Lane, Brixton, SW9 8LN.

Thank you to Ellen Munro for the picture – she also runs one of my favourite blogs, Dogs on Trains.

Speaking of reading, this year I’m one of 20,000 World Book Night volunteers, which basically means that on 23rd April I’ll be giving out free copies of Damage to people who wouldn’t normally read, like some sort of London-based book Jesus.

So if you know anyone who could do with a push towards literature, let me know. I will hunt them down. 

There are more dogs in shops here – and please feel free to send me any you find.

Have you met this dog? Are you World Book Night-ing too? Let’s be friends. Friiiieennnnnd.

The post Dogs in Shops: The Canine Bookmonger on Coldharbour Lane appeared first on She Loves London.

“Hey!” they say, bounding up to you all expectant ‘n’ that, “You know about London. Six people, Saturday night. We want jazz with a casual hip hop interlude, a sit down dinner and a fine selection of craft beer on tap, preferably north of the river. Where can we go?”

It is at this point you invoke the Knowledgeable Face – an expression that involves pursing your lips together, looking at the sky, crinkling your brow and counting to three – before running through the options.

“Hmm. Dunno. Not a clue. I’d ask on Twitter. Or, actually – you tried TimeOut?”

“Oh, I just thought…” they begin, disappointment etched across their face like rampant teenage acne, “I just thought you might know. Because of your blog and stuff.”

Then they walk away, muttering about there should be an Ofcom for blogs or something and you call after them, “Hey! Come back! I know things! Ask me the five different types of people you can expect to meet on the tube! Ask me where the cool kids sit on the bus! Oi! 139 FANS CAN’T BE WRONG, SUNSHINE.”

It’s like look, here’s the deal.

I might not know where you can find a decent meal west of Kingsland Road, and I think I’ve been to Western Australia more times than I’ve been south of the Thames – but that’s because my social plans are an exact science.

It’s taken years to hone this stuff, to get it down, to master the art of what I like to do in London – and when I find it, I stick to it.

I’ve come along way since those heady days of wandering aimlessly around Leicester Square looking for any bar that’ll have me, and I’m quite proud of the fact that now, my social life on any given day can be pinpointed with GPS accuracy.

Sunday? New Rose. Tuesday? Carluccios and Colebrooke. Saturday? Ruby’s, then the Lion. Friday? Anywhere, god dammit, it’s Friday! Then usually Barrio. Brunch? Dalston Emporium or Bardens. Can’t go home, won’t go home? The Nest. Weekday, starving, need food? MeatLiquor. Hungry after work? Wahaca, Covent Garden. Belly dancing? Gallipoli. Fancy a walk? Hampstead Heath. Dead people? British Museum.

Ask me where to go, where’s good, what’s new, what’s happening and I will reel off one of the above.

Ask me which carriage to stand in to get on the Metropolitan line train at Baker Street and off right in front of the stairs at Pinner? Depends on the platform, but your best bet is the second pillar down near the Snack Stop.

And sometimes, when you’re a Londoner, that’s the only sort of knowledge you need.

The post Questions People Ask When you Blog About London appeared first on She Loves London.